|Remember that purple sprouting broccoli I picked last week? Well this is where it ended up. Nyummies.|
2. While I was pregnant, I often thought longingly of mussels -- that soft orange meat, and the bitter sweet salty seaside taste. A huge fragrant bowl of moules mariniere haunted my dreams; and my hands trembled every time I passed a moules frites blackboard outside a pub. But what with all the excitement, I never got round to eating any after Alec was born. We run into Paul V and Katie. They have saffrony paella. "Have a mussel." Don't mind if I do.
3. Evening is turning into night, and Alec's gums are troubling him. We pack him into the sling and take him round the park, hoping it might settle him. One of the yoga mums is sitting on a bench with a book and a bag of chips. She says that her baby -- she was born on the same day as Alec -- has been grizzling all day, chewing and dribbling and not settling. "I've left my husband in charge for half an hour," she says. We commiserate and say that this too will pass.