Just wonder how, how did things ever get this far

Well. Been a while.

Firstly - my husband, John Watson, is amazing. He ran an entire marathon. And he really did run it - he said apart from the shuffle to get to the start line, when there are so many people you can barely move - he ran every step. Well, okay, he stopped for mere seconds to say hello to us and get a hug - but that was our fault. He wouldn't have stopped otherwise.

We managed to see him at a few places around the route, darting about on the tube to get ahead of him. He got slightly more pink and sweaty as he went, but never stopped having a slightly grim smile of determination on his face.

He's run 20 miles in training, and was fine. So now I know there's muscles in your legs which are only used in the final 6 miles of a marathon and to stand up from sitting down. Because the day after the marathon John would contort himself into a variety of awkward yoga poses going from sat position to vertical....a sort of crouch. Then bent at the waist, then slowly upward. I got things thrown at me for laughing - and this was during the day I'd taken off work to tend to his every need! Ungrateful creature.

Night is falling and you just can't see, is this illusion or reality?

So, Happy Christmas! Merry festivities. Have a lovely holiday season. All that.

Here's the traditional baubles post. Just in case you thought you'd avoided it. And other musings.

I strolled all alone through a fallout zone and come out with my soul untouched

So. The flat is quiet again.

 Mycroft has begun his new journey - the next chapter in his life. His college is lovely - small, old, all the things you'd expect from a college founded in 1897 really - although they kicked off in 1281, they just had a rough time for a while and only got back in in 1897.

Well, I'm not sure I'd have expected the monks, but Mycroft prepared us.

He got himself settled in, and then we went and found coffee. Which is obviously the next most important thing. Then had a little walk around the area, before going back and meeting yet more of his new...college mates?

Very odd, to be dropping him off at a new place, after seeing him off to school so many times. It is really nice though.

His mum is going to have dinner with them all at the end of the week. We've been invited to go back for dinner sometime, too, which is nice.

Sherlock scowled a lot. Even though he was getting a day off school for free.

Sort of for my birthday the guys got me a camera. I do like taking photos, and I usually just use my phone. But they asked Jo for advice and got me a great DSLR. Except it's for all of us to use, obviously.

Anyway, Sherlock took it up the allotment when we went up a few weeks ago and very politely asked some other allotmenteers if he could search their patches for things to snap. Then he was very quiet and patient and got some brilliant shots, which he wanted to share with you.

I've come home. I'm so cold!

Halfway through our last week of having Mycroft 'home' from School. Next time, he's left school and is about to go to work for the summer! After that, Uni...

We are entering an entirely foreign world to me, and mainly foreign to John (And stupid, if you ask Sherlock). Because Oxford University- where, I'm not sure if we've ever mentioned it or not, he is going (barring him sticking pencils up his nose, underpants on his head and sitting under his exam desk and not even writing his name) - demand rather more in the way of tradition than most, so Mycroft has to have all the right clothes and gowns and ties and whatnot ready and visit again to see his digs once he does get in to the college he wants to, and it's all completely baffling but he seems thoroughly happy about it all, and what more could we ever want than that?

He also has to take various sworn oaths and all sorts, and we've even been told we might get to visit! For formal dinners, no less.

I hope everyone understand how hard it is to behave when confronted with John in a posh suit. It'll be my only defence when questioned!


We also talked about some summer holidays - even though the big lad is working for the cyber spies for most of his 'holiday'. And Mycroft is very sure that he wants to go back to the Moors...where all of this started, for me and the boys.... and sort of where most of it started for John, although not the bloggy bit.

So that's where we're going. Hopefully this time without assassins, hell hounds (normal ones, or rehabilitated hell ones, both fine), no being rescued by helicopters (Unless required for entirely different reasons). We are not only going to camp, but we are going to Wild Camp. We will take bivis and bashas, we will rely on John's military expertise (and my expertise at finding places to sleep when in no fit state to find home), take a tiny amount of gear and live off the land (and pubs. And small cosy tea houses). It will be a proper, genuine, adventure. We will bike around, find cosy spots and bed down under the stars. I'm kind of excited already. (Provided the above rules are obeyed.)


