Visitor at my window.

Actually, when I sit in my sitting room I don't really have a view. There is a huge and elderly television that cuts out most of the view. Also the angles in the room and outside mean that if I do look out my view would consist of some very overgrown laurels and a corrugated roof. Except, for a while, the window had a visitor. It was a spider!

I am not a huge fan of spiders, but in this case I found it exceptional. There was a spider that had spun a web over our window. Now, had I been as enthusiastic housewife as I should I would have gone out and somehow reached the window (very awkward) and immediately removed the cobweb. Except, well, it was nice seeing the creature. The spider was certainly more domesticated than I, always tidying and patching up the web and I could watch the repair work instead of baby tv, which was a bit of a relief.

Now the web is tattered and crumbs of dead leaves are filling it. I really need to tie a couple of brooms together and do something like tie a duster over one end and get rid of the web. As it is the web remains as a sad reminder that the visitor has left.

Maternal dilemma

I give little bear medised when he has a runny nose. It has paracetamol in and it dries up the green dribbles. It says on the box that it is suitable for 3 months and over. Little bear loves the stuff, and I have to keep it out of his sight, especially as he is getting more adventurous in climbing.

Actually, I think I will amend this to I always used to give little bear medised. You see, this morning I gave little bear medised which I think made me a concerned and caring mother who was upset at her little one struggling to breath and eat and the same time. This afternoon I went to the local chemist. Despite it saying from three months on the box, they have taken advice and are only selling it for children over two. Little bear has around five weeks before he is two. So if I give little bear some medised tonight I am an evil, scheming mother administering noxious substances to my defenceless child for the sake of an easy life.

Poor little bear - it is only really a runny nose but it makes it hard for him to eat and drink. Mind you he doesn't seem to have much interest in food today after the piggery of yesterday. I shall just have to make sure I give him extra cuddles.

EDIT I have just been given links to the official page of Medised and to the thingy that gives national guidelines on medicine, and Medised should not be given to little ones under two! I am really upset and worried about the effect on little bear. I am contacting my health visitor tomorrow.

Little bear and his diet.

Just want it on record.

Little bear, grumpy, green nosed and out of sorts, ate a pear for the first time today. Then he demanded a second one. And raisins, and a banana. He also ate stacks of toast with cream cheese (only topping he will currently tolerate). The finger of fudge, however, was half discarded!

I want to cherish this, for when he is a teenager and allergic to anything with vitamins.

For his meals for tomorrow I feel a little at a loss. He has eaten cream cheese on wheatmeal toast for almost every meal for the last few days, he is so snuffly that I am just trying to give him things that he can eat at his own pace, with plenty of juice. Of course I am getting anxious about what he is eating. As a mother it is imperative that I panic about his diet. For the first time I can see the advantages of giving him a sausage roll. I may try ham and buttery toast tomorrow as it has to be a change. I may have marmite on toast as mum's food is always better and it may persuade him to widen his horizons.

Evil Cat Strikes Back

Evil cat is a contradictory creature. She does like to lie on someone's lap, but violently objects to being stroked. Usually the phrase, 'violently objects' is not to be taken literally but evil cat will pounce and kill hands that are unwelcome. She does give fair warning - battle ears, glares, tail set to stun, hisses - so it isn't fair to complain. Then you get a swipe of the paw that is actually lovely and soft, though delivered with venomous intent, or a vicious suck.

In fact dear heart was mentioning this last night as evil cat sat along him with her tail thrashing like a special effect in sci fi film. "Really," He said, "She doesn't leave a mark and other cats that have possessed us have given us some serious wounds." This is of course true - I still have the scar associated with a former cat and a bath. When evil cat was a kitten (many, many years ago) and she fit on the palm of my hand, I could pick her up and she would madly attack my hand, no matter how high above the carpet she was. She has never left a mark, though she gives a very strong impression that she would!

Well, the laws of causative narration then caught up with dear heart. He stroked evil cat one time too many and he has an inch long, deep red scratch right over the knuckle where it stings whenever he uses his hand. But she did warn him.

