1.  Who Disturbs My Slumber?

2.  The Little Mermaid

3.  Chicken Run

Tired, tired, tired.  Son 1 aged 5 was trying to get into the Big Bed before midnight last night, so I took him back to his bed, got back in with him, got him back to sleep, woke up in the wee hours and headed off to the Double Bed to try and sleep. “Mummmeee!” called Son 1.  I put him back in his bed, explained I had to sleep alone or I’d be grumpy, and went off again. Not a creature was stirring and everything was still dark when Son 2 aged  2y 1m hollered for me. The Man went in. Son 2 had hysterics in disappointment. “NO! MUMMMEEEE!” The Man brought him in to me. He snugged. Son 1 padded in after. The line-up was Son 2, me, Son 1, The Man. Son 2 span round like a drill bit.  Son 1’s arms snaked out,  insistent fingers seeking my eyebrows. The Man gave up and went back to The Big Bed. In the end, I asked Son 1 to go back to his own bed. And begged Son 2 to go to sleep.  We were wakened well after 9am by the phone. Nanna ringing to find out today’s plans.  The Man and Son 1 were upstairs in the Big Bed watching Sponge Bob.  Son 1 wanted to make a spoon pirate.  “After swimming,” I said. He ignored me, and made one while he was eating his pancake.

We went to the Town Pool. Nanna sat at the side and watched. Teenaged Niece is 18 and a champion swimmer, with a Sharon Davies figure, natural blonde hair, huge baby-blue eyes,  Californian-style braces on gleaming white teeth and an unstoppable laugh.  She was dazzling.   Into the pool, laughing and splashing, came Best Friend and Best Friend’s Little Brother.  Wednesday Mum followed behind. She took one look at Teenaged Niece and said “What did you bring her for?” “Because now I know no-one will be looking at my skanky swimsuit,” I said.  Son 1 and Best Friend were overjoyed to see each other, inseparable, and high with happiness.  Son 1 hasn’t seen Best Friend since his birthday.  The fact that they’re in different schools is a secret source of regret. But they live 200 yards from the Outstanding Village School with the 16-place reception class. And we don’t.   I spent all the time with Son 2… Teenaged Niece played with the older boys, diving in, popping up and swimming under, sleek as a seal. Son 2 is also a natural swimmer, doing two widths - each time because he wanted to go somewhere else.  Plenty of jumping, playing in the bubble baths and splashing in the warm water coming out of the jets.

Back home Nanna, Teenaged Niece and the boys went upstairs to watch telly.  I made cups of tea and started on lunch. After a coffee and a little read of the paper. I went upstairs and announced I was going to sit down for five minutes. Son 2 dropped his frog bottle on the carpet and, because he’d loosened the top, it burst open, spilling what seemed like several gallons of pineapple juice. Oh I wish I’d taken it better. I made dinner, roast chicken, roast potatoes, sweetcorn, spinach, carrots and leeks. The Man came in and made onion gravy. Son 1 came down with Teenaged Niece and made another spoon pirate.  By the time the meal was ready, Son 2 could hardly stand. He managed a bit of food, but just wanted to flop on me.  Son 1 did better. After TN and Nanna had gone we rubbed our latest anti-lice goo - which we think is neat petrol - into the boys’ hair and combed through. When they were asleep  The Man and I put the petrol on our heads and checked each other.  Love is…

1.  Souvenirs

2.  Keepsakes

3.  A Lovesome Thing

Thank Heavens and Stars we didn’t have to get up for school.  Son 1 aged 5 was already in the Double Bed with us, Son 2 aged 2 roared: “I WANT MY MUMMY!” We brought him in with us, and tried to settle them both back to sleep.  “Big Poo.” Ah.  I switched the light on to change him. Son 1 reached over and switched it off again.  I took Son 2 into the bathroom.  I’d picked up two lollies on my Office trip, and had stuffed them in my vanity case.  He found them instantly. “I wan’ lollipop! I wan’ lollipop!” “No,” I said. “You can have one later.” “I wan’ lollipop!” He burst into tears. “Son 1 will go back to sleep if you keep the noise down,” called The Man. I took Son 2 downstairs. 

