133. Phew.

Another 6:20?

I awoke yesterday morning, unfeasibly early, to the sound of Kit throwing up. No, let my rephrase that. To my shame, I was awoken (yesterday morning, unfeasibly early) by the sound of Beri, yelling at me, 'MUM! KIT'S THROWING UP!' Urggh - what a way to start the day.

As there has already been judging (you know who you are!) I may as well hang for a sheep - my first thought was, '6:20am! Haven't seen one of those in a while, and yes, it's still horrible' and my second was, 'If Kit stays home all day, how the heck do I sneak in my afternoon nap?'. 'Poor Kit' came a very late third.

But hang on, thought I, The Boy is part-owner of a strictly-reserved-for-weekends Nintendo DS Lite Gameboy. If I give him that, then he won't notice me sparked out on the sofa. He wouldn't notice if the sky fell on his head. An earthquake? The lights going out all over Europe? The four horsemen of the Apocalypse? Nah. His battery running out? Hell yeah. But that's what chargers are for. I napped, he stepped closer to RSI and permanently damaged thumb muscles, and we were both happy.

He's better now, and I bought him a book - Louis Sachar's Small Steps. I am a great admirer of Holes, and Kit really enjoys the Wayside School books. He's been reading it for about 20 minutes, and so far he's asked me what 'marijuana', 'cerebral palsy' and 'leukaemia' mean.

Urghh.

I'd Have Made the Effort, But I Couldn't Be Bothered

You know the fuss everyone makes every year about how early the shops put up their Christmas decorations, how it's all just an exercise in crass commercialism, it's still October* for Pete's sake, yadda yadda yadda? Well today I was in a meeting about how much to charge for Shrove Tuesday pancakes. That's the 24th of FEBRUARY. For Pete's sake.

Christmas is in half swing at John Lewis. They aren't piping Christmas carols over the PA, and they don't yet have a real live reindeer parked outside the entrance (like last year. I kid you not.) but the Christmas Crap is piled in glitteringly inviting heaps all over the shop. Mind, I did rather like the chocolate Christmas trees, and the gingerbread forts. Well, houses are so last year. I'll take pictures next time I'm there. (It's John Lewis. Of course it won't be long.) This time, the excuse for a visit was a clapped out breadmaker, and now I have a shiny new one. I have to put the ingredients in upside down, it can't be opened fully while standing on a work surface because it's so tall, and the Automatic Yummy Bits Dispenser operates with a sound like a small pistol shot, but I STILL LOVE IT. Sorry, some inadvertent Caps Lock onnage there, but its true. I DO.

And a lurrvly new Salter 1051. It's so black, light just falls into it.

*I know. Really I do. But they were up in October, yes they were.

Vesper is the new Smurf

Ah yes, Germany. My abiding memories? Giraffes and tigers in Munich Zoo, the omnipresent scent of Kaffee mit Kuchen, the comfortable elegance of our lovely old hotel, sunset over the Starnbergersee, catching up with lovely family and the children's four-hourly meltdowns over mealtimes. Gah. Food that was close enough, but not close enough. Sausages? Pizza? Even, heaven help us, fish fingers in a Greek restaurant? Not like we have at home, so instead of eating I'll just scream, thanks all the same.

Home again, and the loveliness of visitors and excursions and NO LUNCHBOXES brought to a brutally abrupt end by the re-start of term. Gah again.

Beri's had an intermittently ghastly couple of days. Wednesday suppertime was supposed to include Jonathon and Cole. Cole, new to the country as well as to the school, I invited in spite of B's STRENUOUS objections, because I felt it was neighbourly. This pill was only sweetened by the proposed presence of Jonathon, one of B's best mates. Well, Best Mate's ma cancelled late Tuesday, and I chose to tell my poor son in the microsecond between his BIG head-on collision with Oliver (MAJOR ouchies), and the school bell ringing, that Jonathon couldn't come, but Cole still would. (In the event, it all went kind of OK - Cole spent a lot of time playing with Sid, who kept calling him 'Coral'.) And then today I forgot him in the playground, and was halfway home before I realised he wasn't there. Actually, someone else had to point this out to me. Cue hasty retrace of footsteps and a big hug for a small boy rather whiter and shakier than I found comfortable. (And a big slap on the wrist for writing about this before telling Jeremy.)

And tonight we enjoyed Quantum of Solace - not much dialogue, crazily inventive shoot-'em-ups, and an afterthought of a plot. Luckily Jeremy summed it all up with pinpoint accuracy.

'So, Vesper is the new Smurf, then.'