Evil Cat and Her Little Ways

Evil cat is evil. At the moment I struggle up and down stairs - I keep telling little bear I have a bone in my knee. Something 'went' about a month after he was born and it has never been quite right since. Now the kitchen, where evil cat gets fed, is down a flight of stairs from the living room. I seem to trot (or currently limp) up and down on a very regular basis. However tonight I sat down with a sigh after little bear went to sleep. I was sitting down and staying sat.

However, evil cat decided that she was starving and needed food immediately. Dear heart very kindly went downstairs and put fresh water in the water dish and fresh food down. Evil cat watched him do this then came upstairs to harass me. Because it doesn't count unless I do it.

Being harassed by evil cat is like the water torture with spikes. She will sit on the arm of the chair, then purr at me. Then a single paw will come out to prod. She will climb over my lap. Then she will climb up my north face. If I am trying to have a conversation with dear heart, evil cat will ensure that she blocks any line of sight. After a while you have reached all you can take, so she gets put on the floor. And again. And again. And again. And all through this - the food is down! It is the food she eats every day! Then she will run over to dear heart, try and sit on anything that will stop him, for example, having a drink. Then back to me...

So I limped downstairs, put down (without exaggeration) two teaspoons of food on top of the fresh stuff put down half an hour previously by dear heart - and she ate the dish full. Then she came upstairs and went to sleep in her basket.

Standards are Slipping

I often get Saturday afternoon off, dear heart looks after little bear and I get to go and do all those things I want to get on with or even relax. Last Saturday I went out to visit a museum. Actually, I went in to visit a museum tea shop thinking that I would at least get a seat there.

Well, I decided a wanted cheese on toast. The board called it a rarebit, and I rather winced at the price, but I thought I would treat myself.

I sat there ages, looking at the piece of carrot cake I had bought for 'afters' and starting to consider having it as 'firsts' because after all, it all mixes up in your tummy. However, finally, the rarebit arrives - on a breadboard. I was not the only one. A surreptitious look round and yes, there were other people eating off breadboards with various degrees of comfort. It was a genuine breadboard - a flat piece of wood with a groove around it. In any shop I would have unhesitatingly called it a breadboard. There were also some 'leaves' as a sort of salad. No doubt they would have contributed to my 'five a day' but I really didn't like the look of the unidentified dressing so I decided to have an apple later, and carrot cake counts towards the five a day anyway.

I may well return to the tea shop, after all it is unlikely to be desperately full on a Saturday afternoon, but I will forgo the rarebit and stick to cake. Apart from anything else, how are they cleaning the breadboards? I always thought that you shouldn't put wood in a dishwasher, and it is very hard to scrub into all the marks made by people using a knife and fork on a breadboard. Also apparently the wood swells to allow germs in and I was once told very sternly that I should change my wooden spoons at least every six months.

Then again, perhaps it was a one off emergency in the crockery area. After all, serving cheese on toast on a breadboard can't be a regular thing.

Little bear's feet of fury

Little bear does not like blankets, so I pop him in a fleecy sleep suit at bed time. However tonight I pulled a new one out of a packet without checking, and I didn't have another clean. Little bear was extremely displeased - this sleep suit didn't have feet!

Now, the room is not particularly cold, and it could encourage little bear to use the blanket, so I was not terribly upset, though I made a mental note to retire this particular sleep suit early. Little bear, however, was incandescent. How dare the sleep suit not have feet? What was going on? Mother, sort this out immediately! The poor little man was red in the face at the unacceptable absence of feet in his sleep suit.

So I put on the slippers he had worn for the first time today, and he calmed down just fine.

I have made a very BIG note to myself - sleep suits should have feet

Next door's roof

There is a lot of weather around today, and unfortunately this is the day that they have decided to mend the roof next door.

