I have the keys to, what was, a lovely three bedroom bungalow. Anyone want to party?
And by party, I mean the jelly and ice-cream variety, rather than the swigging from a barrel or keg, dependent on what continent you learnt your English, type.
The lovely Kat asked me to write her something while she was off enjoying the best of England, so we have not got much time. I expect the full tour to take about 45 minutes.
My beautiful wife died in the summer of 2005, when our son was just seven months old. And it has been me and him ever since, thus the unimaginative moniker.
This is actually my maiden guest post, and I am lucky enough that Kat has not had enough time reading my stuff to realise an invite might not have been the best idea.
As a temporary resident in this wonderful country, ignore my previous slight, I think it is nice that they are having visitors and are off gallivanting to discover what it has to offer.
Guests are absolutely fantastic, and I think that their stock gets even greater when there are children in your home.
I blogged recently about how much I, or we, enjoy going out to stay in. The same is true in reverse, I enjoy entertaining, and sometimes, even by just having different personnel in your abode, things that had lost their appeal, quickly regain it.
Games, and toys, consigned to history become more interesting when played with new, or different people.
Cooking for a crowd can also be fun. And less of a chore, plus there are more people to load the dishwasher – that reminds me, I must check if there is one here.
There is also greater motivation to go out and explore, or just take lunch or dinner out together.
I have become so used to going out with my son, I actually found it quite difficult a few weeks ago to go out in the day-time just with my folks, and without my usual three-foot-companion.
But I had got so used to targeting places that my child would enjoy, my simple thought process was finding it difficult to adapt to a different set of requirements.
Namely, pleasing myself, and I suppose my parents.
We actually popped back to the RAF Museum, as I had thought it would be a great place to visit, when I could actually concentrate on the exhibits, and take my time reading through them, rather having to have at least one eye on my child.
That proved to be true.
In the last couple of years we too have relocated, not as geographically dramatic as Kat and crew, but we have built our own home, both figuratively and actually, in a much more rural part of the country.
It was time to be less ignorant of our surroundings and history.
And with the help of the Internet, and the knowledge of the locals, it was not long before our few days together were full of interesting places to go and visit.
I hope that it is the same for my blog landlady, and that you have not been too disappointed with your substitute blogger, all will return to normal soon.
So you can forget this ever happened.