Right now...

• I am getting used to the keyboard on my new laptop. I am mightily pleased with the machine itself, purely because it is a beautiful shade of cherry red and the casing has an industrial tread-effect texture.
• Little man is munching multigrain hoops and drinking warm milk whilst watching some telly, only this time it is bedtime and not breakfast time. I have steered him towards watching Deadly 60 so I can admire Steve Backshall.
• I am slurping a glass of pinot grigio and looking forward to a takeaway when a friend comes round later.
• I am trying to get used to the extra light flooding into the back of my house but am, on balance, not that happy with the loss of the mature silver birch tree in my neighbours' garden and the way they have hacked the leylandii hedge so that my view will now always be of dead brown bits. 
• I am, somewhere at the back of my mind, trying to decide whether I really want a man cluttering up my life. 
• I am looking forward to getting on with my subversive cross-stitch design and have decided the world is probably divided into those of us who giggle childlishly at seeing the word 'fuck' in embroidery and those who would sneer at such puerile nonsense.

That kind of parent

I've never wanted to be the kind of parent that snaps at my child, always telling him to stop doing things, constantly grinding him down with negativity. The kind who says such things as: 'Stop that, don't be silly, it's not funny, blah, blah, blah.'

Of course, these things sometimes pop out because I'm far from being the ideal parent. Little man has the perfect answer. When I let out a desperate scream of: 'It's not funny!', he replies: 'It's a bit funny, mummy,' with a look of such utter cuteness that all I can do is agree.

Yes poppet, it is a bit funny. Let's have a giggle instead of all that grr-iness.

What else have we been up to? Well, after managing not to watch a second of a certain talent contest on the telly (although having to deal with stories about this show every day at work), the programme thrust itself on my notice by taking a Biffy Clyro song and turning it into garden centre-style croonery. Oh well, at least it might lead some people to see the light and listen to the real thing.

Rhubarb wine has also happened. A delicate, rose-style bouquet with a light effervescence. Given the quantity imbibed, I don't think it can have been any stronger than beer. And I'm counting it as one of my five a day.

Lack of exercise has also been on the menu due to the cold from hell. It's really the third cold I've had in quick succession and which will probably rumble on until spring if previous years are anything to go by. I haven't been swimming or to the gym, but I did make it to a new tai chi class I started going to a few weeks ago.

I've also been working on a little literary sideline, of which I really can't reveal any more without having to wipe all your memories with a Jedi mind trick.

A little light poetry

We've all been there, haven't we? Deciding to write poetry whilst drunk at some point in our angst-ridden teens? No? Oh, just me then. Anyway, here's a little something from the eighteenth-century Japanese Zen poet Ryokan that is reminiscent of such incidents, with less of the angst:

Stone steps, a mound of lustrous green moss;
The wind carries the scent of cedar and pine.
The rain has stopped and it is beginning to clear.
I call to the children as I walk to get some village sake.
After drinking too much, I happily write these verses.

As translated by John Stevens in One Robe, One Bowl: The Zen Poetry of Ryokan (2006, Weatherhill).

Just one of my new books that arrived last week. How ironic that I have to buy books to remind me that I'm trying to live a simple, low-cost, less consumerist kind of life. Oh well, cheers!

The ultimate spag bol

Yeah, I know everyone can make spag bol, but I find this combination of ingredients particularly scrummy so I thought I'd share.

You need:
Decent minced beef (you know, preferably without chewy bits)
Pancetta
Onion
Carrot
Celery
Garlic
Tinned toms
Tom puree
Beef stock cube (I know, highly inauthentic and a big cheat)
Red wine
Oregano, bay leaves, nutmeg

What you do:
Finely chop the onion, celery, carrot and garlic.

Brown the mince in some olive oil, drain off the excess fat and stick it in a bowl to vacate the pan. I tend to use about a kg of beef and make a reasonably big batch for freezing.

Brown the pancetta and stick it in the bowl with the mince.

Bung the veg in the pan and soften over a low heat, stirring every now and again. Then return the meat to the pan.

