I was by all accounts an adorable toddler. Baby me was seriously scabby, looked like a little baby lizard, but that cleared up :D

....I would have been so traumatised. My cowardice wants to get rid of the kettle; my Irish can’t be without tea.

*nods* Crying can also work really well in a brawl situation. Not sniffling, full on panic wailing with snot and bubbles. It can be quite off-putting.

Hey, I’m pretty sure it works at any age!

It wasn’t for peeing. :D The teacher told me I was going to hell because I wasn’t baptised! I was five, I think my flappy tantrum was well deserved *sniffs*

I wish I’d known this before I got my new glasses! I could have done so many bad, mad deeds!

I’ll spoil if I want! Stella Gibson’s hair is stunning!

Exactly. It is a bizarre bit of chicanery that doesn’t seem to accomplish anything except - possibly? - getting the idea of Cosby as this weak, blind old man firmly established in the public’s mind?

...so I take it that his lawyers are fans of The Fall?

Right? I mean, it was an effective, non-violent response. Damp, but non-violent!

I have no memory of this, my mother told the story at my grandfather’s wake to our assembled relatives as a ‘remember the time Tammster...’ story. Anyhow, apparently as a small child - toddler small - she used to take me a playgroup. There was an older child, although still smallish, who would regularly just walk up…

I dunno. It’s the wink at the end. I did the ‘baby tasting lemon for the first time’ face. The rest of it was kinda cool, but I once I knew the wink was coming it was just tainted by it.

Oh, I don’t know, you hear some bad stories around here (mostly from my late granny, who felt ‘stranger danger’ wasn’t enough and went for worryingly graphic real life stories). More things happen in big cities, but small towns seem to put the effort in to be truly disturbing.

I live on the outskirts of town (town to the front, country to the rear - like a housing mullet), and I’ve always been a wee bit scared of someone coming through the field and into the garden - the first I know of it as the press their sweaty face against the glass.

This! I couldn’t put my finger on why that picture makes me uncomfortable, but it’s that. He looks like someone who’d punch you for saying the wrong thing in that picture. Just rage under a surface glitter of clenched humour.

That gives me the most immediate punch in my stomach, but the thought of some weird man sneaking around and me thinking it’s a ghost...my skin crawls. I suppose at least Jim is dead.

Don’t know which is creepier - Jim or Don’t worry I’m Leaving. (Venga is awesome, but not like the creepy little girl ever snuck into anyone’s house.)

In an only vaguely related aside, when my cousin got married she got a bespoke tuxedo made for her poodle. He was unimpressed by the endeavour and ate his cumberbund.

That’s it exactly - it feels like she’s rewriting Brittany to match her image. Maybe she feels the need, having supported her daughter in ending her life on her terms, to reaffirm her own religious principles?

I read it too, and I struggle to have sympathy for the mother. Her POV hits so many of my triggers (very similar situation with family members) that I felt breathless with the same anger I get over the situation in my family. It felt so...dismissive of the daughter’s viewpoint. Brittany was negative, she was angry,…