Little man's nursery report

Little man here, taking over as mummy has been somewhat remiss of late in updating her blog. Anyway, I can report that I like going to nursery and it meets many of my requirements. They have lots of toys to play with and lots of space to run around in outside. I'm even getting used to the windy conditions since the nursery is situated on a heath which is probably the most exposed spot in town. I get to do more painting than I do at home, although mummy did show me how to make purple at home last week, so I decided to do purple handprints with paint that isn't meant for finger painting while mummy was icing some cakes we'd made. That was after I'd decided the tablecloth needed a trim with my scissors.

I have lots of friends at nursery, but I'm not sure what all their names are. Mummy thinks I must have seen one of them throw a punch at some point, because I tried it on mummy when I was angry. She walked off to another room. I like some of the snacks we get, especially the naan bread and dips, but I'm not impressed with tinned spaghetti on toast. (Note from mummy: Tinned spaghetti? WTF?) Yesterday, we had a teddy bear's picnic and I wore blue teddy bear ears.

Mummy here. Just thought I'd share with you the contents of little man's rucksack which I discovered this morning, all essential items in a survival situation. Along with spare underpants and trousers there were: a set of mummy's bangles, a beanbag, half a plastic egg, a wine bottle cork, a set of JCB tyres, a packet of tissues and a new torch.

Fantasy facebook

My laptop broke, ok?! And now that I've borrowed a laptop, my modem is playing up. I had to borrow a laptop because, having decided which new one I'd like to buy, I then got my car insurance renewal for pretty much the same amount of money. Anyway, I've been mentally writing this post. Which means I've forgotten it all and will have to make it up again.

Not to be confused with fantasy football, in which I have absolutely no interest, this is fantasy facebook where you daydream about the preposterous status updates you could have. This may sound like a lamentable pastime, and certainly doesn't encourage 'living in the moment', but I feel that long bouts of motorway driving legitimate it as an acceptable means of amusement. Here goes:

• has doubled her income by selling subversive cross-stitch samplers online.
• has met a lovely man who has his own allotment and camper van and is hopelessly infatuated with her.
• has spent the entire day staring at clouds.
• was going to eBay her ice axe but decided to go and climb Mont Blanc instead.
• just bumped into Ray Mears and Hugh Fearnley-Whittingstall and was invited to join their gourmet campfire dinner.
• has just published an award-winning anthology of erotic short stories.
• has knitted a bright pink tea cosy with lime green polka dots and is going to throw a massive tea party to show it off.
• cancelled all commitments this morning and drove to Durness to swim in the sea instead.

Bad parenting at the forest

I'm a bad mother. We went to The Forest today. That's Delamere Forest, although anyone who lives in Cheshire just calls it The Forest. It was about 7am when I decided we'd go. I thought we'd go early while it was still quiet. Just after 10am, we actually left the house, packed lunch in tow. But it seems I do not observe proper parenting practice whilst in the great outdoors. I did not, for example, expect him to stay clean. I did not tell him off for sliding down sandy embankments on his backside. I did not tell him off for getting green, mossy stains on the knees of his trousers. I did not tell him off for using his fingers to gouge interesting stones out of the earth. I did not tell him off for straying off the path to inspect every unfurling fern frond, every potentially climbable tree, every perfectly seat-like tree trunk, every half-nibbled pine cone, every mysterious rabbit hole. I did not warn him every five seconds about the nettles. Somehow, he managed not to get nettled. Somehow, we managed to have fun. Somehow, we managed to walk a couple of miles. Or so. I wasn't measuring. Another parenting fail. I had no buggy (it's been relegated to the loft). I couldn't pick him up due to the hernia op recovery, hence had no sling either. And I had only a vague idea of where we were going and how far away from the car park we were. Although I do have a tried-and-tested good sense of direction.

So now I'm raising a glass to my parenting failures, and to fresh air, and to dirt, and to exploring. Must do it more often.

How to make healthy pancakes

Disclaimer: This blog post contains absolutely no recipes for, or information about, healthy pancakes.