It is a terrible dilemma - I am really grateful that the roof will no longer leak and get damp into our house, and I am desperately happy for the people living next door who can start to get the house fixed. However, I would really have liked to see the landlord prosecuted, because he is so horrible, and this should have been sorted out at least two years ago and it is only the threat of prosecution that has made him do the minimum. My damp is unlikely to be finally sorted until the leak in the bathroom is properly fixed.

I am not confident with the roofers either. Not only has the landlord employed them, which suggests that they are naive, desperate or very poor at their job, but they looked very young and they knocked on my door about mending my roof. I said I had it in hand. He actually said, 'we can do it for you now, really cheap'. This is not a phrase that fills me with confidence. Though I do rather sympathise with them climbing up on top of a four storey house in howling winds and rain. They got very upset when I wouldn't employ them, so I won't be taking out tea and buns for the poor young lads, but it must be desperate times.

Now I hope that the gentleman who is supposed to be doing my roof will actually do my roof!

Little bear's breakfast

I have come to realise that the dizzy spells and times when I feel so unwell may be connected to lack of food. I manage some empty calories during the day, but very little in the way of proper breakfast and lunch.

So this morning little bear and I came downstairs. He was going to have his ready brek (sainsbury version, very pleasant) with full fat milk. I was going to have weetabix with skimmed milk, as he has always treated weetabix with loathing and contempt, so I thought I would be able to tuck in without too much interference.

I hadn't realised that weetabix tastes different from Mum's bowl. So I am now sneaking in some toast while little bear is playing happily in his playpen have done some serious damage to a large bowl of weetabix and his ready brek. I'm surprised he can move!

Last night was very traumatic. He has an IKEA panda that he carries everywhere with him - his pandy! I love IKEA toys - they wash! At night in his cot he also has the 'Three Musketeers' or three toys, all from IKEA, that I know are safe - Sally the Camel, Nessie and Catlington. Except last night I could not find Catlington anywhere! Dear heart and myself tore the house apart, desperate to find Catlington while little bear wailed in his cot. I was reassured that the universe was working as it should when Catlington was found actually in the cot, just wrapped up in a fold of blanket.

Confessions of a nosy neighbour

I am something of a failure as a nosy neighbour. I never notice anything - I completely missed the armed police and sniffer dogs searching the street when there was an armed robbery at a nearby bookies. Now that we have double glazing I hear even less.

However, Sunday afternoon I did actually notice that an argument was taking place, but I was a little rushed and I thought it was not the right thing to do to go out and gawp. I knew it was the gentleman next door, who is lovely but will stand no nonsense. I decided that it would look very bad if I actually went out as a spectator.

I carried on until I realised that there were three policemen outside! I thought it must be serious, three policemen on a Sunday afternoon. Tried to discreetly crane around my curtains, but I got no clues.

Monday came, and I was torn. Should I call round to the lovely people next door and ask whether they had a visit from the boys in blue? Should I wait until they mention it? I was absolutely caught between trying to be a reasonable, sensible, non-of-my-business neighbour and desperate curiosity. I was confident it would not be anything dreadful if it was due to the people next door but what was it?

I felt somewhat let down when I found out that 'Her three doors down' had been a little upset when her sister couldn't park directly outside her house (I have mentioned the congestion around here) so she complained. She does tend to go at these sort of things like a bull in a china shop and when the gentleman next door refused to move after all (as there was space within yards and the people involved were all able bodied) she called the police and complained that the gentleman next door had been verbally abusive.

I had to think about this. 'Her three doors down' has a vocabulary that would get little bear's mouth washed out with soap. I mean, I know all the words, and you need to be able to let off steam, but really the language is, well, industrial. When she gets into full flow, she could strip paint. I can see her point, it is like living in a garage forecourt, but if you just say something reasonable to the gentleman next door then all the cars are moved and there is no problem. And her calling someone else verbally abusive...

I haven't heard her side of the story, but I do have trouble feeling for her. If I say that she makes Lily Savage look like Barbara Cartland, I would be exaggerating for comical effect. Unfortunately, I think I would be exaggerating less than you would think.