Now pour in a generous slurp of wine. I'd go for at least half a bottle, preferably two thirds. Also add the toms, a whole tube of tom puree or tinned equivalent, beef stock cube and herbs. I go for a couple of bay leaves, a desert spoon or so of dried oregano and a generous grating of nutmeg.

Now comes the crucial bit. Get it up to the boil, give it all a good stir together, then turn it down to the lowest heat you can and ignore it for a couple of hours. Maybe three. Or so. You can stir it every now and again but it's not that important. I'd recommend going out for a walk in the sunshine.

If it's boiled dry and stuck by the time you get back, you obviously didn't put enough wine in. Perhaps you were saving it to drink? Well don't be stingy, open another bottle!

Serve with the pasta shape of your toddler's choice and a sprinkling of grated Parmesan. We like spaghetti (big comedy factor) or penne (opportunity for sticking your fingers inside the tubes). If you're cunning like me, you'll grate a big block of Parmesan at a time and bung it in a tub in the freezer.

Some people talk of such things as chicken livers. Some may use half pork mince. Feel free to tell me if your ultimate spag bol differs from mine in some delicious way.

Random status updates

Just some of the things I did or could have posted today. JK:

• should have bought a bigger pirate ship.
• wonders if there's an equation to work out how long the chlorine takes to offgas from a 30-something litre tank with a surface area I could work out if I could be bothered.
• needs to wash the nasty shop smell out of her new bedsheet. The one to replace the sheet the small child managed to rip.
• needs more tea.
• is impressed that her calves fit in her boots even when clad in skinny jeans, and is pleased that the make of jeans she bought is generously sized, making her a 14.
• is going to get some fresh air and sunshine at Wigg Island.
• couldn't work out if the tide was coming in or going out.
• doesn't like dogs.
• is liking the blossom and celandine.
• is going to leave the washing hanging in the yard while she goes to work and hope it doesn't rain.
• is getting hooked on Rock Radio as some kind of teenage nostalgia thing.
• needs more tea.
• is at work as usual on a Sunday.
• is playing solitaire.
• is liking the fact it's still light when she leaves work.
• should check her tyre pressure.
• should re-tape her car bumper.
• is daydreaming on the M6, as is her piscean wont.
• is opening a bottle of rioja.
• was going to watch The Departed from her V+ box but has given up to have an early night instead.
• needs chamomile and spearmint tea.
• just remembered she needs to put the sheet on her bed before she gets in it.

Turbo pottering

I put little man in a creche for the first time today, at the leisure centre so I could go for a swim. Now my knee hurts and I've decided exercise is bad for the health. The little guy was unfazed by being left with strangers for three-quarters of an hour; when I returned he was engrossed in some crayoning. The creche staff weren't actually all complete strangers to me. The first person I met on walking through the door was a woman who was my best friend for a while during primary school. This is what happens when you live in one place for the first eighteen years of your life and then return after fourteen years or so away.

There was still plenty of opportunity for little man to demonstrate his dislike of playing with other children when we went to the park. It was lovely and sunny and the park was busy. And he starting crying every time another child went near him on the little climbing frame-bridges-steering wheels-steps-slides thing. He gets very proprietorial of those steering wheels. So we went off to look at the ducks on the pond instead and he managed to cadge a piece of bread off a kind passerby to feed to the varied waterfowl, which included some swans that looked like they wanted to snatch the bread straight out of his little fist.

After visiting the chooks and feeding them the lettuce and cabbage I didn't get round to eating from my veg box, little man insisted on carrying one of the two eggs we collected back to the car himself. I had to keep reminding him to concentrate on carrying it gently and not stopping to point at aeroplanes or starting to run to see the tractor mowing the playing fields. It made it home in one piece. Now if only he actually liked eggs in other guises than eggy bread...

