1.  Leading Light

2.  Glaring Error

3.  Sparking Interest

Ring the bells and light the beacons, we have found a breakfast cereal Son 1 aged 5y 3m likes. Sugar Puffs.   One dry puff at a time of course, and each one to be entirely finished before the next one goes in. But he finished a bowlful.   Son 1 was up early, I had to wake Son 2 aged 2y 4m in his cot.  A mad Single Mother dash to get out of the house on time, which meant I hardly saw Son 2. “Son 2! I’m going to work now!” “Bye Mummy,” he said, without turning round from CBeebies.  We kind of got Son 1 to School on time. Kinda sorta almost. We walked in as all the other children were sitting cross legged on the floor, the class list  was up on the Whiteboard and Mrs Smiley needed Son 1 to Fetch The Register.  Buglit. Forgot he was Line Leader today. I could have crowbarred him out of the House a bit quicker if I’d've remembered. 

I was supposed to pick him up promptly so I could get back and let Wonder Nanny go on time. A phone call overran, and yet again I was late late late. I still parked up the Muddy Path - I had promised Son 1 that morning - and we walked back to the car jousting with windfallen sticks.  “I need a wee,” he said, after I’d buckled him in and he’d started on his sandwiches.  “Well go behind a tree. I’ll find you some handgel. And hurry! We’re already late for Wonder Nanny.”  I hunted in the door pockets for the handgel, and stood up when I’d found it. Son 1, his trousers and pants at his ankles, was weeing against a tree next to the road, his body profiled and bright white in the headlights of cars turning into School. “Oh Son 1, you could have picked a tree further in!” I bellowed. I stood between him and the road to shield him from the cars. A shadowy figure hurried up the Muddy Path towards us. “Well that tree’s going to flourish now, isn’t it?” It was Mrs Smiley.   

Bathtime, and Son 1 was shattered. Needy, attention-seeking and unable to keep quiet for a second. Son 2 was gorgeous. “I lub Mummy,” he said, his soft and squodgy arms round my neck, his perfect little mouth pecking kisses on my cheek.  He just wanted to hold and be held.  “I wan’ cuddle.” Both missing their father. (I’ve put that in for the benefit of any readers abroad…)   ”I don’t want Wonder Nanny to look after us tomorrow,” said Son 1.  “It’s just for a while so I can go to the School.  Mrs Smiley and Mrs Briskly-Pleasant are going to talk to the Mummies and Daddies about learning to read. They say some little boys can get very upset if they make mistakes and feel terrible inside and they’re going to tell us what to do if that happens.” “That;s what happens to me,” said Son 1, sadly.  We’d had a car conversation this morning about cavemen living now, and I’d told him about Stig Of The Dump.  I tried reading my old 1973 edition to him after Son 2 went to sleep. He stayed with the plot for the Snarget encounter, but then yawned “It’s too old for me.” I might try and find him one with more pictures. And maybe not so many Woodbines.

1  Fancy Footwork

2  Nothing Fancy

3  French Fancies

Another day of mad rushing.  The boys stayed in their own beds overnight. Hooray.  And Ho Hum. I am sure Son 1 aged 5y 2m wakes because he’s cold, and troops upstairs.  He’s under a 3.5 tog quilt. Which he’s always kicking off.  I tucked Nanna’s Boston Trip Pirate Quilt around him last night.  Tra la la.  Son 2 aged 2y 3m called to me as I tried to tiptoe downstairs for a solitary pot of coffee. He had his breakfast, I had mine, we read stories. “Wassat?” pointing to the pile of wrapped presents on top of the dishwasher box ice cream house.  Wonder Nanny’s birthday presents. ‘Then: “Where my Son Son?” “Still in bed. I’m going to get him up in a minute.”  “I wan’ see if Son Son orl right.” Up we went. Into their bedroom toddled Son 2 in the dark: “Son Son, are you orl right?” Son 1 burrowed deeper under his quilts. Son 2, cold in his overwashed, handmedown thin flannel pyjamas climbed up and burrowed in after him. Son 1 squealed, presumably at the first contact of fat frozen foot on snug lanky leg.  

