Merry Twixmas

Just sneaking over the line is the Twixmas blog entry. Melanie Phillips obviously doesn't approve. Of Nancy or Twixmas but that means we must be doing something right. Looking back over the year, it strikes me that my own performance on this blog has been a bit gack - even multiple prods and nudges from my own mother didn't do the trick - so to blind you to my myriad failings I've included two videos of Nancy with a tail (which doesn't do it justice. It has improved my life inordinately and it only arrived yesterday) and some assorted Dansk Xmas specials, including Nancy with giant hands. If only Tim Burton read this, we could be onto something. Big. Tim call me. 

Much of this blog has been dedicated to what has changed (Nancy being able to talk a little to being able to talk without end) rather than those things that remain unchanged by the course of time. For a while, her wrists felt as if, like a Cervine calf stumbling around in the snow waiting to be shot by a cruel hunter, they were about to emerge into this world. But alas no. They remained caked in cake. She, among her peers, remains alone in having her wrists enshrouded in gentle layer of chub. I, for one, delight in this stasis as she is growing up far too quickly (she has already beaten me three times straight at snakes and ladders  and told me "to focus on that story, Dad" when opening a book) while that eternal chud takes me back to those mute days when she guzzled around in gummy silence, stopping only to slather my shirts in those loose yellow stools that so memorably punctuated her early existence. Long live chuddy wrists, I cleave to you like my youth. 

Nancy had an excellent Chrimbo, with Thank YOu cards made by her fair hand soon to be dispatched to her generous benefactors, and even had a White Christmas thanks to the Danish weather. She also learnt about the dangers of ice as well inventing a brilliant game which consisted of chanting "you are poo" at her grandpa/pa which has been called the "you are poo game" which has a certain Ronseal/Australian approach to naming things. 

Anyway, my wife informs me that no one reads this stuff so fill your boots. Also, the one thing I've learnt about myself this year is that drawing curtains is oddly pleasurable. You should all try it sometime. 

Happy New Year one and all. 2015.  

Mutant Princess

Ice Ice Baby

Tim, please, call me. Nancy Giant hands. Think of the potential.

Raymond Briggs ain't got sheeet on me

Just Strollin'

John Virgo. In a playsuit.