The Snowman's Nose

I uplifted the minky from her house and she seemed well delighted to get away from her mewling little brother, packing a little bag with a pullover and Timmy the Sheep. After a prawn and pasta omelette (I'm learning too) she had a bit of outside fun on the beach, though she wasn’t as relaxed as she used to be as a stupid little toddler - she now sees scary things everywhere. Like waves. Actually later I did call her a toddler - she’d wanted to watch some rubbish on TV and I said no. She wailed of course and I said, hey, this is Grandpa’s house, he doesn’t take orders from a little toddler. Not a toddler, she huffily declared. Haw haw.
Come time to go home, she didn’t want to go. Fresh wailing. 
Talking of wailing, my word, the Scottish Parliament has had days of wrangling over the reform of the gender recognition act. Previously you had to be assessed as mentally unwell (Dysphoria I believe) to get a certificate declaring you’d changed your sex. Whereas now you can get a certificate just for the asking. I’m sure it all makes perfect sense and it's just me that can't keep up.