Downstairs, Son 1 carefully wrote out the birthday card. Which was a great relief. He’s been rabidly anti Wonder Nanny for the last few weeks, sitting in the back seat on the way to School telling me how much he doesn’t like her. Not going to make her a card, not going to choose a cake for her, not going to sing her Happy Birthday. I’ve tried all manner of techniques, gentle probing, careful explaining, patient listening, devoted understanding of the transference of his anger at my absences on to the substitute carer. And now I just say “Whatever.” It’s true. They do keep you young. Although I think we used to say “So?” instead. 

Wonder Nanny arrived and there was mass present unwrapping. She didn’t do any of it.  We sang Happy Birthday.  We made ourselves unspeakably late for School.  Being positive, the traffic wasn’t too bad. But his class were still all sitting down ready for assembly by the time we got in. When I picked him up this evening  I was given his school report. It took me ages to pluck up the nerve to look, in case there was a mention of Mummy’s appalling timekeeping.   We had a crisis because I’d promised Son 1 that we’d go to the supermarket to choose a cake for Wonder Nanny’s birthday tea.  But of course I got to School too late - we had to hare back to get home before her finishing time.  Son 1 cried, but was mollified by a Frosty French Fancy from some party shopping I had managed to do. ”Can I have another one with the other pattern?” he asked hopefully.  I let him. When we got home, we discovered that French Fancies are Wonder Nanny’s favourite cake ever.   She is a Goddess.  We sent her home, and I tried to get the boys to bed. Son 2 went up the stairs ahead of me, and in the dark, stubbed his toe so hard it bled. He cried. We cuddled. He noticed someone hadn’t come running. ” I wan’ Son Son kiss me feel me better.”   I’d almost got them to bed when The Man came home.

1.  Days

2.  Blessings

3.  Calories

Mad. Busy. Busy. Mad.  Son 1 aged 5y 2m is sick with longing for Christmas. I am sick with desperation.  Between now and Christmas, there is Wonder Nanny’s birthday, Elegant Aunt’s Big Birthday, Godfather 2’s birthday, and a Wednesday Friend’s 4th birthday. And I need a card and present for Golfmad Uncle.  Whose end-of-November birthday we missed. We’re seeing them next weekend.  So we also need Christmas presents for Golfmad Uncle, Elegant Aunt, Granny and Granddad by Friday.   And a birthday tea for Wonder Nanny on Tuesday. And then Christmas presents for Nanna, Elder Sister, Elder Brother, Sister In Law, Teenaged Niece and Teenage Nephew, Younger Sister and Godfather 2 by the time Nanna leaves for her Christmas Visiting. But. Being positive. Perhaps The Man has already sorted it all out. I have bought presents for the boys. And I have bought cards for Wonder Nanny. No idea where they are though.

I had Son 1in with me when I was woken by a crying Son 2 aged 2y 3m. The Man liberated him from his cot, and he came trailing upstairs. “Mummy back from party.” We started slowly, the boys watching telly, The Man out in the garden because it wasn’t raining, and me doing everything else.  A phone call. A colleague’s teenager has been taken suddenly and dreadfully ill and is now facing paralysis. Yesterday morning their life was normal. And now it’s shattered.  Two weeks before Christmas. In my thoughts all day, and I’ve only got as far as resolving again to Stop Shouting At My Children. 

We went to the library, where Son 1 quickly piled up about 15 hard back books on The Big Pram. And then he found the Christmas Books. Son 2 pulled out paperbacks, DVDs, cushions, leaflets - anything at tot level. Then he noticed the book shelves were shaped like ladders and up he went. I took them home for lunch, Son 2 howling because he wanted a Paper Bag Pie from the Baker’s.  Then Best Friend came round. Son 1 wanted to whoop and hop and run round in excitement. Best Friend wanted to get his toys out and start playing. Son 2 wanted to trash everything the elder boys did. I tried to get him to sleep; he shrieked loudly enough to bubble the paintwork. He was exhausted, but wouldn’t sleep. At 4pm when I had bread and butter to make up for skipping lunch, he had… er… four slices.   Might have been hungry too. Best Friend was a beautifully-behaved joy. He and Son 1 played together for an hour, then I took Son 2 in, thinking I’d let him sit on my lap to watch telly so he could get some quite time. He chose a Baby Einstein DVD about animals, way too young even for him. He was glued to it. As were Son 1 and Best Friend.  Children Are Strange.