Evil Cat and the Vet

Evil cat has not been as evil as normal, merely malevolent really. So, rather than leave anything to chance dear heart took her to the vets. She tried to run away, she cried, she wriggled, but she was relentlessly examined and there was no escape from the thermometer.

The Vet thought that evil cat was in generally good health for fourteen and a half but asked us to bring her back for a full set of blood and urine tests, what they described as a 'geriatric cat MOT'. It is hard to think of evil cat as geriatric, more old in sin.

Dear heart dropped her off at the vets in the morning, then he went on to work. Evil cat was, well, unco-operative, but they managed to get the blood samples they needed. She resolutely refused to widdle. She was not widdling, she refused. She only takes the wotsit, thank you so much.

Dear heart had a phone call asking if he could come and pick up evil cat early - apparently she was frightened and upset. For all my jokes, I hate the thought of her being frightened and upset, but I have trouble visualising it. She is relentlessly, tirelessly, endlessly aggressive. And poor dear heart couldn't go and get her, which was dreadfully upsetting for him. The poor man was out of the house twelve hours at a manic job then at least another half hour morning and evening travelling time to get evil cat to the vets. He didn't begrudge it, and I think he deserves a medal.

Apparently evil cat has the very tiniest, earliest trace that her kidneys are not working as they should. This is apparently normal in cats of her age. I ensured tuna was put down as soon as she got in and a comfy space by the fire. She was just so timid last night, I was so upset. I was quite relieved when she made up for it today.

The Health Visitor Cometh

Because I am having so much trouble getting out, the Health Visitors have decided that they will come and take me and little bear to mums & tot's groups. They are being really nice and kind, but I do feel like a naughty girl being made to go to school!

So I try and organise matters so that little bear has an early morning nap. The early morning slips away and still he is playing vigorously with his blocks. Mid morning comes and goes and despite the gloom I take him for a little walk to the end of the street and the newspaper shop. Then he runs round and round the living room until - finally - he achieves naphood.

He actually only gets to sleep around an hour before the Health Visitor is due to arrive. I'm keeping my fingers crossed that things will go well and he will at least get that elusive substance - quality sleep. About half an hour before hand my friend rings. I am trying to explain to her all the multifarious things happening - when the Health Visitor arrives.

I explain my situation, or try to but then two ladies knock on the door. They are 'doing outreach' going from door to door asking if mums have children under five and do they want to take part in these particular activities. The ladies are 'official' and have woken little bear up.

So, despite my proud boasts of little bear's placid nature, he wakes up crying and grumpy. I change him as quickly as I can and go downstairs where little bear clings to me, as if he would like to go to sleep mid cuddle. The ladies 'doing outreach' are very nice and give me lots of information, then leave. I believe that the area I live in is considered particularly deprived and has special EC funding for all sorts of things.

Little bear then starts to cheer up a little and runs around, showing the Health Visitor (who was lovely) his gorgeous smile and generally being a darling. She is coming to take me to playgroup next week.

The result is that I am getting the support I really need to get little bear out to meet other children, but I am also feeling a little bewildered by the whole business. I have sheets and sheets of activities, places, contacts, ideas...

Embarrassingly, I also think that my cup of tea for the Health Visitor was substandard, as it was a little milky. That is so shameful.

We went to see two houses yesterday. It was a deeply depressing experience in one way. Dear heart works in an area much more affluent than the one we live in, and as it is an hour's journey each way apart from anything else, it makes sense to look to moving. However our inexpensive first house has four double bedrooms and three receptions, although 'in need of modernisation, would suit diy enthusiast' and we can effectively afford a two bedroom one reception probably repossession.

The first one was a repossession, and it was so grim looking round. It had been gutted and the place smelled awful. However it's location was absolutely marvellous, near to shops, work, good schools and it was affordable. I think if bedroom two had been one foot longer I would be booking the moving van now. The second was absolutely gorgeous! However, again it was that bit too small.

