Rolling in after a good cry at a hopeless story. It’s good to be home.
Collected the kids from their Dad’s this evening. They were only in the front room for half an hour before bed time and they still managed to make the sofa look like a traffic jam…
Home is where the toys are. Obviously.
Home is definitely standing in the warm kitchen, watching your boyfriend de-snow the car!
Toys, comfy sofa, fish, two dozy Smalls and a rug of the map of the world. That’s home.
Homecooked Sunday roast. Makes the flat really smell like home!