We had to take Granny back to the Airport, and decided we would stop off in the Big Town. Granny gave Son 1 a ten pound note, and it was smouldering in his pocket.  I needed to take back part of Son 1’s uniform - the shop had given me an aged 8 size instead of aged 5. Son 1 wanted to go to the Early Learning Centre to look at the toys.  The Man and Granny said they’d go and swap the clothes, and I could stay with the boys. “You can all go,” said Son 1. “I will look at toys and  wait for you.” “No,” said The Man. “We need someone with you to supervise.” “I have super eyes!” Son 1said. “I will look at all the toys and make sure I see everyone. I have the best eyes, don’t I Mummy?”  Son 1 chose a PIrates and Baddies spoons set, and Son 2 wanted a little farm.   How do people keep on top of toys?  We have so many we can barely all fit in The House, and The Man and I have Deep and Earnest (= Somewhat  Shouty) conversations about how The House is full of tat.   

We waved Granny off and went to Nanna’s. No-one in. I’d left my mobile at home. We climbed over various plants, spread out the car rug, got out the boys’ tuck box and a ball from the car, and settled down to read the Early Learning Centre catalogue.  Bees buzzed and big Red Admirals settled on the Michaelmas daisies. The sun shone.  The boys played with Son 2’s farm, and Son 1 whined that he wanted to make his pirates.  Son 1 needed a poo.  It was a difficult moment. All we could do was aim him at an open nappy and fold everything up into a nappy bag.  Son 2 announced he’d done a poo. We’d just used the last nappy. We’d waited an hour, but we had to go. Back home there was a message on the mobile.  Nanna and Teenaged Niece had been delayed.  I rang them and we agreed to meet tomorrow. It was good to be back in the Big Bed.

1.  The Gates Of Dawn

2.  Dulce Domum

3.  Wayfarers All

I am really not well.  Weak as a kitten, hurting head full of snot, racking cough, sore chest, sore throat and ears that crack horribly everytime I swallow. I could prove it was swine flu if I could be bothered to look for our thermometer.   In the meantime I’ll assume it’s just the cold I get every time I take any leave. It’s not helped by a lack of sleep. I went out last night to our book club, and got to bed about midnight. Then I woke at 5am, my head thumping. Son 1 aged 4y 11m arrived.  I tried to get him back to sleep, and at 6am crept downstairs to make a vast pot of coffee - I’m a keen believer in caffeine for colds.  It wasn’t quite dawn, so I took my coffee to sit in the bay window and watch the sun come up over the river.  A shadow flitted in. Son 1.  We put cushions on the window seat, and hauled one of Nanna’s big blankets over ourselves to keep warm.  Camping. Son 1 loved it and snuggled up to me. We watched vans and cars drive by.  We watched the sky lighten.  “I’m bored with camping,” said Son 1 after 15 minutes.

The Man’s sunflower is now the largest, and Son 1 and I have claimed it as Ours. A yellow flower has today started to appear.  Son 1 and Wonder Nanny played pirates. Son 2 aged 23m and I went outside. He wanted to play with Wah Wah, so I put him in his swimsuit, boiled a kettle, squeezed in some washing up liquid and warmed up the rainwater for him.  I went and got myself a garden cushion so I could sit and watch him. “More,” said Son 2, trotting off to bring out all the others, one by one.  As soon as Son 1 saw the bubbles he was out there too.  Adding compost to make a potion.  The parcel for the Scooby party arrived, and Son 1 was almost sick with excitement. Wonder Nanny made minestrone soup.  We had lunch. Son 2 and I went for a sleep. 

