Saturday, December 1, 2012

I finally got to the €2 shop, mecca of PVC tainted air and strange things that cost €2. They didn't fail me, those Chinese purveyors of toxic but affordable stuff - I am now the exitedly proud owner of one new red rubber hot water bottle, and not one from the chemist that's identical, yet priced at a disturbing €7.95. Pfft! I'm glad I held out.

I had to give mine to Olivia, the seal went on hers and the tops never fit other bottles... We all love our hot water bottles, me and the kids, I mean. It's so cold here, they're a necessity. Axl grew up in a cold damp house and doesn't seem to mind a chilled bed, in fact likes it - but we are creatures of comfort. My hot water bottle stays warm all night, courtesy of a Liberty furry cover, given to me so thoughtfully about a decade ago.  I'd recommend one.

My hot water bottle's my friend, I've missed it. And I feel guilty robbing my poor son's when I go to bed - sometimes he's wrapped round it. What sort of mother wrestles the furry cow hot water bottle from her cherub cheeked son, just so she can go to bed and be cosy and pretend she has someone to sleep with, eh? Ah well, all good now. 

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