Yesterday was just one of those days.

The Husband has been away all week.  In Turkey. 34 degress. Sigh. We’ve started wearing gloves again in London. He’d got up at 4.30 am Monday morning to catch his flight. And I’m generally OK with early mornings except the night after that Bella, my eldest re-developed her night-time cough of old that I’d thought she’d grown out of.  It used to arrive punctually every half term/end of term when she was particularly tired. Just a little cergh, cergh, slightly louder than clearing her throat. But every fourth breathe.  And only at night. Like a subtle variation of chinese water torture except I’m meant to feel sympathetic. I don’t.  By the third night I am ready to commit infanticide. Then last night the dog started barking in tandem.  Foxes in the garden. Demanded her in and locked the dog flap. Came down in morning to a brown present.  Nice. I was feeling sh*t. And now I can. Charlie puts his clothes on inside out. And back to front.  Shouldn’t complain. Packed lunch. Show and Tell. Gym stuff. Find reading book. And £2 for cake stall. No change. Raid the piggy banks and leave I.O.U’s. Again. School Bags. Coats. Snack for choir. Post office slip. Keys. Phone. Purse. Shopping list. 8.00 am Get out the door. It’s hailing.

And legs feeling strange.  Really odd. Like I’m self conscious in my knees.  Ignore it.  Except silly voice keeps piping up..this is how neurological disasters strike..you’re going to fall to bits and then who will look after your children? You’ll never see them win the Noble Peace Prize twice. In a row. And marry royalty. Rich royalty. With yachts. Or be able to snitch to their children all the stories you’ve been storing up..or embarrass them with your really bad dancing ..instead you’ll be a blobby, incontinent wreck because that’s bound to be the first thing to go..Drop Bella off. Run to post office. Pick up package. Run to super market, whizz round with Charlie, trying to stop the world going into the trolley. Jelly zebras? No! Join queue. Get stuff onto belt. It’s closing. Re-trolley stuff.  Wait for new till. Late for nursery. Dash to nursery. Drop him off. Buggy falls over. Run home. Missed a delivery. Head to study. Internet intermittent. Hate that. Work solidly on costings and budget ignoring the chaos. Frozen stuff melts.

Meet Anna. Discuss our launch. Cogitate and brainstorm. Pick him up. Wonder if there’s such thing a a summer scarf it’s so bl**dy cold. Maybe a man’s vintage paisley cravat. Must get one. Or would it be pretentious? Do I care? Run to bank. Legs still funny. Pick her up. Ignore sibling fighting – they love each other really. Chocolate milk. Snacks. Homework. Feed dog. Put on a wash. Start cooking supper with Ipad open on emails – except I’ve resorted to pizza as I keep burning everything else. Can’t think why. Do spellings. Whilst juggling lego figures to keep Charlie amused.  Then I take my own advise and look down..

I have odd shoes on.

Think this is so funny, have to find camera to take a photo.

Smell burnt pizza.

Sandwiches children?

Laters, Kate x