Having looked at some of the sites offering free valuations, it is a deeply depressing experience, but we can but see. We are going to try and find a three bed that we can afford and that is within a reasonable journey for dear heart. Now I need to work out how to save as much as possible and accrue as much extra money as possible.

I also have the deeply depressing task of trying to declutter a four bed, three reception house to fit into a house with half the square footage.

An approaching bonfire?

The little street I live in is quite a backwater, unmade, in atrocious condition and generally ignored by the council. Thus the family next door have had a sizeable scrapyard in the street and only recently have been reported to health and safety.

A few weeks ago, at the end of September, I pointed out to the gentleman next door that I could see a problem. The laurels opposite had been hacked back and the trimmings piled on top of a hedge that the people at the back's predecessors had uprooted over a year ago. Their was, shamefully, some trimmings from my buddlia (however it is spelled) and also a lot of branches and wood recently dumped by person or persons unknown. If I had reported it I would have got the gentleman next door into even more trouble, so I just sighed. Next to all this nicely drying wood are the remains of the winnebago and a large pile of tyres, along with sundry cars and caravans in assorted stages of dilapidation. Also, we are on the corner nearest this pile so it includes dear heart's pride and joy, just about four year old car which we managed to get last year. There are also a lot of youngsters with too much time and too little sense around, and Bonfire night is approaching. I had concerns that the youngsters would find it great fun to torch a very large and dry pile of wood next to a lot of tyres and some elderly cars - and ours!

I explained that I was concerned, but I could not leave little bear to supervise a controlled bonfire, and I certainly was not bringing him out to help! The gentleman next door reassured me that he would see to it. I did offer the use of our rusty incinerator but he reassured me that 'his mate' was bringing him a large metal drum, specifically for this purpose.

The pile of wood is still there, but drier. The pile of tyres and the pieces of car are still there. I am now becoming apprehensive. It is such a tempting target!

If the worst happens at least I will have a good view as a fire engine proves or disproves health and safety's assertion that the road is too cluttered.

Things that go bump

Little bear is stirring. This may have something to do with someone at the back of us falling of a ladder and swearing loudly, or at least swearing loudly, I just have to guess at the crash, thunk thunk.

There is a consistent scraping noise, so they may be decorating after their last argument. If they decorate every time they argue badly enough to trash the house they will keep B&Q in business.

I had better go - poor little bear has been short changed for his nap.

A wonderful evening

I have just had a most lovely evening.

Little bear was playing happily when dear heart came home. The stew I made was absolutely gorgeous, and was brilliant with baked potatoes. The home made bread was also extremely pleasant. Little bear played nicely after tea, then we took him upstairs and he was really good as we got ready for bed. As soon as dear heart had done his duty as Reader of the Bedtime Story little bear went into his cot and made no fuss at all.

Afterwards we sat in the living room with nice, calm music playing. Dear heart was working on his computer and I was knitting and enjoying it. I feel so at peace.

Little bear is getting more of a Mr Mischief. This morning I cleared all the blocks, bricks and hard toys out of his playpen and into a large plastic box which I placed next to the playpen. Little bear's playpen is large with a padded base and lots of soft toys, blankets, and I regularly drag out bits of book and socks. He had shown all the signs of needing a nap, so I put him in his playpen and left him. He had about fifteen minutes or so and then seemed to engage in serious demolition work. When I decided enough was enough and went up he had brought the very large box into the playpen, emptied the toys all over the base of the playpen and climbed into the box. When I came into the room I got 'the look' as if to say, 'what?' This afternoon, after a much more prolonged nap I popped in and he was down to his nappy, his clothes next to him. Also next to him was the box which I had taken out again but this time filled with the toys that I had left in the playpen. Again I got 'the look'. I can't wait to work out what he thinks he is doing, but he seems much more orderly than I ever will be.