We woke up at 3pm, and an old friend was downstairs with Wonder Nanny and Son 1.  Just on Wednesday i was looking back to Breastfeeding Group nearly five years ago, at the July baby, the September baby and the October baby. There was also an August baby, the little girl, just five, playing with Son 1, whom we haven’t seen for nearly a year.  The Man came back from The Boat and we went crabbing.  Son 2 demanded I take him to the riverside beach just as the others hauled in crab 14 to break our record. Another family joined the others, but Son 2 and I walked round to the low tide beach.  It’s covered in broken glass.  “Son 2 just pick up the shells or the stones NOT THE GLASS.”  Son 2 kept picking up the glass. The water’s edge was glass free, so I took him there,  me keeping his reins on, him with his dungarees rolled up. Son 1 joined us, but ran in the sea with his trousers on “Take them OFF! Look, you hold Son 2’s reins and I’ll help you.”  I pulled off his trousers. I turned round. He’d let go Son 2’s reins and Son 2 had strode out into the river, standing hip-high in the water,  looking back at me.   Son 1 danced in the water, naked from the waist down.  His five year old friend gazed longingly after him. “Son 1 come back! It’s not fair on Son 2 or Your Friend!”  I promised him we would come back in our swimming costumes one day and both go in. At bedtime he was so tired he lay in his bed while I was singing to Son 2. When I’d finished Son 2’s night-nights, Son 1 was fast asleep.

1.  Warriors

2. Rangers

3. Hunters

Son 2 aged 22m has taken to early morning screaming again.  I have been comatose this week, so The Man has sorted him. This morning was my turn.  Slightly tipsy last night, I crashed in the double bed.  Son 1aged 4y 10m joined me at 4am.  Much eyebrowing.  No sleep.  And then Son 2 started hollering. “Mummeee!”  “Mummeee!” I went in, told him to stop making that noise, put his fan on, kissed him, said night night and left.  He was apoplectic.  He yelled, he shrieked, he roared, he shouted.  We drowsed.  “MUMMEEE!!! MUMMMMEEEE!!!!!”  It stopped, eventually.  A while later it began again, equally angry.  Again, I left him. When I got him up from his cot at 8am he wouldn’t look at me.

A sponsored walk today, with some Office colleagues, in a town 30 miles away.  The sort of event that In Five Years’ Time I could take the children to. This time, I left them at home with The Man.  I set out late and found my way to the start by Sat Nav.   A colleague and I powered around, really pushing the pace. It was pretty punishing; uphill around three and half sides of a square, and then a very short, steep downwards slope towards the finish.  But, brilliant countryside, amazing views, beautiful colours,  and another vast, grey, rolling sky. The rain stayed off and sunbeams made it through several times.    We had a great time.  And then at the end, in the garden of one of the organising fundraisers,  homemade muffins and coffee.  I also got a certificate for finishing. It has been many years since I got a certificate.

I got back late in the afternoon.  The boys were having veg and hummous, a very late lunch, in front of the telly. A friend and her three-year-old came round. Son 1 pogo-d around with excitement. The big boys got the bows and arrows out. “Not in here!” I barked. “Outside!” “And me!” chirruped Son 2.  We chatted on the patio while the boys played.  “We are going to shoot wild pigs,” announced Son 1. And then: “Does anyone want to cook this wild pig?” He mimed holding something. “I’ll cook it,” I said. “Can I have an arrow?” “You don’t need an arrow. We have already shooted it.” “I was going to put the arrow through the middle to roast the pig,” I said. “Then you can have this red one,” said Son 1. “I will go and kill a giraffe. Do you know how you kill a giraffe?  You climb up very high and put a knife up its nose.”   We Need To Talk About Son 1.

1.  Them

2.  Vertigo

3.  True Grit

It was Early.  “Mummmeee.  Mummmmeee.”  Son 2 aged 22m. Standing in his cot.  “Boo.” He stunk. Son 1 aged 4y 10m slid out of bed as I picked up Son 2, and followed us into the Double Bedroom.  I lay Son 2 down on the Double Bed and got in. ”That gap is just the right size for me,” pronounced Son 1, squeezing himself between me and Son 2. They buzzed me like gnats.  I took Son 2 out of his sleeping bag; he wriggled off the bed and wandered off. He came back.  Son 1 went to get some toys.  He came back. The Man snored upstairs in The Big Bed. I tried sending them to see him. They came back. I went to the loo. They followed me.  I got up, and changed Son 2’s nappy.    

