There’s something magical about the first Monday after the clocks go back. When everyone pours onto the streets of London into the pitch dark after work there are sparkles in eyes because it feels unexpectedly like a still winter’s evening just before snow …
We had a an unseasonal bright, sunny morning at wake-up time today; of course we were all up in the dim one hour before that, infant body clocks being what they are. Mean time also means it’ll be dark in a couple of hours from now and I’ll be returning from work this week at the sensory equivalent of midnight …
Perhaps most frustrating of all the words I May Not Use is the word “fart”. Apparently it’s unladylike (the word, not the action. Ummm. The word, not just the action? Oh I don’t know). So what are the alternatives?
I’ve just spent twenty minutes completing Sophie’s passport application after which I signed it with a flourish which crossed the lines and invalidated the whole thing …
My youngest child is having a shouting match with a jabberwock right behind me, which is making it a little difficult to get started tonight …
We all had a good night’s sleep last night. What’s amazing is the effect that a good sleep has on the potency of the wormhole that disguises itself as our shower …
With a quiet bit of deck, a patio heater, good company and an inquisitive robin.
My thirty-fifth year began with Josie saying “Happy birthday, James” (I’ve been James all week and am quite enjoying the novelty) and presenting me with a re-purposed Christmas card …
The shops are inexplicably full of pumpkins at the moment, so Michelle and Josie made a lantern. Novel, I know. It’s this kind of unprompted spontaneity just sparking off around me that keeps me sharp …
Scintillating Saturday spent cleaning in the morning and shopping for most of the afternoon. I should also mention that we think we’ve found a suitable replacement to the Fart …