Step 1: Go shopping in your usual manner. Actually, we would normally walk to the Co-op, which is healthy, but today we drove, which is not, because we needed more shopping than I thought I could carry. When we get there, little man generally takes charge of one of those basket-on-wheels thingies while I get a normal basket too. He has a tendency to ram into old ladies. Who mostly coo in proper old lady fashion, but not always. Once you get to the queue, you have to get the small one to help unload the baskets onto the conveyor belt. This is a purely diversionary tactic to stop them running round and round the booze aisle with arms flailing dangerously close to the bottles. Near the checkout will be some of those plastic lemon-shaped lemon juice squeezy thingies. You will be required to purchase one.

Step 2: Make pancake batter in the usual manner. My recipe is in imperial: 4oz flour, one egg, half a pint of milk. Make a well in the flour, drop in the egg, start to draw in flour whilst slowly pouring in half the milk. Then bung in the rest of the milk and beat til bubbly. (Did I just tell you how to make pancake batter? I do apologise.) Important: You must be getting a bolognese sauce under way at the same time as you make the pancake batter. This allows the small one to spend plenty of time beating the batter while you juggle burning-hot pans full of scalding-hot fat from the mince. While you are pouring off the fat, the small one will knock over the bowl of batter. Approximately half of it will spill over the worktop and onto his jumper. Clear this up in a cheery, it's ok, it was an accident, manner. You have just saved approximately half the calories of a standard batch of pancakes.

Step 3: I forgot to mention the healthy carrots that made their way into the batter before it was spilt. The carrot circles you thought the small one might have liked to eat. But he/she will demand cucumber instead. Now is the time to fish out and bin (or rinse and compost) the carrot.

Step 4: Having resisted the urge to swig wine straight from the bottle at midday and transferred the bolognese to the slow cooker, fire up your frying pan. Make the first pancake and present it to the child. Sprinkle on a little sugar and allow the small one to squirt on some lemon juice. They will put on an excessive amount. Present the small one with knife and fork. They will declare at this point that they don't like pancakes.

Step 5: Eat the rest of the pancakes yourself while the child squirts lemon juice onto their plate and laps it up like a cat. They will eventually move on to squirting it directly into their mouth. When there is about one nano-gram left in the lemon juice container, they will declare they do not like it and pull a funny face. Oh good, you will reply, because it's all gone.

Step 6: Congratulate yourself on your child's vitamin C intake, give them something else for lunch and clear up the mess.

Annual life assessment

Health: Hernia repair op due on March 25th. Weight creeping up again due to Christmas, the gloominess of January and the prolonged birthday season. Otherwise not so bad apart from the fact that I'm being eaten all up by a dragon right now.
Wealth: Middling to poor. But at least I still don't earn enough to have to pay back my student loan. And I saved some money on electricity yesterday when we had a power cut. New car is saving lots on fuel (to get to work, to earn money to buy more fuel to get to work...)
Career: I don't understand the concept.
Friends and family: Fab. Don't know what I'd do without them. The boy is generally a very happy chappy.
Romance: Non existent. Have ordered duplicate marriage certificate so I can start divorce process. Maybe once that's under way I'll try internet dating again. And maybe it'll be better than cardigan guy, the one I met at a coffee shop who didn't bring enough money for a coffee and the one who was so quietly spoken I couldn't carry on a conversation with him.
Creativity and general airy fairiness: I knit. I hug trees. I smile at daffodils. I found a tai chi class that fits in with my strange work and childcare arrangements. Occasionally I write stuff that mostly never sees the light of day. I daydream about the sea. I'm trying to decide whether to put pagan, taoist or Jedi on my census form.
Overall outlook: Life is good.

If you hadn't guessed, it's my birthday. I'm 34. Little man got me a ready-to-plant strawberry hanging basket and nasturtium bucket, via daddy.

Birthdays and giggles

This is how the third birthday of a boy who has separated, working parents goes:

• Phase 1: The Saturday before. Trip to the safari park with mummy and daddy. This is the once-a-year opportunity for him to have both the people he cares most about there at the same time. I've suggested to daddy we should do it slightly more often. Anyway, little man's favourite animals were the lions. Later, we all had pizza for tea.
• Phase 2: The day itself. First use of the scooter. More presents to open and play with. A new book to read. Chocolate and milk in a cafe with grandma. An afternoon of more scooting at grandma and grandad's house while mummy goes to work.
• Phase 3: Birthday tea day. This is where we're up to now. Food shopping to do. Cake to bake. Lunch with friends to fit in in between. Tea with mummy, grandma, grandad, auntie, uncle and cousin later.
• Phase 4: The Saturday after. Start of a weekend with daddy and birthday tea with the other grandma and grandad. A new bike to be ridden.