Currently, the allotment is growing like a jungle - mainly weeds - Sherlock's pond is full to bursting with newts, the coffee machine at the office has broken, (reminds me, must find way of making good coffee in the wild...), my work laptop keeps freezing (must get Mycroft to look at it) and Anthea hasn't yet killed me (at time of writing this). Must also warn Dartmoor plod of potential for rustling figures to go through the roof this summer. And warn Dartmoor prison of chance of small boy trying to break IN....

I've always been a coward, And I don't know what's good for me

There was an article on the Beeb this week. It made me think.

There's this woman I know, Daisy. She's about sixty now. She likes her fashion, always dresses nicely, does her hair with clips. She's from the North, originally, around Liverpool, but she's lived in London since she was in her mid-twenties. When she was five or six she broke her leg, but got it all sorted. She's got kids, but I've never met them.

And there's Roger. He was in the Navy for years, before he came to London. He's nearly 80. He got tattoos, when he travelled the globe with the Navy. He was born in India, spent some of his childhood there, before moving to the UK. Then he was in the WestCountry - Bristol area - until he joined the Navy. Maybe that's why he joined, seeing the people working in the docks there. I don't know anything about his family.

Neither of them have ever met me. I don't know what either of them looked like. They're two of 'my' unidentified corpses.

Daisy had a hairclip with a daisy on it in her hair when we found her. Roger has a jolly roger tattoo. I don't know their real names, and I don't know where their families are. I don't know if someone is missing them, wondering about them.

I do know we'll never stop looking for their killers.


On a happier note, I've done my 2 day refresher, which was horrible as ever, but still, all done now, signed off for another year. It's so stressful doing it all when it's not real but in a way I think it would be easier when something was actually going on, because there are more people and more things going on.


And on a much much happier note, Mycroft has indeed been successful in his university application, but I've been forbidden on saying anything more. And he's also gone for this perfect summer job, which I really hope he'll get - his housemaster has written him a glowing recommendation.

And Sherlock has some VERY exciting news too - his school are taking part in a live talk to Major Tim on the space station! They have to think of some questions to ask him about Space, and then they get to talk to him on the radio.


I shall miss the team I've been working with on Child Protection - they're fantastic. You have to have the right sort of personality to work in that kind of environment. We had a lot of laughs, whilst doing a lot of very harrowing work. I'm glad I did it, but I'm also very glad to be back with the MITs.

And on a final note...humans think they're so great, don't they, with their thumbs and gadgets and jobs and motorbikes...yet Maf gets fed, watered, cuddled, stroked and still fits in a long sleep... I might cut my thumbs off...

Sweet silver bells, all seem to say, throw cares away.

Well, I wasn't going to write this tonight but then I saw the comments on John's blog...and realised what the next three days holds for me...and decided I'd be in no fit state to try and write one of these any time soon.

So...life is...well, the usual. The job remains difficult. The processes remain slow and frustrating. But there we go. No one said it was gonna be easy.

But we have Mycroft back with us, which is wonderful, and the flat is packed to the rafters with creatures great and small. I feel like I should get myself a critter - Sherlock has the goos, John has Maf (Or, actually, Maf has John), Mycroft has the hounds, Anthea has all of us.... I feel left out!

So, have a Christmas tradition - the choosing of the baubles!

I'll leave you to guess which one belongs to each of us. (This is a lie - they all clearly belong to Queen Maftet)

A million shards of glass, That haunt me from my past

Well...so much to talk about.

Firstly, here's the place John took me away to:

It was lovely, so peaceful, lovely walks together, ending in cosy pubs. Wonderful views.


And here's part of Sherlock's birthday weekend - the climbing place we went to. It was great, they were so helpful. I think Mycroft is contemplating joining a club at University, so might go a few more times to get a feel for it.

And finally, the game!

It was great - lovely atmosphere. The crowds at Rugby are notoriously good natured. Even though about 90% of the crowd were All Black supporters, the biggest cheer of the night went up when Namibia scored a try.

The other day, when Japan beat the Boks, down in Brighton, the Bok supporters formed a guard of honour when the train arrived back to London, to allow the Blossom supporters to go through the barriers first - that shows how nice Rugby crowds are, compared to football crowds, where someone would probably have been stabbed and a huge fight would've broken out.