Next up was a stroll into town to buy a bunch of daffodils for my front window. It's part of my campaign to make the area seem friendlier. So many people have blinds or curtains that are permanently closed. Well, I don't care who sees what I own. It's just stuff and I don't have that much of it anyway. But on the way, just after little man had decided he'd walked far enough and it was time for a ride in the Yamo, we were approached by two smart, besuited young men on bicycles, who asked me, in American accents, whether I had time to talk to them about the family. I should have referred them to the STBE husband since I'm not the one who gave up on my family.

Back at home, after the compulsory stop-off at our local playground where little man usually has the steering wheel to himself, it was time to do some painting so mummy can turn the daubings into something artistic looking for grandad's 65th birthday card. Unfortunately, our major mess making was disturbed by grandad himself who came to measure up for a gate to go at the top of the steps in the back yard. The ones little man decided it would be a good idea to try to drive his little car down the other day.

Such a busy day! I haven't described every incident of whinging, whining and tantruming, of which there are a lot from a little guy who still doesn't talk much. I now feel very much like a glass of wine, even though I had planned on abstaining until grandad's party tomorrow and all I have in the house is a couple of those miniature bottles, which I buy for cooking with.

Do not read this

It's pure rant. Stuff I need to send out into cyberspace to stop it going round and round my head.

I moved out of my last home on October 17. I thought little man and I would be at my parents for a couple of weeks. I finally completed on my new home on November 24. I still haven't moved in. I could really do with my own space now. And more than two pairs of shoes. But a friend who has access to a van can't get it this Thursday, as expected, and it looks like it might be next Thursday instead.

I have been decorating, in between trying to spend that thing that some working parents call 'quality time' with little man. I have had heating installed and some new floorings laid. I have had cable connected for my phone, broadband and telly. Unfortunately, the broadband won't set up. A phone I bought online isn't working. Because I have cancelled my old email provider I can't remember where I bought the phone from so can't return it. But I also can't use the free number to phone the cable people to find out why my broadband won't work. And when I tried on my mobile today I was on hold for so long I gave up. I also don't know when my new fridge-freezer will be delivered because notification will be sent to my defunct email address.

My application for insurance cover for the mortgage is currently on hold. My doctor wrote a report to say there was an outstanding issue with a dermatology referral. This is because I showed her a freckle on my foot that had gone all red. She gave me a referral. Of course, the redness went, all was well and I cancelled the appointment rather than waste hospital time. I now have to write a letter to explain this. And I have now changed doctor because I've moved house and am already paying that mortgage.

I got some sealant put in the back tyres of my car last week to stop them losing air. Unfortunately, the garage had to break the locking wheelnuts because I had no idea where the relevant tool might be. So now I have to find some new nuts. The car is also leaking coolant. Although my moving house won't result in any more miles travelled overall, as those looking after little man don't have to go far any more, it does mean my commute has turned into fifty miles each way. That's not as gruelling as it sounds: I don't travel at rush hour and it is motorway virtually all the way. But I do need my car.

STBE husband is avoiding talking to me about Christmas. Instead he texted me to say when he would like to have little man. I texted him back to say I would like to talk about it in person. He texted back in a manner that suggested I was being unreasonable in not simply agreeing. I texted him back a five-part message to point out all the considerations that need to be taken into account: such as little man and I getting settled in our new house, my not having spent as much time with him as I would like because of the decorating, the fact I would also like to see STBEH's family members who are visiting, the fact my shift pattern is unusual over Christmas.... He has still not come up with a time when he is available to talk.

Little man has an infected branchial cyst. It's one of two holes in his neck that won't ever go away. It's only a problem if it keeps getting infected. At the moment it's red, swollen and oozing green gunk and he is on to his second course of antibiotics. He's fine in himself, although he is waking up randomly some nights. I'm not surprised at that as he's a sensitive soul and mummy is rather stressed.

And then there's all the things I haven't been doing which I'd like to be doing: walking, knitting, cooking, planting herbs, talking to the chickens, seeing friends.

I could cope with a few of these things, but all together it's really a bit much. I keep forgetting to take my antidepressants, which probably isn't very helpful. And I think there are only so many bottles of wine and takeaways a person can consume in the name of temporary stress relief. Particularly when 'temporary' is redefining itself.