We are trying to make our five-level, up a cliff, concreted back garden a bit more child-friendly.  It’s lethal at the moment, blessed as we are with the vigorous, fearless and clueless climber that is Son 2. We have a patio table separated from a 20 foot drop onto a concrete yard by a rickety fence. We have flight upon flight of open concrete steps. We have loose flagging. We have rotten trellises. We have gravel, we have crumbling terrace walls. Low maintenance and perfect for the hugely-busy, child-free mostly-out couple we were when we moved here.  The Man pulled out weeds and woody clematis; I tried to keep the boys safe. Every time The Man put the secateurs down, they had them. I tried to clear the debris away from the concrete steps to make them safer; the boys followed me and tried to help.  Left to their own devices they made a snail fizz by banging on its shell with their trowels.     We marched them into the Town.

We went to a children’s craft session at The Art Gallery.  Our Neighbour The Dancer from down the Terrace greeted us. She is a volunteer, we discovered. And an artist. Two of her decorated fairground-style horses had prime exhibition space. The boys made felt hoodies. Cut out, stick on, pipe cleaners, animal prints, stickers.  Son 2 and I made a pig, but he wouldn’t wear it. Son 1 wouldn’t let me suggest what his was. It was like Boo’s monster costume in Monsters Inc. “Hers is purple,” said Son 1. His was blue. Back home we had tea on the patio. Sausage, potatoes and peas.  Further up the cliff, houses back on to us.  There is a bungalow where an ancient man used to live. When he died about five years ago it became a squat.  As we ate, the sound of loud drumming blasted across the air. “When are you going to stop?” shouted Son 1. “We are having our tea outside!  My Mummy is sitting down and having five minutes peace!  This is too loud!”  The Man and I sipped our Sauvignon Blanc.  We made a half-hearted effort to shush him. Next door but one got his lawn mower out underneath them. “When are you going to stop!”  bellowed Son 1. The drumming stopped.

1. Before Time

2.  Lunch Time

3.  Home Time

Not yet light. I am awakened by fierce eyebrowing.  Son 1 aged 4y 9m hanging round my neck, compulsively stroking my eyebrow and fingering my closed eyelids and eyelashes. Vaguely conscious, I rolled over to check he wasn’t on the edge of the bed.  I was on the edge of the bed. He couldn’t get in. He was standing ,slumped over me, cuddling, with determined little fingers going for my eyebrows. I heaved him up and over and he was instantly asleep. I’m not even sure he was entirely awake.  Next thing I knew, there was a loud stage whisper in my ear. ”Mummeeee.   Mummmmeee.  It’s five, four, seven.”  Son 1 cannot tell the time, but he can read a digital clock.  “Go back to sleep.  We don’t get up until it’s at least six something.”  And I wasn’t going to be the one to tell him how soon that was going to be.

One of the men at The Office left today.  He’s going to work Far Far Away.  He’s very young and very special, and we are incredibly sorry to see him go.  There was a pub visit at lunchtime, which is sadly surprising for  us. ”Are we going to a proper pub?” said a male colleague. “We always end up at girl pubs.”  Indeed we were.  Seven men, two women.  Many pints of bitter.  They were all fast, funny and weirdly disparate.  Vegetarianism: “I will eat fish but I have to know it’s sustainable and caught using cruelty free methods which don’t wreck the marine environment,” said a Dark Green Colleague. “I’m vegetarian so I can have a tumble drier,” I said, using one of my latest (not necessarily true) lines. “You’ve got children so you’ve already wrecked your carbon footprint,” said the Dark Green Colleague.  “I’ve recycled someone else’s, so I win,” said The Colleague Who Adopted.