1.  Looking

2.  Listening

3.  Learning

Hell fire it was hard this morning.  Son 1aged 5y 1m has needed navy blue swimming trunks since term started.  Here we are after our three week half term, with his baggy white Monsoon shorts still damp and packed somewhere in the suitcases.  I was in Asda at 9pm last night pushing a trolley round George looking for trunks. I asked an assistant. They are, apparently, seasonal items. They come in to the store in Spring and go in the Sale in July. And that’s it.  My fallback plan was a pair of  navy and red Aged 3 swimming boxers I’d found in a bag of hand-me-downs before we went away.  But what had I done with them.  Wonder Nanny had also been sorting clothes. She’d taken my random pile and put the clothing away in the most logical place. Which was where I found them.  This was a Good Thing.  Son 2 aged 2y 1m cried and clung, but Son 1 got to School and I got to The Office on time. 

At The Office a colleague had done something so Useful and Important for me that my first morning  back was a breeze. I took her out to lunch to say thank you, blasting holes in my Holiday Resolutions of watching my spending and my eating.  I managed to offload a great pile of Nachos on to her plate in revenge.  In the afternoon, the contrasts.  The Man rang. Son 2’s Godfather is gravely ill again. And then I had a long conversation with someone I know whose young daughter, nearly three, is terminally ill.  “We never recorded her voice while she could still speak,” he said.  Wonder Nanny, who is very qualified, very competent and very caring, took Son 2 round to play there about a month ago. The father felt it was a success, so I’ll ask her to go again.  There is something very crap about the Mother who sends her Nanny round to help the desperate family.  But I just don’t know what to do. 

I picked Son 1 up in the closing minutes of After School Club.  He had his school photos, which are gorgeous.  At home, I just wanted to cut out pictures of my two gorgeous children and put them in their little cardboard frames, ready to send to Grandparents and Aunties.  The real-life versions of the two gorgeous children scrapped and screeched and shrieked for my attention.  Which they got. Words from earlier floated back:  “Her span is only going to be short so we’re trying to make sure it’s the best life possible.”  I will be less snappy with my children.

1.  Fed And Watered

2.  The Breezes And The Sunshine

3.  Soft, Refreshing Rain

Son 1 aged 5 and I arrived at School. It’s Harvest Festival Day.  His class, all dressed as scarecrows, is singing a song. Son 1 will pop up wearing a straw hat. I said I would try and get there. And was then told the time.  2pm.  No bloody chance.  “Are lots of parents coming?” I asked Mrs Smiley. She smiled, as she always does. “Oh yes. There’ll be a very good turn out.”  Outside the school, I rang Nanna, and Wonder Nanny. They can go. “Have we got to take something?” asked Nanna. “I’ve got strawberries.” Nope. I sent in a bag of groceries earlier in the week. I hunted high and low in the cupboards. I found two tins of Lite Evaporated Milk which were Best Before Apr 2005… and a tinned Fray Bentos steak and kidney pie so old it didn’t have a sellby date. I looked for things I wouldn’t use.  But deducing that someone getting a School food parcel would not feel too grateful for Chestnut Puree and Aubergine Pesto, I put tea, coffee, tuna, baked beans, soup and tinned tomatoes in a bag instead.  

Not the easiest day I’ve had at The Office, mainly because I did 16 hours yesterday and I’m knackered. Halfway through I remembed a snag in the Harvest Festival plan. I’d promised Son 1 an after-school trip to Tesco.  Last night Son 2 aged 2y 1m had done some blackbelt tantrumming because I wasn’t there… and Son 1 had behaved beautifully.  Plus he’s managed to get up for School for more than 6 weeks. I rang Wonder Nanny. Can they take him to Tesco as well if he wants to go.

When I got back home Son 1 was throwing small plastic balls which transform into aliens around. Son 2 was sitting in his highchair eating strawberries and sweets, giggling. ”I wan’ si’ on Mummy’s lap.”  It was late, so we rounded the up for Books And Bath And Bed.  Maybe The Man was making up the behaviour last night. Could this shiny-cheeked cherub with dancing eyes, sitting in the shower, laughing and splashing Mummy, possibly be the roaring banshee who was put to bed without a bath, without teeth cleaning, and without anything?  Teenaged Niece bought the boys new pyjamas. Son 1 was dashing in bright red Lightning McQueen, Son 2 in oversized bright green Buzz Lightyear. Another Good Thing: Son 2 seems to be getting a bit bigger.  If it carries on he may even get into 12- 18m trousers…

