Linzi's blog

Just finished watching Crufts. Best in show was a georgeous Tibetan Terrier called Araki Fabulous Willy. To me there's not much wrong with that name, but how long before we hear that there were x number of complaints over the use of the word Willy before the watershed? Not so long ago, when I was only 6 years old, willy was a word, that although still a liitle bit naughty, you weren't all that ashamed to say it. In today's sanitised world, however, it is the most henious of crimes to say such a word. Totally ridiculous, is all I can say. Why do we allow such things? I'm not saying that we sould allow more serious words to be freely heard, but surely, Willy, a shortened version of William, is not so disgusting to these PC people. I am quite sure that the dogs owners were not thinking of the alternative meaning of the word when they named him!

Let me point out that I am not scrapping the book I am working on, just merely editing it. The inspiration came when I was reading the current draft (I think it's on about number 17 now) and felt that the start wasn't quite right. I have no decided to add a prologue to the book. It will probably get scrapped in another 17 drafts, but the thought that I am adding one, makes me feel better.
Last night was a good night (apart from the DJ not playing any Guns N Roses) We persuaded Dad to join us in the main room, mum got drunk as usual, and I didn't. (It's not easy to get drunk on 3 Tia Maria's with a whole small bottle of Diet Coke to each one!) Dad got slightly drunk, and we left the persentation at about ten-to-one in the morning, Mum not walking straight, Dad only slightly better, and me still walking in a total straight line. We got home and Mum and Dad went to bed. I stayed up for a bit working on my book and listening to Guns N Roses. Finally went to bed at gone 2 in the morning. Not long after I'd gone to bed, Mum gets up and heads for toilet. Unfortuantely, Mum decides that toilet is downstairs and that we have 3 less steps than normal, and her right foot collides with the step ladders at the bottom of the stairs. Luckily I'm not yet asleep, hear Mum shout out and ask her what she's doing. "Going to the toilet" comes the reply. Luckily, her foot is not broken. Mum is still in pain today, and can't work out why she thought the toilets were downstairs.
On a slightly brighter note, here are some pics from last night:

Our Vice captain and Treasurer

Me with birthday flowers

Mum and Dad
We didn't win anything, but we had a good time!