It's
Winterval, but don't worry
Melanie Phillips we still know its true meaning and Bertrando D'Mour trundles along regardless like an aloof trufflepig who has found an endless supply of truffles to truffle. So while the Euro totters on the brink, Nancy Eleanor embiggins with every passing day. At the start we felt special that when she saw us that she would unleash that gummy smile but now you can do pretty much anything and she will flash you her smile - wipe her bottom - smile, let her whack herself in the face with a maraca - smile (although the first time was a little jihadi), suck on a giant dragon - smile, listen to Radio 5 Live's coverage of David Cameron's abject leadership in Europe while both her father and mother combusted into leftist fury (my favourite contributions were from Dave in Essex - "Cameron heard Drake's Drum and kept Britain safe" and Lara from Hampshire "I think we should now use the 1939 map of Europe - Sprachen sie Deutsch." Words fail me - why are these people allowed phones? Lord Reith presumably must be bored spinning in his grave.) - smile. Which is rather lovely.
Moreover, we discovered that her tongue is somewhat serpentine in nature as it now stands on constant alert, sprouting from her mouth waiting to slobber on any passing object or person or simply to unfurl down her chin like a mighty red carpet. Frankly it verges on the indecent but it is a remarkable nonetheless. Her tongue has been very busy devouring all many of liquified vegetables which has helped her remain the dainty well proportioned baby we all know and love. Outrageously she'll be six months old on the 27th December meaning we can unleash a torrent of far more interesting food on her unsuspecting palate. Huzzah.
Anyway, this entry could well lack some of the elan of previous posts as it has been composed over the course of a Sunday under the the despotic thumb of Bertie but most who visit this site care for the photos far more than my errant rambling so I've spanked a load of her down below.
And to finish we should remember Christopher Hitchens, who, had he met Bertie, would have not doubt felt a sense of rare kinship with her, so I leave you with a suitably uplifting Christmas quote:
"The Bible may, indeed does, contain a warrant for trafficking in humans, for ethnic cleansing, for slavery, for bride-price, and for indiscriminate massacre, but we are not bound by any of it because it was put together by crude, uncultured human mammals."
Merry Chrimble. x
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