7648/20587
Never assume. It makes an ass out of you. Doesn’t affect me though. Only you are an ass.
If you’re assuming that assuming makes an ass of you and me, you’re making a big assumption. Just you ass. Just you.
Even if you think you're being clever with word play, assume doesn't make an ass out of you and me, it's makes an ass, a u and a me.
Which is meaningless.
Though it's true you should never assess. It makes an ass out of you an ess.
We went to St Albans for lunch today. It's a city I like very much, with a lot of history of course, parts of the centre that seem like a quaint village and then 50 metres away bits that are packed and bustling. We nearly lived here (and it's one of our possibles if we move) and after lunch we drove up to look at the house that we wanted to buy, but which we didn't sell our London house is time for. As we drove past I told Catie that that was the house and she said that it wasn't, so we looped round to have another look and we were sort of both right. The new owners have completely re-landscaped the garden and it looks entirely different. They've more or less cleared a wild bit that was full of bushes and trees and made it look like Tellytubby land and they've knocked stuff down and extended the lawn area. We'd never have done anything like that. Mainly because we wouldn't have been able to afford it.
Strange to be back somewhere that we last looked at 7 years ago, when Phoebe was still in her pram and Ernie was inside his mum (or maybe still inside my then-bulging ballsack). How different would our lives have been if we had bought that place? Almost completely. Have you seen the film Sliding Doors?
How quickly those seven years have gone - seeing our possible house morph into something very different really brings that home. Non-home brings it home. I'd love to be able to see the family we would have been if we'd got our ducks in a row. I am not convinced it would be better - I think we might have lucked out being where we are - but they would definitely be different. One of us might not even have existed or be a different kid altogether. Would I roll the dice again in the hope of getting a better kid than Ernie? No offence to the almost infinite number of kids that might have otherwise existed, who I would presumably have loved more than life itself, but I'd hate to be in a world where Ernie Herring didn't get to exist. Let's stick with this time-line, even if it's gone a bit skew-whiff for everyone else.
Do we want to move back into a city? I like the village and won't mind if we end up staying here, but as the kids get older it might be nice to have a bit more stuff on the doorstep and not rely entirely on us giving them lifts everywhere. I don't want to go back to London - I know that much. But imagine being able to walk to a Pret again.
