Committing ones self to paper is never as easy as you think...

Hello, hello, hello friends. Apologies for my absence, but I have been very busy lately. Having made the magnanimous decision to commit the great- as yet, untold story of my life to paper, I have been somewhat preoccupied.

After deciding that the time had come to document my life in paper form (regardless of the fact that it's likely I'll be the only reader...), I set out with every intention of doing things properly. So, I started by going to the library to find a book about how to go about writing your life story. I found one imaginatively named 'How to go about writing your life story', and as interesting as the book was, I didn't find it as helpful as I thought I would. I mean, the first instruction of 'decide who you're going to write about and who your reader is' was rather self-explanatory. The answer is me and me, because I'm not sure if there's many people who will be interested in the life of Mildred McManus. But, we shall live in hope.

Fairly early on, I decided to abandon the book and make it up as I went along (how to write that is, not my life). Basically, I've spent a lot of time thinking this week. Though I'm not sure that's what the parents would call it. Mum would say I've been day-dreaming myself into procrastination and Dad... well, Dad would simply say I'm wasting my time, when clearly I'm not.

Anyway, one particular incident happened to me this week, which I have sought to include in my great life history. Obviously, I am not writing chronologically because I don't seem to remember things in the correct order, meaning that I am going to share my recent past with you.

Just this week, I was taking a break from reliving my childhood and I was cleaning the kitchen. As I was doing so, I was startled to hear a scratching sound and loud bang emanating from somewhere close by outdoors. I went to open the back door and lo, there was a badger right in front of me- in broad daylight! Well, my natural reaction was to scream.

So I did.

And then, upon recovering my composure, I drifted into the lounge where Dad was in his element. I kept this secret from Mum (though I don't know why), because Dad was not doing his allocated chores for the day. Instead, he was- horror of all horrors, relaxing on his day off! No, just joking. Although Dad did have his feet on the sofa, which meant he either thought that he was home alone or had simply forgotten that I was there (sadly the most probable).

Anyway, when I walked in, Dad had his eyes glued (metaphorically, not literally) to the television as he was watching a rather lackluster England football performance, but somehow hoping that by verbally abusing the plastic frame of the tele, he could offer his support and encouragement to the players.

I do not believe it worked.

'Dad', I said, my heart still pounding unnaturally fast due to the unforeseen badger escapade. 'Did you just hear me scream?'

'Yes', he replied without taking his eyes off the game.

'Were you going to come and see what terrified me so much?'

'Er... I really should say yes, but the game's on love.'

'But Dad, I could have died or something!'

Distinctly unimpressed with my dramatisation, he slowly raised his eyebrows in a manner that only fathers can perfect as I proceeded to describe to him what had happened. Eventually he said, 'are you sure it's a badger?'

'Yes', I confidently replied. But then followed a series of questions to establish whether it was actually a badger or quite simply, a horrifyingly over-fed rat that had been supplementing it's daily diet with a seriously high dosage of steroids.

I'm pleased to say that Dad concurred: it wasn't the latter.

But anyway, I'm going to have to shoot off as I've just had a childhood memory that I must commit to paper before it becomes lost for all time. It concerns the incident when I was enrolled in potty training classes and my brother Scott persuaded my other brother Graham to put an empty potty (thankfully) onto his head. Unfortunately for Graham, said toddler toilet got stuck and he had to go to hospital to have it removed. Ahh, it was a hoot (but not for Graham though)! I suspect that he has tried to erase this incident from his memory, so I must apologise to him. Graham- if you're reading this, sorry. If you're not reading this, then there's nothing to worry about!

Here, I bid you farewell and leave you with the following advice:

• never interrupt a father when they are watching a sporting event on television, regardless of the gravity of the situation.
• never put a potty on your head.
• never approach any animal that you suspect may be taking illegal or harmful drugs, or simply steroids.

Bye!