Anyway, all that just goes to show what an amazingly fortunate man I am, to have such wonderful people around me to share so much fun and love with every day. Which is something I'm not going to see so much of in the coming weeks...once I've handed over to Sal and Dimmo I'll be off to CP, with all the misery that involves. However, much like any serious crimes, the victory of getting a conviction and getting someone off the streets and where they can't harm anyone will be very very welcome. The team there are amazing. Dedicated officers who work their arses off doing a very very difficult job, day in day out, because they care so much.

Now, Sherlock wants bacon and avocado for lunch, and the degus need their weekly health check up and bath and to stop trying to burrow up my sleeve.

(And what does everyone think of the new Bond theme....I'm not a fan, I've got to say.)

Hvala, Croatia!

So...we have returned.

London is far too far from a warm sea.

It was beautiful. I mean, I don't really have words for how beautiful. Stunning. Like nowhere I've ever been.

So, because worlds fail me, have some pics.

Alone on a platform, the wind and the rain On a sad and lonely face

Ahhhh, the heatwave is currently not waving. But the Tube is on strike as of now, so everyone is still hot and annoyed anyway.

Yesterday was quite moving, really. Ten years since 4 bombs were set off on the London transport systems. Three on the underground, one on a bus.

At the time the first bombs went off the stations/place the bus blew up stopped and had a minute's silence. The nation held a minute's silence at 11.30.

It does feel like yesterday, really. Or last week, maybe. We heard, at first, there had been a massive electrical fault and the underground was suspended. Then we began to hear the rumours, around the yard, that it had been a bomb - and not just one, but a few, at least. As it became clear that there had definitely been fatalities, from those first responders, we geared up to go, because it doesn't matter if you've been stabbed or killed in a bomb attack - murder is murder. And I remember being on the way out, and my phone ringing. And I almost ignored it, just to get going, but something made me stop, and run back to answer it. And it was telling us to wait, not because they were worried there were more bombs - they were, everyone was, there was no need to say it. But because they were worried they had been dirty bombs.

So then we sat, and waited, and watched the news and tried to get on with out work until we finally were sent in.

Right now we're trying to catch a man who is wanted because he stabbed another man in the back because he thought that man was a police officer (he was a barman)...so we really want to meet him.


Anyway, onto far happier things - here's a picture of Mycroft's bike!!

But every word, Seems so absurd my love

So, spring has definitely sprung in these parts.

Obviously I'd rather not be fishing body parts out of the water - but you know, that's the job I signed up for.

Sometimes crime scenes have their up sides though - they tend to be out-of-the-way corners of the world. Even in the heart of the city there are a few little places that nature still rules.

So these were my recent companions on a crime scene:

Not too close together, I hasten to add, in case you thought the cub was going to have a hearty meal! And the goslings parents were close by, keeping a watch on us as the babies had a sunbathe. 

I showed John, and the first thing he said was 'I bet Maf would have liked to chase those ducklings' (I corrected him to goslings, don't worry). What sort of a monster has my husband become??

Sherlock's eye is looking a lot better. I'm sure in his head he now truly believes the stories he's been telling everyone about how he got it...

And Mycroft and I have tickets to Lords! Obviously we did offer that everyone should come, but Sherlock looked like he was in physical pain at the prospect of sitting still (we've got seats behind the bowler's arm if it's a lefty) and John pulled a face that suggested he'd rather watch paint dry. So Mycroft and I are going - to the test, Eng vs. NZ., third day. Fantastic! I've never been to Lords before, which is ridiculous - it's literally just up the road. We can take some food and a few tins, or a bottle of wine, and enjoy ourselves. Weather permitting, of course. Harrow actually play there -against Eton - every year.

I can imagine Mycroft being a member in years to come, running the country while watching a few overs from the Member's Room ;) (I'm sure he'll tell me not to be so silly.)

We've also been given these - guess who loves them the most? When did such mundane things as coasters start being interesting...I don't think I'd ever seen a coaster 'til I joined the force!

I can't do what ten people tell me to do, So I guess I'll remain the same.

Sherlock has texted me to inform me he really NEEDS a pet owl, and even if we won't let him have one, he'll get one when he's older.

So...there we go. I wasn't even sure how to respond. Except obviously he actually texts me using John's phone, so when my message 'Right. Do what you like once you move out.' appeared on the screen I think John thought he'd missed half an argument or something! I got a very questioning text back...



...just realised I started writing this many hours ago, and never continued. Stuff came up.

One of my officers fell down the stairs while searching a house this morning...Bruised ego luckily seems to be the worst of his injuries.

