1. To discover that there is no need to spend £30 on a new pair of shoes for Alec: the old ones still fit.
2. It's much earlier than I thought -- I've been running the day on the oven clock, which has been tinksed. I feel a bit deflated, because it's not teatime, and I've run out of amusements. It's also raining, and the air is dingy and wet. In the end I drape a quilt over three chairs in the nursery. It plays surprisingly well: I crawl inside and relax in the dim quilty dark while Alec comes in, and goes out again... and comes in again, and goes out again.
3. I've been running up and downstairs all evening because Alec is unsettled with a cold. It's now after 10pm, and I'm racing to deal with the day's emails, and blog and plan food for the weekend. He whimpers again and I can't do it. "Just five more minutes," I mutter. I hear Nick go up, and tune out. The strains of Twinkle Twinkle and the occasional "toot-toot" let me know that my presence is not required.
