Christ almighty, it was cold out there. I really didn't think I was going to survive. Still, I'm pleased with myself now...but oh! my feckin' knees, and the dreadfulness of the whole bone-chilling experience... Wah! I don't think it's been this cold for some years, actually, and walking miles through the half-frozen mud, is not a good thing, in my opinion. Poor little Freya, the frailest, skinniest whippet, really should have had a coat on.
Got the zine from dansette , for which much thanks. It looks cool! I had to laugh, though. So many of everyone else's memories of maternal sabotage are so horribly familiar... I remember hearing my mum talking about me, heaving her trademark anguished sigh, and adding 'brightly' "Well, at least we won't have to deal with the problem of BOYS hanging about the place at all hours for a few years" (when my better-looking sister would hit puberty-)