Back home, Granny and Grandad - who arrived yesterday - were in the lounge with Wonder Nanny, Son 1 and Son 2 aged 22m.  Granny and Granddad are staying at The Hotel With THe River View.  They’d been down to The Museum, where the boys coloured copiously.  They had apparently been perfectly behaved all day. Granny and Granddad cannot believe how well they’ve come on. I started putting them to bed, and The Man arrived back from his Business Trip.  Son 1 shrieked at the sound of his key in the door.  Son 2 stood on the landing and jumped up and down for joy.

1.  Clearing Off

2.  Cleaning Out

3.  Cheering Up

The First Day Of The Holidays,  Man took the boys to the Yacht Club last night. Give them a run around on the lawn, exhaust them and then we would get a lie in this morning, hooray.  Lie in my a***.  Son 1 aged 4y 9m was up and in the middle of the double bed before 6am. Eyebrowing madly http://mumsnet.com/blogs/serenedays/2009/06/10/a-quiet-time-with-my-eyebrow/. I was grumpy. I’d worked late, was whacked out and wanted to sleep. He wanted to get up. An exhausting day loomed ahead, with fatigue bringing out the worst in us both… me fractious, him fizzing.  The Man took him downstairs to put the telly on.

The Parking Fairy gave me a space outside the house last night. So The Man decided to clean out my car.  My car is a source of deep shame.  It is so cruddy… sand, feathers, sticks, mud, smoothies on the upholstery, sundry berries, sweet wrappings, pieces of fruit peel, broken toys from party bags, more sand, more mud, dust, grime, smear, stains and crumbs. And most of the outside is covered in seagull poo, kiln-fired solid by the scorching heatwave.  Son 1 was keen to help, and so soon The Man had Henry the vacuum cleaner, and Son 1 had the upholstery wipes. And very industrious they both were. Then Son 2 aged 21m spotted them. “And me!  And me!”  I put him in the driver’s seat, knowing he couldn’t escape from there with me in the front and Son 1 in the back. The Man cleaned the boot.  I used glass wipes on the windows. Son 2 effortlessly commando-crawled into the back. He got the upholstery wipes and, concentrating very hard, cleaned the windows with them.  He liked the soapy smears.  Son 1 rubbed at smoothie stains.  I  did the windscreen. The wipes came up black as if I smoked.  Son 2 rubbed and rubbed. And then pulled all the wipes out of the packet. Son 1 said he wanted a drink and went back into the house. “Food!” said Son 2. Inside, I realised it was 1230. They have lunch at 12. Son 1 had pulled a chair up to the fridge and had removed a haul of two Petit Filous and two Frubes.

Neither of them would eat their lunch. I was fractious. “You eat at Nursery, and you eat for Wonder Nanny, so why don’t you eat for me?” I stomped. “You give us too much,” said Son 1.  He was right. But I didn’t let on, and went off in a sulk. The Man and I decided to go for a drive to get them to sleep and have some peace. It sort of worked.  We drove to the Beach Cafe and bought takeaway coffees, and then drove up to the Headland to drink them. Son 2’s eyes snapped open, and he stared at the boy in the next car who was eating an ice cream.  The man in the driving seat was leaning back, eyes closed, mouth open.  The woman next to him was reading. Comrades-in-parenting. And also knackered.

1.  Jamming Till The Break Of Dawn

2.  Hotter Than July

3.  Rhythms In The Park

Too Darn Hot. The Man padded up and down the stairs in the night, a great, uncomfortable bear with a sore back, sore ankle and a bad case of overheating. Son 1 aged 4y 9m arrived in The Big Bed at 3am. “My room is too hot.”  His room was too hot. I’d closed the door to shut out the light to try to keep the little beggar in bed first thing in the morning.  I heard Son 2 aged 21m roaring “Mummeee!” The Man’s in there, I thought, he can get him up. Then grizzling: “I’s dhuk!” “I’s dhuk!” Oh God, I thought, scrabbling up. Where’s he got himself stuck… has he fallen in his cot… is he ok… He was in the Double Bed. The Man had him in a cuddled half-Nelson to keep stop him snaking off in his sleeping bag. “Dhuk!” “Dhuk!”  