I feel like I've been in meetings forever recently. Not why I became a police officer!!

Mycroft's back with us this weekend. He is currently being regaled with tales of guinea pigs. Lucky that was last weekend - I'm not sure we could have coped with the dogs in the mix as well! The pigs would have made a nice mouthful for them...

Not sure what we're going to do with ourselves.

I heard a good quote which makes me think of Mycroft the other day - "The night hides the world, but reveals the universe."

And have you heard they're going to move Dippy in the National History Museum?? Unbelievable! Going to replace him with a blue whale. Which I'm sure will be spectacular, but... Dippy... (Mycroft has shaken his head and said he can't believe people have given it a nickname.)


They re-created Winston Churchill's Funeral today, on the river. Would've been interesting to see. I think the river police led the boats out - they get all the best jobs! Maybe I should apply for a transfer.

I'm not the man they think I am at home.

Well, we lose Mycroft today, off back to school after a lovely long time at home. So tonight the place will be empty of dogs, large teenagers, stuff, things and the fridge will remain full for slightly longer... although to be fair, he's been bringing us lots of treats home from work, when he was there.

Here's the first lot of florentines Sherlock and I made. We have somewhat refined our recipe since, and added in some pre-toasting of nuts. But still, they tasted good, even without any of the right ingredients.

I think we're going to make some more in a bit, so Mycroft can take them back to school with him.

One by one we're going to stand up with pride

Happy Thursday, everyone.

I can't say there are many officers today who are crying a tear for Andrew Mitchell. Hopefully the whole sorry drama can be put to bed now.

Very sad to hear about Phillip Hughes. What a tragic way for a young man's life to be cut short - playing the sport he loved. And the poor bowler, my heart goes out to him.


Been dealing with a few cases recently - one of them is a very disturbed young man, who clearly completely believes what he's telling us, but we think it's happening in his head. We're trying to get him some help, but it's very difficult! Also taking up a lot of time, because we have to act and investigate things.

Then there's the regular criminals - the regular running around, trying to protect witnesses and things.

I nearly lost it on the phone to the CPS the other day. Words were had. Sal says she knows when I'm ranting because I pick up the whole phone and walk around the office, and have to untangle everything afterwards. Anyway, eventually, I got my way. But that took up a huge amount of my time I could have done with spending on other things.

Got tomorrow off, to spend with John.

Mycroft has invited us all to his school carol concert, which I'm sure will be amazing - a proper choir and everything. Churches generally aren't my thing, but I feel certain this will get us all in the Christmas spirit. And it's nice to get the chance to sing a few good carols. And it's only a couple of weeks until he's back home with us for the holidays.


And, because some youngster has covered it, here's a previous cover of a song I like:




Oh, by the way, feel free to start placing bets as to what Maf will attack and destroy out of the many Christmas decorations Sherlock will insist we put up.

To be honest, I'm only betting on what will survive - far shorter list.

John mentioned walking Hadrian's Wall earlier today. It sounds like a great thing to do - I'd love to spend time with John and the boys doing something like that. Sounds like heaven, frankly.

One hundred hairs make a man

mmm. nights. I've avoided them for a while, because of various day time commitments - meetings, court, that sort of stuff. But here we are, nights again, trying to prove connections between people this time, which is...well, fairly boring. When it's not my turn to be watching I'm busy going through reams of data on locations - bank card use, mobile phone calls/signals, all trying to put certain people together at certain times. CCTV, too. It's amazing the trails people leave.

Anyway, half term was lovely. Got to spend time with the boys and John. Mycroft is so different from the quiet little boy we first met. He's a big lanky confident teenager now, with unruly hair and is suddenly fluent in grunting as a means of communication. Sherlock is still stuck between being waaay above hanging onto his brother's coat tails and...doing exactly that ;)

Anyway, tonight Sherlock is staying over at the school, and is very excited. There will be fireworks first, which only adds to that excitement.

I'm not sure if John or I am going. Well, I am sure I'm not going, because I'm at work. I think Anthea might take them up there, and then we'll both go and fetch Sherlock back tomorrow and wish Mycroft well for the coming weeks.


John is going out with Murray tonight. Or Mo'rray, as he is currently known. He is trying to make John join him in Mo'vember. I very much fear he might succeed... because John's only comment so far wasn't exactly negative.."I suppose it's the one time of year people would forgive you for trying to grow a moustache"... so tonight I may find myself married to Mo'hn Mo'tsan.