And the giggles? Little man telling me to go away and trying to lift me up the stairs by the leg so he can use his scooter in the house without me seeing. And the discovery of a lump in his jeans pocket, which turned out to be an acorn which must have been there for months.

Sunny pottering... in numbers

Visits to cafes: Two, one at the park in the morning; one at the arts centre near home with grandma and grandad in the afternoon.
Falls into mud whilst kicking football at park: About 47.
Very small trees scaled: 3, sort of, including the odd slip and cry of 'help me, mummy.'
Strangers befriended: 5, including the two volunteers in the park cafe, a three-year-old girl and the three-year-old's grandma.
Strangers who tutted at us: 1 old woman, as the boy ran round and got a bit noisy in the art gallery. Because obviously children shouldn't be taken anywere remotely cultural.
Inches of boy's scarf knitted: About 36. In 100% polyester snowflake yarn. Classy. But little man found it in the craft shop and started rubbing his cheek on it to sighs of 'ahh'.
Playings of 'This is Our House' DVD in succession: 7. A book by Michael Rosen and Bob Graham that he has suddenly taken a liking to. Involving a little boy playing in a cardboard box house who won't let anyone else in.
Accidents in underpants: 0
Changes of underpants: 1, due to falling over in mud and playing on wet park.
Wees in toy watering can whilst in the bath with mummy who was too lazy to get out to put him on the loo: 1

A toddler's eye view

Little man here. I got my hands on mummy's camera and took a few snapshots at home this morning. Here are some of the results.

Cars (the movie) colouring pad.

Self portrait. If you look closely you can see my branchial cleft sinuses, aka two holes in my neck that sometimes go red and gooey.)

Here's mummy in the kitchen, pulling a funny face and with scary red eyes. The post-it notes are her to-do list. I think she should add 'wash up' and 'get hair cut'.

My insey winsey spider game.

Me standing in a stream on my play mat.

Mummy's hair looking shiny.

My potty. Empty.



Selection of toys.



My big house.

Our fish, and the pottery snail I painted at a stall in the park last summer and which is miraculously still in one piece.

Topics of conversation

It's 8.30am. So far today the boy and I have discussed:

• The fact that the bumpy bits on his hands are called knuckles, which are a type of joint, and that we need them so we can move our fingers.
• The relative states of happiness of baby fly and daddy fly, whose sadness can be assuaged only by being stuffed in my dressing gown pocket for a while then removed and fed multigrain hoops.
• The crescent-moon like shape of broken multigrain hoops (own-brand, people, don't tell me off). Who'd have thought he knew the word 'crescent' even if he does pronounce it like it begins with a 'p'?
• The technical specifications of the cast of Chuggington, including wipers, horns, lights, colours, shininess and top speeds.
• What colour we should paint our front door. The boy chose blue, which is good because that's what I already decided and I've bought the paint.
• The difference between a 2D picture of a circle and a 3D wooden sphere.
• Many other topics, including snails, buses, Baa Baa Black Sheep, missing mummy and daddy when they go to work, what we might sing at Jo Jingles, mummy's need for tea, daffodils, wallpaper, fish, sewing machines, the Insey Winsey Spider game and the fluffiness of dressing gowns.

Right now...

• Little man is looking extraordinarily cute in his fluffy new dressing gown. Thank you grandma and grandad.
• He is playing his new incey wincey spider game by himself, by which I mean he's shaking the dice and counting the spiders (four).
• We're having breakfast after a bit of a lie-in. I gave B the usual 'it's too early to hide from dinosaurs' spiel when he first arrived in my room then realised it was twenty to eight so sang the 'Mummy loves B/what shall we do today?' mash-up instead.
• I want to take the Christmas tree down but suppose I should wait until Saturday.
• I'm wondering with amusement what little man will make of YO! Sushi, which is where we're going for lunch.
• At the moment he's eating some peppered salami, but eating all the peppery bit at once and telling me it's too spiky. Oh, now he's telling me to eat the pepper 'snake'.
• The new toy  house is taking up a lot of room in the dining room, which is required for a family dinner tonight.
• I'm trying to decide which sling to take on the train to Liverpool, which is a tough one because B usually walks everywhere these days (everywhere usually being ten minutes into our local town). In fact, it must be weeks and weeks since I carried him.
• I'm going to make my second cup of tea and still lamenting the absence of a nice man to do it for me, although I can't stand the thought of actually having to share my house with someone else at the moment.