1.  Harvesting

2.  Irrigation

3.  Threshing

Nanna’s garden is blue-marbled with slug pellets. Son 2 aged 23m picks up big handfuls and puts them in his mouth, along with the melted-insides of dead snails.  So we can’t use slug pellets in our garden.  We have six sunflowers, getting bigger, The Man’s now so tall that we can only look at the flowerhead from the upstairs window. We have two tubs planted with peas.  We have some organic slug repellent gel. You pour it around the plants and it’s supposed to make barrier. It looks like dying slug trail, which is probably how it works.  We put it round the pea plants when they first sprouted, and then we couldn’t find it any more.  The slugs ate all the peas in one tub. And Son 1 aged 4y 11m, and Son 2 and I caught a snail laying eggs in our other one.  But this morning Son 1 yelled “Mummy, mummy, come and see! We’ve got peas!” We did indeed. Little pea cases.  Son 1 gobbled one, Son 2 gobbled one. We had six altogether, which they ate instantly.  Son 1 found the case of one a bit fibrous and spat it into the ice cream tub in which we’d put three tiny snails we’d caught on the plants. “They can eat it.”  We were so excited we thought we’d plant some more. And then decided to plant a pumpkin for Hallowe’en instead.  Vegetarian depressive Mummy always has pumpkin seeds. We hunted through the cupboards. Mummy had pine kernels, sunflower seeds and sesame seeds. ”Shall we grow a sesame?” I asked Wonder Nanny.

We planned to go for a swim, then come back and make fairy cakes after lunch.  Wonder Nanny’s mobile went. It was a Wednesday Mum, ringing her to arrange to meet with the children, so Son 1 could play with Best Friend. Wonderful Moments For Working Mothers, #149: When Your Friend Rings Your Nanny Because They’ve Both Forgotten You’d Be There.  We changed the plans. We would meet at The Beach Near The Garden.  It was sunny, warm-ish with a gusty wind and some clouds.  Son 2 and I walked down to the water’s edge, filled a bucket with water, walked back, and he emptied it. Many times.  Son 1 was over-excited and horrible.  The new fishing net was broken.  I left Wonder Nanny in charge and went Swimming In The Sea.  I have a new way of getting in. I walk a hundred paces without stopping.  Shoulders down, swim forward and cold, cold, cold.  I felt my rings loosen on my fingers.  The sea was flat, the beach was sandy, the water was turquoise and every now and then the sun broke through and warmed my face.  Son 1 stood on the shoreline, staring out after me.  I went back. Another family arrived to sit with us, Mother, Father and their three children.  Lunch, more play, splashing and digging in the low tide.  The Navy helicoptered by, low and loud. Play stopped, while the children waved. They waved back. ”Mummy, we got a wave!” bounced Son 1.   

Best Friend, Little Brother and Wednesday Mum left. I went for another swim.  The children made sandcastles.  Son 2 was hanging with tiredness when i got back. “Ah wanna bik bik.” The other mother was handing out iced rings.  ”Would you like one, Son 2?” “Es please.” Beautiful manners.  Gets them from his mother.  We packed up. “Son 1, where are your shoes?”  He looked blank. Wonder Nanny hadn’t seen them.  “Did you take them off in the jungle?” In the Garden, where he’d run off playing with Best Friend when we first arrived.  Yes he did.  In  vast mounds of elephant grass, the dried straw had poked his feet through his sandals. So he’d taken them off. I hunted through every bloody clump.  Gone.  There was no fairy cake making when we got home, although Son 2 got an ice pop.

1.  Lies

2.  Damn Lies

3.  Statistics

Last night I worked late and went to bed very late.   Well towards 1am, I tiptoed upstairs, weightless, soundless, I did not breathe.  The Man rolled over, grumbled and switched off the telly.   I took out my contact lenses.  I peered behind me.  Son 1 had teleported in,  lurching round like a drunk. The Man was in the Big Bed, he wanted to lie down, but “Where’s Mummy?” “In the bathroom.”  Son 1 was still bothered by The Man in the Big Bed.  “When you’re not here, if I wake him up when I come to bed, he settles down in your side watching me while I take off my make up and do my teeth, and then I have a little read in bed, and then we both go to sleep.”  The Man harrumphed and  trogged off to the Blue Room.  Yes yes I know that Son 1 will one day be off with She Who Will Never Be Good Enough For Him and I should be Putting My Eggs In The Man’s Basket (this is going badly wrong) but what the hell. It was the way Son 1 just stood patiently at the bedside waiting for his space to become available… 

