Notes to self

The crucial thing about being badly under the weather for a couple of months before Christmas is that bulbs do not get planted. I hope that, by the time I thought to hire a Portuguese gardener to do the work, it wasn't too late. Remember - Throw Money At It.

Do not on any account buy the new version of Monopoly, the one with the credit cards and the enormous prices. (Shanghai - FOUR MILLION!!) You never know how much money you have, unless you ask the banker to find out. The banker is involved in EVERY SINGLE financial transaction, always with the possibility of pressing the wrong button or putting the wrong card in the slot - great if your group of players includes a compulsive control freak. And the numbers are so big you lose the opportunity for your smallish children to practise mental arithmetic. And the will to live. And the player pieces have too many that look similar, so figuring out who's who is an unnecessary trial.

Send the middle child off with DH for a bonding day, just the two of them, and become aware of how much poorer his absence leaves in the family dynamic. Become embarrassingly aware of the possibility that we might need him rather more than he needs us. (And the fact that the Science Museum was HEAVING, and that their time there was spent queuing, didn't seem to impact his enjoyment of having his father to himself.)

Practise. Kit and I are working on a Carulli duet, and if he isn't better than me now, he will be soon.