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 few questions

Why did I think that having a boy would get me out of having My Little Pony figures in the house when the boy has a cousin whose girlie toys he can raid?
Is it better to have a cold on your days off, or while you're stuck at a desk?
What is the source of the leaky water marks on the upstairs ceilings and can it be easily remedied without replacing the entire, asbestos-containing, roof?
Why does little man think that the Tombliboos want to steal his milk?
If I leave today's dirty dishes lying around the kitchen, will they all be magically washed up and put away by morning?
Should I knit or embroider this evening?
When is little man's final tooth going to finally put in an appearance (yes, he is over two and a half now).
When should I swap the nappies for underpants?
Should I paint my front door bright, shiny red or bright, shiny blue?
How soon do I need to find a nursery for little man to go to next April?
Have I worn sandals for the last time this year?
How can little man go from being adorable to a wailing terror within seconds?
Am I inflicting lasting damage by calling him 'little poppet pie' or 'scampi chicken'?

My life in music

Today, I decided I have been listening to Biffy Clyro too much, if such a thing is possible. I have a friend who will soon be able to confirm whether this is possible. That's because she brought her iPod shuffle round to fill from my laptop and we didn't know how much memory it had. Turns out it was 1GB and all she got on there was some AC/DC, some Aerosmith, and everything Biffy Clyro have every released. But she does need to get in training for when she comes to see them with me in Manchester in December...

Anyway, just for fun I decided to go with the 'All Songs' option on my iPod. With mind-boggling results. On the way home from work, driving down the M6 in atrocious weather, I got to listen to songs by, in this order: Nirvana, Norah Jones, Queens of the Stone Age, Enrique Iglesias, New Model Army, Katie Melua, Simon Webbe, Mumford & Sons, Lenny Kravitz, Newton Faulkner, Aerosmith, Guns n' Roses.

So I'm now going to bore you with the story behind some of these. Nirvana were always guaranteed to be played at the so-called club where the mid-teenaged me used to hang out at the Alternative Night every Friday and I'm sure I've snogged many a lovely long-haired boy to their dulcet tones. Norah Jones and Katie Melua belong to the smug married phase of my life. We even went to see Katie in Blackpool. They're not on my regular playlist now. Queens of the Stone Age reminded me that it's probably not a good idea to download a band's entire discography before you've actually worked out whether you like them.

Enrique Iglesias I blame on the ex; there are things on my laptop put there by him several years ago. I had to skip it. I just had to. New Model Army reminded me of going to see bands at the Royal Court in Liverpool as a wee youngster. I sacked off my Duke of Edinburgh Silver Award practice hike to go and see them. Simon Webbe. What can I say? I think there was one song I liked. I am ashamed of myself. Mumford & Sons are a new discovery and they're fantastic. Folk rock. Who'd have thought there was such a thing? Lenny Kravitz, he has his moments.

Newton Faulker is another one I blame on the ex. And I actually think some of these CDs that got copied onto my computer originated with the woman he had an affair with. Nice. Perhaps I should delete them all. Perhaps I should decide if I like the music first. Aerosmith. I believe they're actually cool again. I was never that much into them in my first heavy metal phase but now I think they're quite good fun. Guns n' Roses were the first proper band I went to see, with the first proper long-term boyfriend I had. Slash stuffed up the intro to Sweet Child O' Mine. Now you can buy Guns n' Roses t-shirts in trendy high street stores. Weird.

And for my journey to work tomorrow: Scouting for Girls (who are these people?), Antonio Forcione (ace jazz guitarist), Fanfare Ciocarlia (Romanian gypsy music), Pearl Jam, Bon Jovi, Free, and, finally, Biffy.