Five things...

Five things I've bought in the past few days:
1. Four different-coloured toy cars from the Children's Society shop.
2. A second-hand copy of Delia Smith's Frugal Food.
3. A pair of cord trousers and two sun hats for little man in the Ethel Austin clearance.
4. A rum truffle from the Devonshire Bakery (nothing to do with Devonshire!).
5. Booze. Well I will have bought this soon as I'm off to the pub. There have to be some perks to living with the parents, ie babysitting.

Holiday best and worst

Back to the holiday. The best bits:

• The 'giant jumping pillow' at Mabie Farm Park near Dumfries. Obviously the grown-ups had to go on it to make sure the little ones were safe....
• The ridiculous size of the farmhouse we stayed at, with a choice of four 'reception rooms', although we generally just camped in the kitchen-dining room with the Aga.
• Chocolate cake, chocolate fudge cake, chocolate brownies, sticky toffee pudding with ice cream, carrot cake, Victoria sponge.
• Proper darkness at night, bats, peace and quiet apart from the night when we could apparently hear army manoeuvres. Oh, and the night of the gale.
• Having someone to amuse little man while I went for a shower.
• Little man almost getting to the point where he was playing with his little friends instead of just being possessive over toys and mummies.
• The emergence of new words with the help of those little friends. He is now proficient at saying 'tea', makes a pretty good attempt at 'tractor' and says nor-nee nor-nee instead of nee-nor nee-nor for all emergency vehicles. Although mainly he just said his favourite phrase: 'mee-mummy'.

The worst bits:

• Little man waking up and crying lots, every night, which led to lots of co-sleeping, which led to him falling out of bed for the first time despite it being two singles pushed together. No harm done; He snuggled into the piled-up pillows and nearly went back to sleep.
• The 80-year-old toilet that wouldn't flush unless you lifted the lid of the cistern and delved in the water to jiggle the lever.
• The darkness when you don't know where the light switches are and you have to carry your little one downstairs on a hunt for paracetamol, which you obviously can't remember the location of.
• For little man, having to bathe with two other tots. He didn't actually have to, but we thought they might find it fun. He didn't. He tried to climb out.
• Running out of red wine one night.
• Having to come home.

We were staying at North Milton Farmhouse, three miles south of Kirkcudbright, in Dumfries and Galloway.

Today's discoveries

• that the path past the dilapidated cottage and smashed-up car at the edge of Yarrow Valley Country Park actually follows the river for another couple of miles and is lovely.


• that my new walking shoes are very comfy.


• that I am still not built for running however exuberant I feel about skipping along a riverbank without a twenty-something pound toddler on my back.


• that Cono Sur Pinot Noir is currently half-price in Somerfield.


• that it is impossible to drive slowly whilst listening to Hungarian Gypsy music.


• that knitted mushroom stems look quite rude.


• that someone has made a sculpture of Angelina Jolie breastfeeding her twins. No idea if she actually does.


• that sometimes I am quite lucky, like when I leave my camera on the garden bench all afternoon while I am in work and the weather stays dry, which also means that my sheets on the line are nice and dry.


• that Sunday night can be pasta night as well as pizza night.


• that scruffy-looking nerf herder is probably the best insult ever invented.
• that although I am perfectly capable of changing a lightbulb it is very tiresome having to do everything myself.
• that the layout of these blog thingies can be very frustrating at times. Give me Quark XPress any time.

Five-minute snapshot

In the last five minutes I have:

• seen two tractors (one green, one red) on the way home from work and felt sad that little man wasn't there to see them too.
• Finished listening to my new Romanian Gypsy music CD and decided it's not as good as the Hungarian one.
• opened a bottle of Jacob's Creek Grenache Shiraz I quickly grabbed at Asda without having time to think earlier after getting stuck in Lake District/Scotland traffic on the way to work in Preston.
• put the oven on for a pizza, which is usually my Sunday night ritual. I have most unusually worked Saturday though, which leaves me wondering what I'm going to do tomorrow night.
• pulled all the cables out of the back of the DVD player and put them in the video player instead.
• removed a CD case and half a wooden green pepper from the video slot.
• put on Star Wars (IV) as I've been discussing it with a guy on match.com.
• half heartedly put away a couple of baby jigsaws and that damned Tractor book.
• stepped over the half packet of crackers little man dropped on the kitchen floor earlier.
• taken my sandals off and settled on the settee with the laptop but realised the pizza isn't actually in the oven yet.

