Wednesday, April 16, 2014

Nesting, voice and no Marmite.

1. To tempt Alec away from the telly I tip a bag of cushions and blankets out in the nursery. He comes upstairs and makes us play baby birds hatching out from under a table cloth; and then baby dinosaurs.

2. "The man in there," says Alec as we pass Fine Grind, the espresso bar on the High Street. "I like him. I love his voice."

3. Alec looks at my piece of bread and Marmite and tells me confidently that Marmite is bad for his tummy. "It gives me indigetics and makes me swallow up." Luckily for him I wasn't planning to share.