Saturday, February 08, 2014

Motor skills, all mine and big boy trousers.

1. To my astonishment he takes a couple of pens and draws recognisable eyes and a splendid, terrifying set of teeth.

2. "She is just for me," says Alec about the hairdresser who has a tractor chair.

3. I have sold these trousers rather too well: "They are moa hunting trousers. They have pockets for carrying your chalk and your phone and your camera and your notebook and for putting evidence in... no, not poo, unless you put it in a box." They are too big and he keeps stumbling on the cuffs. The fabric is so tough that he cannot climb on to the bed. But he is determined to wear them. Determined. They end up round his ankles in the middle of Calverley Road. He giggles about it for the rest of the day.

4. To escape into the night and talk with adults at a party. Particularly to talk with adults who don't have small children and who talk about the world outside.

Bud vase, tomato and the poem I needed to hear.

1. Among the faded cut daffodils that I'm putting on the compost heap there is one that will do for another day in a bud vase. 2. For th...