Hand me another glass of that Cabernet Sauvignon...

Hello, it's Sir Whingealot here and I'd like to tell you my achievements of the day:

• I finally managed to stay awake on the way to Tiny Talk, but only because I had a bit of a lie-in til gone 7.30. Obviously I can't actually tell the time.
• Ran around getting into mischief so much at Tiny Talk that I got an extra biscuit to keep me amused. Result!
• Ate my own body weight in baked beans at lunchtime.
• Managed to stand on the toilet lid and turn on the washbasin taps. Also grabbed the basket on the windowledge but mummy kept going on about it not being for little people.
• Overcame my fear of the sound of parcel tape coming off the roll and got thoroughly in the way of mummy trying to put stuff in boxes.
• Managed to insert a piece of fake wooden vegetable in the video slot.
• Climbed on a dining chair and managed to eat some bits of wax from the candle in the middle of the dining table.
• Climbed on the dining table and managed to eat some soil from the plant.
• Ate some sawdust left by daddy in the back bedroom.
• Successfully pulled off that weird pelican bib mummy keeps trying to put on me.
• Kept mummy nice and alert this afternoon by jamming a fake wooden tomato up her nose after she crawled under her duvet and kept telling me I must need another nap by now.
• Pulled off some more of the plastic trim around the back door.

All in all, a big day for a little person. Mummy kept muttering something about wine as she was putting me to bed. Little does she know that I've secreted her laptop in my Grobag and am blogging from my cot. Might climb out of that soon too. Mummy says she's going to do some Go Ape thing at the weekend, but I'm already a little monkey. Anyway, bit tired now. Night night dear peasants.

The time has come...

...for little man's first camping trip. Tomorrow we head to Silverdale for two nights. Tonight I should be clearing out the boot of the car and then packing it with useful stuff. I'll do it after this glass of wine. Honest.

The boot of my car is quite something to behold. It is absolutely full of junk. There is a big pushchair that I never use because I carry little man in a sling. And under and around that there are various items including: more slings, shoes, umbrella, toys, baby clothes that don't fit little man any more, maps, books, old sandwich wrappers, woolly hats, sun hats, fleece blankets, a witch's broom (daft Halloween one, not real one unfortunately), Makka Pakka, seashells, bags, shoeboxes, the odd newspaper...

Ok, I've just been out to clear it. There is an entire washing machine full of clothes - mine, his, winter, summer - a Bob the Builder DVD, the missing magnetic spindle from the shape sorter, a mouldy plastic food container, a Silver Cross pram umbrella (complete waste of money!) and a form to join Wigan Sure Start. Phew.

Now I've just got to fill it with useful stuff: new tent, check, new airbed, check, new pump, check, new camping table, check. What is the chance of having all of this new stuff and there being nothing missing or damaged?

On a completely separate issue, my emails from potential suitors now stand at three. I have decided that I will not tell you anything about them because that's just not fair. This internet dating thing does rely on a lot of trust that the other people aren't having a laugh at your expense.

What I wanted to write...

...was this: Imagine my surprise when I suggested to little man that an afternoon snooze would be a good idea and he curled up in bed with me and actually fell asleep!

Unfortunately, what he actually did was stand on my head, poke me in the eye, pinch my tummy, rattle the blinds and try to insert The Tiger who Came to Tea up my left nostril.

Let's just hope he sleeps tonight. Last night it was a 12.45am wake-up followed by a 6am start to the day. And of course I didn't go to bed as early as I knew I should. And tonight I don't even have any wine to help me wind down. Yes, I have run out again due to very poor grocery planning.