First amendment

I have just checked, and in a post about a year ago I did promise not to leave you for more than three days without a post. A promise I have repeatedly broken recently. And because I am me, I actually remembered the original pledge and feel bad for not sticking to my word.

So I'm having to make an amendment: I will not leave you for more than three days without a post unless: a) my brain is functioning at less than twenty per cent capacity because of the small person's night-time fidgetings; b) there is something worth watching on the telly; or, c) I am too busy ogling the video for Biffy Clyro's The Captain.

(a) is probably my most likely excuse and will no doubt result in a post some time soon.
(b) is unlikely to occur now that Spartacus, the only thing I was bothering to tune in for, has finished.
(c) may happen on occasion when hormones demand it.

As for my other pledges, I'm glad to have confirmed to myself that I am keeping most of them. Particularly in terms of not sparing you the expletives or any unsavoury details concerning such things as menstruation, puke or toddler poo and in being utterly contradictory at all times.

Answers

I've been tagged by Skippedydoodah. I've also been tagged a couple of times before but as those posts require photos I'm putting them off... As for tagging other folks, I don't like to put anyone under pressure! So straight on to the answers:


1) When were you most relaxed – and I mean so chilled you couldn’t move?


I remember a particularly sunny afternoon on Ynys Llandwyn, a kind of semi-island off Anglesey in North Wales. Lying on the grass above the beach, hearing the waves fizzing over the sand and bees buzzing in the sea thrift. Probably the odd seagull's cry up above. The water so bright and sparkly you could barely look at it. Clear views across to the mountains of Snowdonia. Warm sunshine on your face. An equally chilled husband next to me at that time.

2) Who in your life has changed you the most? (for good or bad)

I was going to say the aforementioned husband, as we met when I was 16 and split when I was 31 - that's a lot of time at such a changeable period of one's life. But... I think it's actually my son. There's nothing like having a child to make you think about what's important in life. And that it's generally the small, simple things. Also, when you have a newborn baby to look after you put your own needs on the backburner. I think that as that baby turns into a toddler and you maybe, just maybe, get to think a bit about yourself you re-evaluate what you think are your needs and wants.

3) What gets you up on your soap box – finger waving, rhetoric spouting, red-faced, passionately standing up for what you believe in?

I'm not a soap boxy sort of person. Confrontation scares me. I'm more of a quietly simmer but never say anything type. One of the big things that bugs me is when people think that everything in life comes down to money.

4) Which book/s have you read the most number of times (and are likely to read 100 times more)?

Lord of the Rings. Now I feel very cliched, but it's the book I turn to when I don't fancy anything else. A few times I've got to the end and started right back at the beginning. I guess it has that epic quality about it. I also love the idea of just heading off to tramp through the wilds. And I'm very short and fond of good food and ale.

5) Where is ‘Home’? The house you grew up in, the house you’re in now, or the house in your dreams?

The house I'm in now. I'm not one for nostalgia (and I don't like my parents' net curtains) and although I may daydream of a stone cottage by the sea somewhere on Britain's west coast my future is currently a bit of an unknown. I never thought I would move back to my home town, which is not really a place anyone would aspire to move to although I don't mind it. And I never thought I would have to buy a house on my own (or indeed that any mortgage company would lend me the money since I don't have a real job). But here I am, in my own house with my son and I've made it nice and cosy. If only I could afford a woodburning stove...

6) What attribute of yours would you most like to pass on to your children?

Erm, I'm thinking of things like self-reliance, determination, that horrible phrase: a can-do attitude. Not that I'm always like that.

7) How do you organise your life? Are you a list-maker, a scheduler or a “we’ll see when we get there” kinda person?

I used to be a list maker. Then I realised that whenever I weighed up decisions rationally, I still always ended up choosing the option that felt right. So that's what I do now. I do what feels right. I do a certain amount of forward planning, like trying to have fun things scheduled for days when I don't have the little man and I'm not working. Sometimes, if I start to feel overwhelmed by having lots of things to do, I'll write a to-do list and then try to make myself get through lots of the easier items on it so I feel like I've really dented it. But usually I ignore the to-do list and go out for cake instead. Or lose the book with the list in. I don't have a grand plan in life because I'm still dealing with the loss of the future I thought I had ahead of me.

