Tell Me Where To Go
Mrs Z is having a girlie weekend in London with old friends and I'm in sole charge of the Zedettes. I nipped out today and bought a pile of rubbish from one of those everything-is-a-pound shops. (I must remember to go back there for my Christmas shopping.) So I've kept them amused this evening with books, stickers and "rocket balloons" which make a rude noise and bounce off the walls when you let them go. They're now watching a video about cute animals and a vet.
Of course, the house looks like the inside of an exploding toy shop and I suppose I had better scrape that burnt pizza from the inside of the oven before it becomes permanent.
Tomorrow they want me to devise one of my famous treasure hunts with dozens of elaborate cryptic clues hidden in unusual places around the house (under the bath plug, inside the freezer compartment etc) and a miniature bar of chocolate as the prize.
I was going to ask diary readers to suggest destinations for a family fun day, but the comments might not get posted until Monday. Besides, the weather might not lend itself to a seaside outing. Maybe we'll build igloos instead.
