Blue bird...
The husband and I have been suffering post holiday blues, and both of our Mondays were a bit of a letdown after our weekend caravanning extravaganza. The husband deals with his holiday blues in a couple of ways. Sulking is his favourite, rapidly followed by tantrums of Trumpesque proportion (without the Tango-Tan and small hands). He went off to work yesterday dragging his feet and muttering under his breath, and when he came back home last night was only marginally better. I did manage to cheer him up eventually by suggesting that we start investigating our destination for a week in September - his little face lit up and he said, 'Can we?' I'm sure that this is going to cause arguments of mammoth proportion as the discussions deepen. This is because I fancy Suffolk and for some reason known only to the husband, he wants to go anywhere on the South coast where Poldark was filmed. Now the husband is a manly chap who hails from the North (think Coronation Stree