Imagine this man, with a mo.

And no, I don't know what he's pursing his lips about, or why he's on a slightly dodgy looking giant fur rug, or why he's pulling that rather...er..well....that pose. I can tell you that in the next picture of the 'series', he has his tongue out.

I say no more...

Oh oh the night comes down, And I get afraid of losing my way

Well, we have both recovered from the run.

John did it in 02:15:01, I did it in 02:15:36. He could have gone faster, but he stayed with me until right at the end, when I told him I'd be forced to feel up his arse all the way to the line if he didn't run. Or...I might've thought that, and just panted something like 'Go! Go!' and waved a floppy arm at him.

Anyway, yeah, we did it! And we're quite proud. Sherlock, the girls, the baby, and Mrs H did us proud - I think they probably ran almost as much as we did, charging around the course to see us!

But yeah, it really wasn't too bad, and we might well do something else - or another half marathon. I'll admit a full marathon is still rather daunting...


Here's a video Sherlock said you should all see. And he's right. It's lovely. I think Mycroft sent it to him.

Their faces gaunt, their eyes were blurred, Their shirts all soaked with sweat

Well...horse riding. I guess it's like riding a bike - once you're used to it, it's fine! The first time though...ffffffffffffff...well. I can't even say what it feels like, in polite company ;) (or in front of you lot.)

Anyway, it was lovely. I mean, the countryside, the sun, the horses were all well behaved - we even had a little trot. Which was, frankly, terrifying, and a I'm sure sacks of spuds would have been more graceful than...well, me.

But yeah, lovely. Sherlock loved it, and rewarded his horse afterwards with carrots and apples. And then insisted he'd also feed our horses. And that he should have a horse to get around London.


Our little lodge-thing is lovely, small but perfectly formed. And very peaceful. Well, it was until we arrived. Sherlock stalked a hedgehog last night (didn't actually see it, just heard it in the hedge.) Then discovered that some places you can have pet hedgehogs... that was a good conversation. Anyway, I don't think the degus would like it, even it was legal here.

He and Mycroft are in the hot tub at the moment. Mycroft is stretched out, relaxed, eyes closed. Sherlock is busy making his shorts inflate massively by sitting over bubble jets....

Here is our hot tub/view/deck/bovine neighbours. It's great for stargazing too, we saw all sorts last night, including shooting stars.

Very shortly John and I will be in that hot tub. Although right now it feels like even getting my leg over to get in might be a struggle!


Tomorrow we're going to go to a near by aquarium, I think. Or to the beach or something, we are people of leisure!

Here's a view from today:

Nice, eh? Very peaceful.

Come on everybody Let your spirits be free

Yesterday I got home, had a large moustache drawn upon me, went and got dressed in my leather jacket, jeans, boots, uniform cap and aviators, then came down and snuck up on John and sang this at him:



He only just survived being danced around the kitchen. He looked as if he was about to choke to death as he snorted with laughter and tried to tell me to sod off so he could finish making the tea.

Anyway, today...

Thunder drowns out what the lightning sees

Tomorrow, Mrs N informs me, I will be getting wet. She told me to bring plenty of clothes...although hopefully none of the kids will take a dip! I imagine some of them will need pulling onto dry land, or hoiking out of their canoes etc. though. Anyway, I have plenty of shorts and t-shirts in a bag. And spare boxers, obviously!

I just wish John could come too.

Sherlock is very excited. Like, still awake, despite us needing to be at school early tomorrow! He is at least in his room now, supposedly having quiet time...

Mycroft and I cooked, and Sherlock and John ate, and everyone was happy, so that's good!

Jo and Lisa sent us a picture of little Tadhg, and he's very lovely and small and wrinkly.

Sherlock is taking this year's transition to the big class very well. I think he's quite looking forward to being one of the oldest in the school. Mycroft has taken to work in an exemplary fashion. He's already working shifts without the owner, and impressing everyone in the process. He joins us in sampling a bottle of wine now and again too, so that's another area where his knowledge is growing.