Ho hum. Still on the subject of sleeping arrangements my new tent arrived: http://www.terra-nova.co.uk/Brand/Wild_Country/Tents/Halo_43_Green_.html. So now I can go and sleep badly and be woken at dawn in the beautiful countryside.

4 present, 2 arriving, only 14 to go...

Why? Why does teething have to be like this? It really doesn't seem to work very well. Do all mammals have it this way or what?

Little man got his two front bottom teeth at around 8 months and his two front top teeth at around 11.5 months. Then nothing until now (15.5 months). So I guess both he and I have had some welcome respite.

I've known he was teething for a couple of weeks now and have been checking the lumpy bits to the side of his existing teeth wondering just how much longer it could take for some more to appear. In the meantime he has been chewing his fingers, whinging a lot, not eating much, not settling at bedtime and waking in the night. I have given the odd dose of paracetamol when he was upset in the night and just hoped it would all get a move on and we could get a few out of the way in one go. I don't fancy a fortnight's hell for every single tooth.

Anyway, I was putting some Bonjela on his gums at 4am today. As you do. I happened to slide my finger further round and whaddya know... two teeth have cut through halfway round. So it would seem we are on to molars before he bothers getting the other incisors. Trust my little man to be different. It's no wonder he has been upset but I didn't realise he was actually cutting these biggies so now I feel bad for not giving him more paracetamol and Bonjela and teething granules. And cuddles.

But it does explain why he wanted to eat the frozen sweetcorn before I put it in to cook with the pasta tonight. And why I'm having some medicinal wine even though all I've got left is a bottle of white, which wouldn't be my first choice.

Warning: whinge coming up

I have a sore throat, mouth ulcers and face ache. My DVD player finally died after being abused by little man, who liked pressing the open/close button. Little man himself only fell asleep at 9.3opm due to teething, heatwave and general midsummer madness. It is hot and I don't expect to sleep very well. I am not enjoying this ruby cabernet, it's too heavy and it's not helping my throat. I just googled glandular fever but I don't think I have it so I don't have an excuse to get lots of sympathy and afternoon naps. There have been kids shrieking at the tops of their voices all evening right outside my house. Because of little man's late night I haven't done any tidying up, even though had I known how late it would be I would have just left him to play and got on with things.

So I'm now going to think up some good stuff that happened today:
1. I got little man back from his daddy.
2. I made little man's botched homemade trousers into cropped trousers, thus hiding some of the cock-up and making him look well cool.
3. I spread the word about babywearing at a post-natal group.
4. Little man and I had our tea/dinner (delete as you like but at 5pm I don't think I can call it dinner) sitting outside on the patio.
5. I got invited to go camping in North Wales.
6. Little man and I got the giggles over the Stroke Henry book.
7. I inspected my salad seedlings and they're coming along nicely; I watered them with little man on my hip about an hour and a half after he should have been asleep.
8. I got three eggs.

Status updates

My status updates on a day without little man.

Janine:

- tried to have a lie-in but woke up at 6.30am with a funny throaty, hay fever, cold-type feeling.

- thinks the first cup of tea in the morning is one of life's simple wonders.

- had a bacon buttie. Because the bacon needed using up, of course.

- painted her toenails.

- discovered a new poet (Mary Oliver) thanks to slugsontherefrigerator.com.

- went to Slingmeet without a baby and tried the secure high back carry with a doll but ended up almost knocking the doll's head off.

- chatted to the Children's Centre lady who came to talk about choosing a nursery and came to the conclusion that nurseries are all part of the consumer capitalist conspiracy.

- saw a temperature reading on the side of a building in Preston that said 24C. And that was in the shade.

- proved to herself what she said a few posts back: the best way to avoid spending money is to avoid going into shops.

- bought herself some new sandals. (Yes I know I'm not consistent with this consumer capitalist hate thing.)

- filled up with petrol as she was on 346 miles since last fill-up and the petrol gauge doesn't work and she has been putting her foot down a bit.

- went to work and knitted some more rows of the first sleeve of the cardigan for little man and felt very hot knitting a chunky cardigan when the office air conditioning seemed close to breakdown due to the heatwave.