A visitor

Yesterday there was a lovely slim silver tabby visiting our garden. She had the most remarkable orange eyes I have ever seen. She sneaked into the house when I popped out to the rubbish bin, but left when I went back into the house. There was an air of ownership around her that told me very clearly that living there for nearly fifteen years meant nothing - the house was hers. Fortunately evil cat was asleep shedding hairs on the bed upstairs, so at least there was no war.

I do have to say that if she had not worn a collar I would have been tempted to try and introduce them, as she looked very slim and the weather was quite cold. I shall see if she returns.

I have booked evil cat into the vets. Her tummy is very rumbly and the level in her water dish is sinking very quickly all of a sudden.

I hope she behaves better than last time - I am surprised that they still will see her.

She is currently sitting on the desk next to me, willing me to turn off the computer and go and sit in the other room so she can sit on my windpipe. She is not quite her usual malevolent self, and I am not sure why.

It could be that she is upset by the breadmaker. I think she imagines that it is growling at her, but she has not yet attacked it like she did the hair dryer. It could be that she just has a poorly tummy. I know she won't use the litter tray while I am in the room, presumably because there is no lock on the door.

Deliveries

I had a phone call. 'Hello, Sainsburys Deliveries, I can't find your house.' This is unfortunately a common happening. (I wish I could spell occurance occurence occurence ocurance you know!) I asked where he was. 'Outside the funeral parlour'. That was actually at one end of our road. I explained tactfully, and the poor delivery driver manoeuvred past four cars, a camper van, a small towing caravan and a very large trailer to come to a stop next to a large pile of tyres. All of these moved in with the people next door, and as they are lovely neighbours I really can't complain. At least the winnebago (elderly and burned out) has mostly been removed, a few pieces remaining in a heap.

To make matters worse, the Delivery man was followed by a large white van delivering a gear box to the gentleman next door. He had to squeeze out past two of those people carrier things, both of which with their licence plates removed and both also the property of the gentleman next door unless anyone in an official capacity asks.

But I still would not swap my next door neighbours. Their generosity and kindness should be a proverb.

Well, I am sitting here, waiting for the Sainsburys delivery. Evil cat keeps trying to sit on the keyboard.

There is a friend of the man next door who seems to be sweet on me - he always smiles, gave me his number (which I quickly 'lost') and generally likes to chat. Now, I don't want to appear rude, and I don't want to appear as a snob or unpleasant, but I do feel a little uncomfortable with him. He also looks like someone who is shown on Crimewatch which is a little unfortunate because it is wrong to judge by appearances. And when Sainsburys deliver he will be able to have a nice chat. I am a little fed up about that. Fortunately it is a little order so I won't be out long.

That is the thing with Sainsburys orders. You can't see how much space it is going to take up in the cupboards. I have been going into the advanced mathematics of it. If I order more that £40 on Monday, Tuesday or Wednesday I save £2.50 on the delivery charge, and if I order more than £100 then delivery is free! But if my order comes to £32.73 plus £6 delivery, then I really need to avoid buying 'stuff' to make it up. £6 is the cost of two local day riders, and I get more delivered than I could carry in two days of bus journey and without the absolute trauma of getting little bear and his pushchair on and off buses. And if I order once a week or once a fortnight then the advance logistics of finding fresh fruit and vegetables within reasonable travelling distance and with respect to little bear's tolerance for shopping, wind, hail, rain and snow, are made a lot easier.

Now all I need to do is find something constructive to do with all the time I am saving.

Location, location, location

Continuing the introductions, the home I live in is in an area that was once relatively respectable before a local buy-to-let landlord started buying up the local houses and renting them out to, well, anyone who wasn't likely to complain about absence of kitchen lights or holes in roof. Not many Accountants fall into that category.

It sounds like the neighbours whose back wall is our back wall have just taken a large delivery of rubble down their stairs. Little bear's room has soundproofing and I leave him with Classic FM on really quietly every night.

The neighbours to the side are lovely, but their landlord hasn't mended the hole in their roof... If I can see damp from it in our house, I do think it worrying for them!

