Handgun

For a long time, Dom's been a fan of hiding his face behind something until we begin to wonder aloud where on earth he could possibly have got to. Then and only then does he reveal himself with a hysterical peepo! This week he's started pulling his arm back up his jumper and then walking around looking distraught at his loss of a hand - Hand gone! Only when we express concern as to how such a calamity may have befallen him does he push his hand back out with a tremendous giggle, huge smile and, if I'm not mistaken, the merest hint of pity in his eyes that we should continue to fall for such an obvious subterfuge.

Update 02/10/05 - now available in moving pictures (0.9mb .avi file)

After the Portrush

Dom's been on holiday with NanNan, GanGan, JobleyJobleyJobley and MummyDaddy, taking in the stunningly gorgeous Antrim coastline. The lovely sunshine only deserted us once, in the form of a torrential downpour though even this turned out to be a blessing in disguise as the first rumble of thunder sent the Americans scuttling off the Giant's Causeway into their coaches, leaving it clear for us hardy, waterproofed Wassocks to get some (IMHO) great photos. (See also, Grandad's pics)

The reason for the trip was Jo's 30th birthday. She wanted a p*ss-up in a brewery, but we couldn't organise that so she had to make do with a great second-best: a p*ss-up in a distillery - the Old Bushmills to be exact.

Having loved the sand but hated the sea in St Ives, Dom has now decided to hate the sand and love the sea. So, instead of paddling himself, Dom took a management role approach and delegated it to me. My job was to wade into the chilly Atlantic in September and jump over waves on his command of "Big.One.Coming!". Good times.

Art, innit?