Moving house in a hurry

I’m not going to lie. Estate agents are not my favourite people (with a few exceptions, like anything in life). But they became even LESS favourite recently when the agent we’re using to rent out our flat (BECAUSE WE’RE MOVING IN WITH TUTTI AND THE GURU FOR A YEAR) only told us the date our tenant was moving in… in his head.
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The hardest thing I’ve ever had to do…

There’s no other way to say this: Yesterday, I felt completely wretched. Not a little bit discombobulated, or run-of the mill unhappy or mildly depressed, but truly wretched, in the most conspicuous-wailing, red-eyed-and-sodden-faced kind of way.

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A Jewish Mother’s Lament

Morning loyal followers (er, hi Mum, hi Dad!)

You may have noticed I gave myself a week-long blog-break last week, mostly because I was HYSTERICAL and beside myself after adopting another staffy (now I’m mother to Tiggy and Sherman – so named because he’s built like a tank).

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Sherman and Tiggy, my devil-children.

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Someone else’s embarrassing flashback

It was the early ’90s. I was at a friend’s Batmitzvah and I was sat at a table full of very pleasant girls, one of whom could not get over the outfit another of the guests was wearing.

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Wasabi-gate

There is almost nothing as disappointing as ordering food at a restaurant, expecting it to be delicious and having those expectations smashed into a trillion unpalatable pieces the minute your tastebuds decide to protest your culinary choices.
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