We went to the Rockpool Beach to meet a Wednesday Mother and her three and a half year old.  Incredibly hot.  The tide was on its way in, so we only had a strip of rock and sand… which we more or less filled with two pushchairs and a beach mat.  Son 2 played with water, Son 1 was crotchety, I looked for cowries and found three.      The Wednesday Mum has a spirited child, and is enjoying my new childcare book,  “Honey I Wrecked The Kids,” so much she plans to get her own.  Drop The Rope is our new motto (for when you are in a tug-of-war power struggle with a child…) 

Son 1’s Nursery was holding a Pirate Afternoon, and he wanted to go. So. We went for ice creams, stopped off at The House for his Captain Hook costume, and drove over to The Big Town.  We dropped him off and Son 2 and I went to play in The Park. I had visions of us having Wonder Nanny-style hours of play together.  He wanted to watch teenagers playing tennis.  He grasped the principles at once, saying loud ”Uh-oh”s every time they fluffed a shot or hit the net.  He picked up feathers (Feh Feh,) pointed at dogs, had a little swing and played on the slide ladder. He wouldn’t go on the slide. “Hot.” “It isn’t hot darling, feel it.” Wouldn’t touch it. “Hot.”  Clearly a hot slide issue on another day, at another playground. I had some iced water in a flask and I poured him some.  Not interested in the water. Very interested in pressing the buttons on the top of the flask and pouring it out. Two hours later we picked up an exhausted Son 1 and went home.  The boys watched Ice Age 2 while The Man and I made stir fry.  “Mummy!” called Son 1. “Son 2’s drawing on your chair.” I sprang up the stairs. “What with?” “Pen.” Does anyone know how to get biro out of leather?   They came down for tea.  I’d cleaned the kitchen floor in the morning before we left.  Son 2 ate his rice with his fingers. He got one grain in his mouth for every 17 he dropped on the floor.    AFter, they played in the back yard. Son 2 took off the drain covers and dropped balls down the pipe. When they were finally asleep, I went for a hot, humid run.

1.  Sleep Solutions

2.  Devolution

3.  Evolution

Son 2 aged 20m slept in forever. Something to do with getting to bed at 1030 last night after our Journey.  Over these last five days we have really cracked the early waking. It’s incredibly simple. You just don’t put them to bed till 11pm.  And they lie in.  I’m not entirely sure how that’ll roll along when I’m back in The Office, but at least I know the principle is sound. Son 1 aged 4y 8m was getting a bit frisky when we vetoed all his ideas for entertainment in case he waked Son 2… but eventually settled for a screening of Free Willy (£3 from Tesco, got it last night when we stopped off for milk.)  “Thank you Mummy for buying that lovely story for me,” he said, after they sprung Willy and the credits rolled.

We went to the Rockpool Beach.  Heaven.  Hot hot hot. The tide coming in all the time, so we had to keep packing up camp and creeping to a strip about 2 yards wide finally left at high tide. Son 1 and Best Friend at one point cleared everything up for me and carried it over. Stunned, I grovelled, gratefully.  Son 2 toddled off with them to paddle and pull seaweed and peer in rockpools. We had lunch. I put a roasting, fainting Son 2 in the Big Pram and wheeled him along some shady pavements, and he went to sleep. Son 1 and Best Friend were waiting at the top of the cliff. “We were worried mad about you Mummy, we couldn’t see you anywhere,” said Son 1. What he meant was he’d eaten his lunch and I’d told him he could have an ice cream afterwards.  So he and his posse of friends were waiting. He chose bubble gum flavoured ice cream, which until today I had no idea existed. 

