Gnome

I'm getting me name for Christmas, and you needn't ask me what it is, because I don't know yet, do I, and if I did I wouldn't be telling. Might tell you when I know. If told 'er, what if I don't like it, and she said if you don't like it we can change it. What does she think she is, Marks and Sparks?

That dog on her website, that's Daniel, he's got a present wrapped in blue paper and a ribbon, but that's no good to me, I'm not fiddling about with ribbons and paper and stuff. It's bad enough having all them ferns to contend with down 'ere. Oh, and if you think I live in that garden on 'er site, I don't. It's years since 'er lived in that 'ouse. I 'appen to know who's in that photie, too.

'Er's still sorting out her study. Blimey. Them bin men will be crippled come collection day, never seen so much rubbish in me life. Never read so much, neither. Now she's starting on all her craft stuff and that. Spose that's rubbish, too. If she goes on like this she'll chuck the laddie out the window an' all, and it won't 'arf wake them ducks when he hits the river.