8 ) And finally, because this one’s been bugging me for a while now: How much wood would a woodchuck chuck, if a woodchuck could chuck wood?

I reckon about three trees' worth a day. Depending on the type and size of tree. Maybe only one fully mature oak. Half a dozen ten-year-old silver birches. Unless we're talking pre-cut logs. And I'd like the woodchuck to chuck it in my direction; I'll store it all up for when I get my woodburner.

Right now....

• I am absolutely bloody knackered from not being able to sleep properly then getting woken by the boy's arrival in the middle of the night.
• I need a recipe for cornflake cakes that just uses cocoa powder instead of actual melted chocolate, because who could actually keep chocolate in stock in their cupboards?
• I do not know where the baby fish is.
• I cannot make the car fit inside the egg shell.
• I am being cuddled up to by a boy who has a plastic slice of watermelon that he insists is a boat.
• Tea, tea and more tea is required.
• I have just remembered that the roadworks from hell on the M6 at Haydock are OVER at last and that I promised myself a bottle of something fizzy when this happened. And I don't mean diet Coke.
• I am hoping the boy has forgotten the toy guitar I bought him yesterday and which has already been left behind at the other grandparents' house.
• I am being given a slice of plastic bacon for breakfast. Yum.
• I am looking out of my north-facing window and trying to decide if a picnic with friends in Lancashire is going to become an indoor picnic.
• I am considering burning the grubby net curtains that hide the electric and gas meters inside a cupboard and which I intended to replace months ago with something prettier but have still not got around to.
• I am also considering whether to ask the boy's father to have him on Saturday night even though it's not his weekend for that because I am just so effing tired I am struggling to function.

Little blue book

I've lost it, my little blue book with cutesy white spots. I've lost my to-do list. The one I often ignore for weeks on end but usually glance at just in time to avert major financial disaster. I've lost my shopping wishlist. This is the one that tells me the Stuff I think little man or I could do with so that when I get the urge to spend money I spend it on something that might actually be useful and not a pile of pointless junk. And not more tunes from a well-known digital music store where it is far too easy to splash the cash without really noticing. I've lost my list of crafty projects I'd like to do, or should do - like the curtains that I haven't made for seven months now.

Other things in our lives right now:

• The boy has purple nail varnish on his toes.
• I can't stop listening to Biffy Clyro.
• We've had so much torrential rain it has been impossible to even think about doing any work at the allotment.
• My courgettes are turning into marrows.
• I once again have library fines to pay, exacerbated by the fact that my nearest library doesn't open on a Wednesday, a fact I discovered after walking there with all the books and boy in tow.
• I am becoming increasingly bothered by the hideousness of my gas fire.
• This is a three cups of tea morning.
• I am not that keen on runner beans.
• I am being politely requested (read: bashed over the head with the magnetic drawing board thingy to wails of pig, pig, pig) to draw a picture of Peppa Pig so had better go and get on with it.

In an ideal world...

• Babies would come complete with teeth.
• The arrival of little man's final two molars would not have coincided with mummy having PMT.
• Mummy would have had her Mooncup boiled and ready before her period started.
• Little boys would instinctively know how to use a hankie.
• Rain would come at regular intervals rather than vast quantities in a short period of time after weeks of drought.
• Mummies would not be distracted by their children in the back of the car whilst passing a mobile speed camera positioned about a hundred yards before the change from a 40 to 60mph zone.
• The tastiest food would also be the healthiest.
• Therefore, cakes would be calorie-free.
• Clothes would make it into drawers and wardrobes between being washed and being worn again.
• Internet connections would not inexplicably stop working.
• Children would not be automatically drawn to the one thing they shouldn't mess around with.
• Everything would be where it belongs, including, for example, the tin of pins being actually in the sewing box and the kitchen scissors being in the kitchen utensils pot.
• Toddlers would be compatible with mummy's desire to do crafty things.
• I would have remembered I need to put the washing out on the line instead of writing this before it's time for little man's bath.
• Life would be dull and predictable.

Five things...

...I'd like to be able to do:

1. Play the guitar (like I could when I was eighteen).
2. Roll a kayak.
3. Chop wood (and have a stove to burn it in).
4. The whole of the 24-step Yang-style tai chi form.
5. Walk the Offa's Dyke Path.

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.