So this morning I was matchsticks-under-the-eyelids. Another oh God look at the state of the boys, never mind, Wonder Nanny can do it when she gets here, bye, sesh.  I am doing better though on reading to Son 2.  We did our five books.  Pinocchio, for God’s sake. He insisted.  This is Son 1’s library book, the Disney series that everyone has at least 1 of, somewhere.  I should be reading stuff that is Rooted In Reality.  About washing machines and buggies and looking at leaves.  So. Son 2. Gepetto makes this toy, and the only woman in the story, winged, badly drawn, wearing a pillow case,  makes it come alive, and it goes shopping and gets mugged - twice -  and then gets caged, whereupon Gepetto rescues it and they all live happily ever after.  Son 2 couldn’t give a hoot, and wanted it twice. He’s only really looking at the pictures of the nose getting bigger. “Wee wee,” he said, at the end.  I went all the way downstairs to get his potty. He rejected it, sat on Son 1’s old booster seat, and wee-d in the loo. PSB. “Bye bye Mummy,” he said, as I went off to The Office. 

At bedtime, Son 1 gets the book time. We took out 17 from the library, some for Son 2, but most chosen by him. ”Improving your fishing,” has been a bit of a challenge.  I always put at least one book about another country or culture in the pile. ”And the liberal, with a small ‘l’, cries in front of the TV,” sang Billy Bragg when I was Young. ”Coming Home” went in on the strength of a cover drawing of a black woman in a hijab with a small boy. Oh-Good-Islam-Portrayal-Not-Arab-We’ll-Have-It was the quarter second attention it got as I tossed it in.  Hassan is a Somalian refugee.  Son 1 and I have done Somalia, in answer to the “Mummy, are there any pirates now?” question. “There are some very poor people from a very poor country run by bullies and they steal other people’s boats and ships because they Have Nothing.” “What happens to them?” “President Obama (Most Powerful Man In The World.  In answer to: “Who’s that man on your book?”) sent a big ship and told them to stop. Now darling, let’s clear out Son 2’s old toys and take them to Oxfam.”   Hassan’s Uncle is killed by soldiers who burn his house down. Son 1 wanted it twice. ”Is his Uncle dead?” “What happened to the animals?” “Where are his cousins?” “Will it happen here?”  At this point my inner Nanna broke through and I couldn’t resist. “No. Because we are one of the richest countries in the world, and you are such a lucky little boy, and that is why Daddy and I get cross when you don’t realise - ” Son 1 burst into tears. “I’m scared of the soldiers.”  Gepetto was a woodcarver, I said, and one day he made a puppet. 

1.  A Thousand Cuts

2.  Thanks A Thousand

3.  A Thousand Times

Son 2 aged 22m didn’t wake up screaming till 0615.  This is a Good Thing. Lately it’s been unremitting before 0530.  The Man has tried.  I’ve just left him, his screams not quite drowned out by the klaxon of my guilt. I wonder what’s wrong. Wonder Nanny says he’s the same when he wakes up from his daytime naps. I wouldn’t know. He never sleeps in the daytime when he’s with me. Which all leads me to the Pang Pang Pang conclusion that he needs to see me more. Oh Lord.   At least we have Wonder Nanny so he doesn’t have to go to Nursery.  He stood at the door and cried after she left tonight. Pang Pang Pang.    

Cheer Up, Said George.  (Son 2 and I are doing The Smartest Giant In Town at the moment.)  The Man has taken some time off.  This is cause for the firing of cannons and a public holiday.  I have tried pointing out that even Junior Doctors are barred by law from working more than 48 hours a week but for some reason he thinks he’s exempt from the Working Time Directive.   And the boys’ Elegant Aunt has offered us her timeshare week. Hoorah hoorah.

