Not those kind of confessions, get your mind out of the gutter.
If you were expecting this to begin with a rugged plumber knocking at the door I can only apologise. The most excitement you’d get from me in that scenario is if he didn’t condemn our boiler for another year. And if I’m naked it’s only because the kids let him in without telling me. Again.
Seriously, were you really expecting some kind of 70’s style smutty soft porn? Really? I mean, I can give you 70’s style smutty soft porn if that’s what you want…
Happy now? No, didn’t think so.
The confessions I’m talking about involve domesticated deceit. They’re a glimpse into the dark arts of house-husbandry. Secrets that could easily see me shunned in the playground or worse still, ostracised from the SSSP (Secret Society of the Stay-at-home Parent).… Read the full post