And then I got changed and went Swimming In The Sea. Best Friend and I played a game getting in. “You’re winning, because you’re in up to your tummy and I haven’t got my bottom in yet.” “Oh Lordy, lummy, lummy, Lordy… look at you up to your chest and I haven’t got my tummy in.” Then he was chin high and I realised he would drown if I swam off, but another Wednesday Mum had spotted the problem and stayed to keep guard.  Swimming In The Sea is fab.  If you never have or simply don’t… then just Get In There.  There is something we-all-flippered-our-way-out-of-the-swamp about it.  I swam out for about 100m in an emerald, pond-flat sea and nothing mattered and everything made sense.  I swam back and the reflections of the buildings on the cliff top were almost still in the water.   Son 1 sat, as he always does, at the water’s edge, watching anxiously.  I’ll just do another 20 minutes, I thought, till I saw Son 2 up with a Wednesday Mum, staring out to sea.

1.  Pool

2   Party 

3.  Playtime

Bloody paddling pool. When I got to bed, well after 12 last night, I thought “At least we can have a lie in tomorrow.”  0615.  Son 2 aged 19m wailing.  I ignored him.  He quietened.  A face appeared in mine. “Son 2’s awake.” “No-he-isn’t.-He-went-backtosleep.” Brightly: “Can we get up so I can look at that paddling pool?”  Son 1 aged 4y 7m and Son 2 pulled it out.  The box is size of a chessboard.  The deflated, folded-up pool is size of a parachute.    The Baby Was Born and could not be shoved back in.  One glance told me I couldn’t blow it up on my own. ”I think we’ll need a pump.  Next Door might have one. We’ll ask when they’re up.”  Son 1, still in his pyjamas, put his shoes on. ”I’ll go and see Next Door.” It wasn’t yet 7am. I blew a couple of inflatable toys up and they played with them.  “When can we put water in it?” “At Nanna’s.  Although you might not be able to go outside when we get there.   The forecast is for very heavy rain.”  “I don’t mind the rain,” said Son 1.

We went to a Nursery Fancy Dress party.  I had a good time and I think the children enjoyed themselves.  Son 1, who’s serene and unselfconscious about fancy dress and wanders round in pirate or Power Ranger gear when there is no occasion at all, refused to wear any of his costumes.  I didn’t question it.   A children’s entertainer, balloons and many many children.  The entertainer had apparently been doing children’s parties for 20 years.  Son 1 and Son 2 sat in for Pass The Parcel.  Son 2 got a lolly.  I could almost hear his brand-new teeth dissolving in the sugar as he crunched.  Their lunch consisted of:  the chocolate icing off the top of several fairy cakes, a chocolate biscuit.  Some iced biscuit rings.  Orange squash.   A dentist mother told me one day wouldn’t hurt, it was when it was spread over many many days that the damage happened.  I spoke to another mother who, it transpired, lives within a mile of us in The Town.   And she has A Girl!  Son 1’s new best friend,  I instantly decided.  As we walked back to the car: “Guess what, Son 1?  X lives very near to us!” “I don’t like X.”  “You probably don’t know her very well.  You can invite her to the house to get to know her better.”  “She’s not my friend.”  “Not yet, but - ” “I don’t like her.” “Why not?” “She’s a Gal.”

We got to Nanna’s via a Wednesday Friend to pick up their electric  pump. I stood outside Nanna’s house in the Arctic wind and lashing rain, pumping up the paddling pool from the cigarette lighter. Son 1 was beside himself with excitement.  They both went outside with it, we added water and stood back.  The sky was black with great heavy clouds rolling across without a break. It was very cold, very wet and very windy.  Son 2 burst into shivering tears and I took him inside.  Nanna had prepare a tea which was waiting in the kitchen.  Son 2 just pointed at it all and demanded to eat.  In the end we moved tea early, and they went back in the paddling pool after.  And then real, heavy, horrible rain came in. “Rain,” said Son 2, as it hammered against the windows. ”Rain.  Rain. Rain.”  After they’d gone to sleep I had to go out to the car in a cold monsoon and gather up the damp, half-deflated paddling pool, and a couple of bags I’d left.  within two trips I was soaked and freezing.  “Rain,” I thought. “Rain, rain, rain.”