- also checked house prices in Runcorn and thinks she might be able to afford a two-bed terrace in need of modernisation if she could persuade anyone to give a mortgage to someone who doesn't have a proper job (and doesn't want one).

- texted STBE husband to see what little man has been up to and was pleased to hear he has been squirting himself with a hosepipe.

- would like to point out that she does actually do some work in between knitting and surfing the net but the nature of the work means you wait around quite a bit (for crap writers to write crap stuff that you then have to rewrite).

- saw a beautiful glowing sun sinking towards the Lancashire coast from the M6.

- got home at 9pm to discover she had left the freezer door slightly ajar at 10 o'clock this morning.

- took a picture of her new sandals before it got too dark and is perplexed at why her camera keeps taking video instead of photos when it's on the photos setting. But it is a several-years-old 4megapixel jobbie that was her STBE husband's before he decided he needed a nice new one.

- put the freezer on boost, warmed up some chilli, threw open the back door and poured herself a glass of wine.

- was disappointed on checking her dating site that noone has sent her a message.

- is listening to the blackbirds saying goodnight.

- should go to bed but doesn't really feel like it when she only got home from work at 9pm.

- really, really wants to go camping.

- is going to watch Robin Hood on iPlayer.

- thinks her long-life bulb's long life might be over.

- wonders if little man's new tooth will have come through yet.

Dappled shade

I was reminded today just how lovely it is to be strolling in the dappled shade of a deciduous woodland on a hot summer's day. A combination of smoke from charcoal making and suncream in my eyes made me quite dreamy. And I got round the slightly muddy paths with little man on my back much easier than my friends with pushchairs did. Ner, ner, ner, ner, ner.

We were at Cuerden Valley Park fair, eating hog roast rolls, chocolate fudge and Mrs Dawson's ice cream. Little man joined in with the Leyland Morris Men and nearly got trampled on. He then tried to steal their sticks when they weren't looking.

Little fella slept right through my knit and natter last night. (In fact he slept til 7.30am. Woohoo.) Not a lot of knitting got done but there was a lot of nattering and a moderate amount of wine supping. Now I'm finishing off all the semi-drunk bottles and munching the leftover nibbles. Yum.

I'm off to put up my tipi in the woods. Preferably some woods containing dangerous outlaws such as Jonas Armstrong. Unfortunately Sherwood Forest would be on the other side of the Pennines. That's the wrong side of the Pennines, by the way. If there's even anything left of Sherwood Forest. Maybe I'll find a small copse closer to home. For a picnic.

A glass of wine

When STBE husband left, my alcohol intake went down dramatically. It was usually him who bought it previously. I took up knitting and was therefore too busy to guzzle. I really only drank when with family or friends a couple of times a week.

Now I am feeling quite stressed and very tired, juggling little man, work, everyday stuff, communications with STBE husband and the occasional bit of me time. And I keep having to make emergency trips to the shops for wine on the way home from work.

So here's the conundrum: should I just stock up so it's there whenever I fancy it or should I try to resist? Should I bother putting pressure on myself to not drink at a time like this? Or should I take control and decide to save money and not put my health at risk just because I am going through a difficult time?

Right now I am supping a glass of a half-price Chilean cabernet sauvignon from Tesco Express near work. I got home from work to be told that little man had been left to cry for ten minutes when he was put to bed. He has resisted going to bed a few times in the last week, but it is highly unusual. He is usually zonked out by 7pm. Last night I read him books and cuddled up with him in my bed until he was fast asleep and transferred him to his cot at 8.30pm. I believe that if he is upset he needs security and reassurance. I do not believe that crying himself to sleep is a good association to make: going to bed should be a lovely, cosy thing. And I know from experience that this phase will pass in its own good time.

So I am off to fill my glass while I ponder how I can remain in control of the manner in which my little man is brought up at the same time as earning some money and handing him over to his wider clan members. And after that glass I am definitely having an early night in case whatever is bothering him wakes him up before 6am.