Princess Pog and the (magical) tiara

The other day I mentioned in this post that Sister 1 had progressed the ‘lets embarrass our sister with weirdly addressed post’ competition, by sending me a parcel addressed to ‘Princess Pog’.  We currently have a lovely decorator man here who has since only referred to me as ‘Princess Pog’, which is a little weird, but I go with it…

I mentioned this to my Sister and….well today I had more post sent to Princess Pog.  It was my princess kit.  The lovely painter man was a little (more) scared when he watched me open the parcel and put on my tiara.

I sent a photo to Sister 1:

(One day I might put some make up on before taking a selfie)

And Sister 1 demanded to know where the necklace was.  Unfortunately I  obviously don’t have a very princess like head as it wouldn’t fit:

But apparently it made her laugh a lot as she and her husband sat in the oncology waiting room, and that can’t be a bad thing, can it?  I promised, as requested, that I would wear it all day, despite the fact that a number of dog walkers going past the house were doing double takes at me…

Now this is the proper, impressive story bit:  You might remember me mentioning last year how my brother in law was diagnosed with a brain tumour.  The story isn’t mine to tell, but I don’t think they will mind me telling you that today they found out his tumour – a grade 3 tumour that would never go into remission –  is…in remission.  Now, that could be due to the fact that they are positive in their outlook in a way that puts most of us to shame, or the fact that they have cut out sugar, or many other things.  Or – and I think we all know where this is going – my tiara could have had something to do with it.

I suggested this to Sister 1.  She said that means I can’t take it off at all now.  I can’t see this getting awkward at all…

And on a serious note, Sister 1 and Tattoo Man:  You’re both amazing.  (And so is Little Pea)

And also: #fuckyoucancer


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