Sunday, November 06, 2011

Warm enough, masks and mash.

1. I put my hand into the push chair footmuff -- again -- to check that Alec's little legs are warm enough. It's toasty down there, and he laughs because he thinks I'm being very silly.

2. We are stopped in the park by two masked 12-year-olds (one balaclava, one Guy Fawkes). "Did you know Scientology is scam?" Yes, we did, thank you.

3. I put a spoonful of mashed potato and squash down on the highchair tray. Alec lets out a joyful squeal and slaps it with both hands until it is flat enough for his liking. Then he eats it in fistfuls.

Light reading, pie and leaky milk.

1. In the small hours, oppressed by the dark and by thoughts of what is to come, I am profoundly grateful to all authors of lightweight fict...