About two months ago, perhaps less, the local pharmacy moved, kept the old shop but instead of having medicine it had groceries. As it was the only clean shop within miles that sold eggs I was extremely pleased. Then the newsagents started stocking groceries as well...

The trade war is at an early stage, with the former pharmacy now having an 'off licence' so instead of antidepressants one can get vodka. The newsagents do have a very established and loyal customer base, however, and are also running Avon. I am friendly with the people in both shops and find myself, if I call in one shop and buy some groceries, smuggling past the staff in the other shop!

Dear heart

Dear heart is the delight of my life. He is so good to me. We have been married nearly twenty years, and have of course had ups and downs. I think it absolutely marvellous that he still wants to spend time with me.

He is working so hard at the moment, it is so busy. And he is fussing because I am poorly and depressed, which is so hard to deal with. I think men do struggle when their wives are depressed. Men do and there is not much another can do to help depression.

He has given up his night out tonight to make sure I am all right.

I am trying to think of something nice for him to come home to - in the area of culinary matters - and thinking of recipes that can be created that do not require too much movement. He will understand if I can't but I want it to be lovely for him.

Little bear

Little bear is soundly napping, and I am so glad. He has been so tired. He had a rotten day yesterday which ended with him being extremely sick. I am actually oddly proud - he has not been sick for the first 21 months of his life, so I have done something right. I wasn't actually happy that he was sick. Poor little bear - he was having his night time bottle when he pushed it away, and just let everything flow - all over me, himself, the carpet... I managed to keep his favourite toy out of the stream thank goodness.

At this point I braced myself for a hectic evening and started singing and cuddling him as I got him and me changed and the carpet mopped up. Dear heart was wonderful as he had just gone downstairs after his duties of Reader of the Bedtime Story had finished and he came belting up with clean clothes for little bear and an extra pair of hands. But little bear was just smiling happily. So I put him in his cot along with the usual menagerie of soft toys and he went straight to sleep. Dear heart, who can creep quieter than I, checked out that he was well, and he was. He woke up as happy as you like at 6am.

He is now having an extended nap, but yesterday's naps seemed a little unsatisfactory and the day before his naps were entirely absent, as he was far too tired for sleep. I know I 'ought' to be performing housewifery while he sleeps however as I am still so woozy so I am indulging myself.

Evil Cat

Evil cat is sulking again. First of all she cannot believe that I have not turned the heating on in the garden, and is thoroughly unimpressed with this cold business. As evil cat can run head first into doors without visible effect, I don't think much goes on between the ears, so just because this is her fourteenth winter doesn't mean she recognises what goes on. What is worse is that I am consistently objecting to her trying to lie across my windpipe.

The antidepressants have been making me feel extremely ill, so I have trouble staying upright. I've decided to indulge myself with a short time of knitting with calm music on before little bear wakes from his nap. Evil cat approves of absence of little bear, presence of fire and calm music. However the best place is to sit directly under the light that is lighting my knitting - otherwise known as my windpipe. She is only fluff and malice but it is amazing how heavy she can be when it comes to oxygen flow and she isn't really helpful when you are trying to see what you are doing with moss stitch.

First Post! A formal introduction

I feel like I have just started a new school or job - I am starting a blog and it is such a great leap into the unknown.

As Lady Deirdre Waggoner would say, it is best to start with a clear, firm introduction. I am Wannabe Sybil. I aspire to the character and attitude of Lady Sybil Ramkin from Terry Pratchett's Discworld books. I would also like to aspire to her financial situation but I am much nearer the financial situation of Sam Vimes in 'Guards Guards' and it is character that counts.

I have a little boy, which I refer to as little bear, who I absolutely adore. He is twenty two months now, and toddling.

I am also married to dear heart, who works very hard and can usually cope with my scatty ideas.

I also share the house with evil cat, who is a small tabby that is more like 'Wannabe Greebo' except evil cat is a neutered female. Attitude is all.

I hope that this blog will be worth reading. Thank you for your time, it has been a pleasure meeting you.