Whiny voice, compost and imperious.

1. We are not happy this morning: Alec is whining about his breakfast and I am wasting fruit trying to make a smoothie with an unco-operative blender. 'Stop whining and talk properly,' I tell him, 'I can't understand you.' I've never pulled him up for whining before because he does it so rarely, and I didn't imagine he would obey. I was voicing my own frustration more than anything.

'More crackle pops,' he says in his usual darling voice. 'And more milk in the cup. Tsorry. I was talking in a naughty voice.' 

I abandon the smoothie and sit beside Alec at the table -- whining, I think, is a last resort to get my attention, and being with him is much more amenable than fighting a kitchen appliance.

2. Of all the things that my garden produces, I am most satisfied (today anyway) by the compost. There's so much of it. Instead of husbanding it meanly as I used to with the bought stuff, I am constantly topping up containers and looking for excuses to pot things on that don't really need it. It is a bit weed seedy though -- but even this has an upside because sometimes a pleasant surprise germinates.

3. I am now so large and bumpy that I can be imperious and call Nick from the other room to do menial tasks for me: 'Bring this up from the cellar!' 'Pick up that!' 'Get the laundry off the bottom of the airer!'