We went to the allotment today, did some more weeding (it never ends) and pondered why our french beans are all a bit...oddly shapen (Mary says it's because we water 'irregularly'). Sherlock is drawing us up a watering rota, as he does not appreciate misshapen beans. She also says our blueberry needs more acidic soil. Ericaceous compost is our best bet...so we'll have to get some, see if it does the trick.

after tomorrow, Sherlock is home for 6 long weeks...for the duration, I think John will also need watering regularly.

For absolutely no reason, except that it has given me a post title, have a picture of a tiny tortoise wearing a raspberry on its shell.

There will be another dream for me, someone will bring it

Well, Brazil are having another nightmare. Sadly I don't get anything for the Dutch coming third ;) I don't think it's very healthy for senior officers to win things like sweepstakes though - better if a lower rank does, really.

Sherlock loved his time on the boat, and, although he won't say it, I think he liked having John there. Sherlock knows he's not like other kids, and he needs people around who'll be sympathetic when he pushes boundaries (if they're new, untested boundaries - he knows exactly which ones he isn't to test any more!) So things like bedtime in an untested area, with all his schoolfriends - sometimes he needs a gentle hand to guide him.

Anyway, he loved it, took great joy in being the provider of horrible bedtime tales, had a great day the next day, when they did a bit of a walking tour of a few London sights before going to the Science museum for lunch, a look around, and finally home. Maf leapt on John and wiped herself all over him to stop him smelling like 30 schoolkids and re-mark him as her chief minion.

As you all know, being the worst person at 'taking it easy' in the world, I messed around in his room, as he's been saying he wants a den in there for ages. And I think it's right he has a nice private space he can go to, as he grows up. It's something I never had, and would have loved. He also knows nowhere is completely 'private' from John and I - there are no secrets when you're 8, sadly. It's a fine line, but one I think we get right more than wrong.

Is it worth the aggravation, To find yourself a job when there's nothing worth working for?

It's Mycroft's first day at work tomorrow. They're going to see how he gets on, and if he's happy to, he's going to work the weekend too, to help with the rush.

If he doesn't feel ready, he'll just work weekdays for now, starting before the lunch rush until they close. But I've a feeling he'll do fine.

He's got a little apron to wear, and a black waistcoat, white shirt, black trousers - looks very smart! He actually seems sad not to be wearing a tie though, odd boy :)

Obviously we're all thinking about the freebies...I mean, wishing him well.

Sherlock already wants to visit. Which has led to low-level bickering of the sort only siblings can manage to keep going for so long.


In the allotment, our beans are growing up, our tomatoes are shooting away now, and even our spring onions, which everyone doubted, seem to be doing okay.

Lettuce is just an ongoing battle.


Work is really eating at me at the moment. I can't tell you all anything about the op, but...it's not much fun. And although I'm happy that I'm the right person to run the op, and when we catch the guy, it will be very much for the good, I'm not enjoying it.


When I was younger, people used to call me a 'pretty boy'. And I can't pretend I didn't use that, sometimes, to my advantage. But I definitely grew to hate it, too. What it was used as shorthand for. And when I joined the force, it changed, but people still thought I was younger, less experienced, than I was. People didn't take me seriously, I guess it boiled down to. Everyone always says coppers are getting younger, so I suppose having a young face didn't help. Didn't help with my confidence either, at first, especially with my background. Like I said to DW the other day, I felt like a fraud, for many reasons - my background, my sexuality, some of my ... thoughts on the people we locked up, the people we dealt with. Of course, when everyone's on refs talking about the scum down the local estate, the slag who's been sexually assaulted by the drunk boyfriend, you don't get to fight back, to say it could have been any one of us, because that's not how it works.

Of course now, now I'm more comfortable in my own skin, now I have the rank, I can speak up, and I do. And maybe sometimes that's the only way you can win the battles, by doing what you can, when you can, and accepting there are some fights it's not worth picking.

There were definitely times I thought I was in the wrong place. But I suppose whenever I really thought about anything else I could be doing, I just knew this was where I should be. And I knew I would never forgive myself if I gave it up. But it could easily have been the other way - knowing it wasn't right, and setting out on a new path.

Anyway, didn't quite mean to get sidetracked by all that. And now Sherlock is hanging off me wanting fruit with ice cream and John is trying to untie a knot in Maf's favourite fishy toy whilst she valiantly tries to kill it.

And here's a page John showed me earlier, to cheer me up. Can't believe the cheek of the florist though!! They must read this blog ;)