I tried to get home from work a bit early to see a little more of Son 1 aged 4y 10m and Son 2.  Didn’t work.  When I cuddled Son 2, Son 1 went mad with jealousy, and relentlessly tried to bash him off me or force his way between us. When I cuddled Son 1, Son 2 let out intolerable ear-splitting shrieks and I ended up dumping him in his cot.  I left him there for five minutes, and then went back up. He was standing, in his dungarees, cute as a kitten, in the corner of his cot.   A big smile. “Mummeeeee!” “Are you going to stop shrieking?” “Yesssssssssssssss.”  And he made it till bedtime without a single screech.  And then, after I’d laid Son 1 down in his bed and closed their bedroom door, their day ended as it began. “MUMMMMEEEEEEE! MUMMMMEEEEE!!!!”

1.  ”A” Roads

2.  Ring Roads

3.  Country Roads

 I didn’t see the boys today. Left for the Great Big City at 6am, just got back.  Lordy lordy.  So. Being positive. I got out of the house without waking either Son 1 aged 4y 10m or Son 2 aged 22m.  The Great Big City is a place I spent a lot of time BC. But The Office’s er… office…  has moved since those days, and I had no idea where I was going.  Enter The Man’s Sat Nav.  I put up with the cloying female voice telling me directing me along roads I know upside down and back to front. I stopped for coffee after three hours on the road. I switched it back on for directions into The Great Big City.  She had stopped talking. 

I’d put the postcode of the new Office in… and round and round I went.  Baffled, bored and a bit intimidated - don’t box junctions mean the same in Big Cities as they do in The Country? - I stopped and asked a post lady.  ”Just double back on yourself and you can’t miss it,” she said.  Oh yes I could. The Sat Nav kept re-calculating every time I took a turn it didn’t like.  And then, half an hour later, I found it, and trailed in, triumphant.

Six hours later, I set off for the drive back.  Jaysus we really do live miles from the rest of you.  It was a long haul, but at least it didn’t rain - big skies though, with big grey Turner-like clouds billowing up and up into the heavens.  I listened to the radio, and admired the glowing green of the countryside.  A sure sign it’s been p***ing it down for days.  the Parking Fairy gave me a space outside the house. The Man poured me a large glass of Sauvignon Blanc. Wonder Nanny’s notebook says Son 2 wasn’t feeling well today.  Missing his Mummy, I bet.

1.  Roast Beef

2.  Short Sharp Shock

3.  Red Red Wine

One of my mad, over-scheduled days. Son 1 aged 4y 9m, Son 2 aged 21m, Wonder Nanny and I were heading up to the Fun Park… and then we were having six friends round for dinner.  Tra la la.  I went for a run while the boys had breakfast.  We left before 11, stopping off at The Farm Shop to get the meat - a sirloin joint. ( I am an idle vegetarian cook.  Take one slab of good meat, put in oven for one hour plus, bingo, guests grateful and impressed.)  Son 2 was asleep, Son 1 wanted to get out. A peacock was parading its tail, so we let him. 

We got to the Fun Park in time for lunch. Both boys picked, but ate mighty pieces of cake. Soft Play Zone, then Scooby Doo house. Then a horse show in the rain.  The Fun Park train stood waiting in front of us as it finished, with the rain lashing down. We got in it. In the seats behind us was a family - very young dad, three year old ish boy, seven year old ish boy, young mum, very new (13 weeks) baby.  We chatted. Son 1 and Son 2 blagged cake from them.  Then the three year old boy bit the dad and the dad slapped him, hard and loud. The boy wailed.  ”Don’t bite me. Give us a kiss. I love you,” said the dad. ”What did he just do to that boy?” asked Son 1.  It was sudden, it was shocking, it was sickening.  I don’t think it was legal.  And the only thing I did was Stop Talking To Them.

We got back home at about 5, and The Man had manoeuvred a whopping sheet of plywood out of his shed and down into the kitchen-diner.  Son 1 looked at it. “Will there be crackers?” Which tells you when we last did a dinner party. http://mumsnet.com/blogs/serenedays/2008/12/30/whales-and-snails/  We got the boys to bed “You can come down once.  If you come down once, you get a pirate book tomorrow. If you come down more than once, there will be no book. That’s the deal.”  Couple One arrived while I was down at the shops getting horse radish.  It has been so long since we did dinner that I timed the main course and the starter to be ready at the same time. Ar.  Didn’t matter. Clever menu.  Prawns, then Beef, new potatoes  and salads.  I had sun dried tomatoes and salads.  Couple Two arrived, then Couple Three, bringing an iPod with an Eighties Mix on it. We spent a happy evening guessing the songs.  We had a great time. Apart from me putting two bottles of red wine in the freezer.