Underground, overground, Mimbling free

It's finally happened. The good husband is leaving me. For a man... Kurt Cobain to be exact.

For those of you who know my beloved well, you will know that his obsession with Kurt knows no bounds. It's second only to his love of food. And that's a BIG love.

After a visit to see our friends Willem, Sara and Mr.Black (small jack russell with a lot of moxie if you were wondering), Mik struck upon an idea. You see, Willem and Sara have a new house and this house has a special room just for Willem. It is a glorious loft den full of music and guitars and thoughts of single malt. I could literally see the cogs of Mik's brain beginning to turn.

Fast forward a week and 'project cellar' is in full swing.   This weekend Mik has been clearing boxes and rummaging around among the spiders to unearth his old Nirvana memorabilia. Took a while. I'd hidden it well.

So, now his very own Daddy sanctuary is complete. The mini fridge will be installed before long and I will never see him again. Alas, I'll still be able to hear him - the electric guitar has moved down there with him. I give it about a month before my brother has pitched up with his drums.

Somewhere, amidst all of this underground activity, there was still time for some serious overground marauding and we managed to squeeze in:

• the park
• the swimming baths
• the park
• a Beatles dance-athon
• finger drums
• some quiet reading (praise be!) 
• and the park... again (Note to self: future blog topic on the highs and lows of Trafford and South Manchester parks).

All of which was kicked off in a typically boisterous start to the day.

The Mimbling knows no bounds.