...parting is such sweet sorrow... - a #100wcgu post

Moving to Stockholm made me re-evaluate my life.  It's so stylish, so hip, so trendy.  Unlike the old me.  I changed my clothes.  I bought a new car.  I started listening to new music.  No more Engelbert Humperdinck: just dubstep, now.  I bought a Macbook Air and a new iPhone.  Now I am achingly, painfully with it.

But there's one thing wrong.  It's my hair.  I've sorted the designer stubble.  That was easy.  But my floppy fringe: it causes the locals almost physical pain with its lack of cool.  Yes, it's that bad: my parting is such Swede sorrow.

(I'm so, so sorry - I couldn't help myself...)

This is a 100 word challenge for grown-ups: for more details, and other entries, see #100wcgu.

The urn - a 100wcgu post

Smug: that's the word for her. She's smug. Ooh, she winds me up. “Curvy is good,” she says, “not like you. You're short and squat. And common. I can't think why they even let you in.”

But I'm going to get her today. Some men like me the way I am, and I'm just waiting for one who wants to cosy up close and take some notice of me. Then I'm going to entice him round, just so. And he'll be looking at me, only me, ignoring her, unaware that she even exists, and … oh dear! How very sad.

This is a 100 word challenge for grown-ups: for more details, and other entries, see #100wcgu.

...looking at all that chocolate... #100wcgu post

... I knew there was only one option. You have a duty as a parent to do the right thing. It's not always easy, but if I can't put my children first, then what kind of a dad am I? Luckily, their mum agrees with me, and we take the difficult decisions together. Tomorrow would be Easter Day, and there were mountains of it, all for the kids. I looked at it, and made a decision. I reached for the first chocolate egg: lots of munching to do if we were to eat all of their chocolate before morning.


This is a 100 word challenge for grown-ups: for more details, and other entries, see #100wcgu.

... the unseasonal weather meant ...

... that the cats spent longer on the decking than usual, arriving soon after their respective breakfasts, ready to make the most of the baked-light wood, furrily repitilian in their worship of this unexpected spring. They lay at all angles: barlines across the grain, lazy numerals, or following the ruled lines in a feline cursive that could flex and morph to tell the story of the day - bluebottles tracked, birds half-regarded, human feet considered for half-hearted nuzzling - until, as suppers neared, they would stretch and erase themselves, leaving a surface yearning for renewed meaning on a new day.

This is a #100wcgu entry.

... despite the pounding in my head ...

... the little ones just would not shut up. I mean, we've talked about this year after year after year. Just one day of peace, please, I beg of them. And do they oblige? No. Never. "It's Christmas morning," they whinge. "We want our presents." Well, they would, wouldn't they? I'm sick of it, really I am. Don't they know how busy I've been? They've seen me! I'm always working. Don't they know how much I had to eat and drink last night? Anyway: once, just once, I want to sleep in. The chances? Zero. Stupid elves.


This is a 100wcgu (100 word challenge for grown-ups).