It's been a funny old week 10 days whatever

. . . and I'm still waiting for the bit where I get to sit down with my feet up.

Sid's party was a hoot. Normally, for a party at home, I draw the line at seven guests, on account of I can sit eight people in comfort round the dining room table for a Proper Meal. But this time even I didn't honestly see how she could manage with any less than fourteen, and even that was risking pariahood (pariah-hood? Pariahness? Pariah-esqueness?) I got pointed at Asda for all the party stuff, I engaged the services of the lovely Elaine, we had an alphabetical treasure hunt, musical statues, sausages and mash and some concert-level shrieking, and my baby girl was five years old.

Then it was my turn. Breakfast in a cafe with my friend Anisa, which meant coffee, Danish and YAKKING until noon. Bliss. Ma cooked supper, yum, and Jeremy gave me a BEAUTIFUL box of 30 Caran d'Ache crayons. Not for using, mind you. Just for looking at. And maybe the occasional sniff.