Eating

Claire asked if I wanted to visit the wholefood shop she goes to and loves and of course I said yes, especially as they serve cooked food in a cafe there. I was amazed to see it was a Whole Foods Market that I know and love from my time living in the USA. There isn't one in Bozeman, Montana, but they are most everywhere else in the country.

I had heard there was a branch in the centre of London and in fact there are a few dotted around now. The stores in the USA are usually in a large purpose build building and is enormous by British standards. By contrast this store in Capham Junction, takes over three small shops with adjoining doorways and is subsequently quaint and lacking in space.

I was glad to see a good range of supplements but I noticed an absence of Stevia, the natural 'sweetener' that in the west we aren't supposed to call a sweetener, because of the hold of the pharmaceutical companies on the governments of USA and European Union. In both the USA and Germany (I don't know about other countries, you can buy the product that calls itself a supplement. The slogan (to get around the rules) is 'Don't sweeten your drink, supplement it.' However it's not to be found anywhere in Britain, which is a shame because it doesn't effect blood sugar levels (and other problems) like other natural sweeteners and doesn't adversely affect the brain like all artificial sweeteners.

After we had visited Southside House we came upon Le Pain Quotidien in Wimbledon High Street. It was a lovely place. There were quite a few families with young children, and the food was delicious.

Stately Homes

Claire and I visited two stately homes this weekend.

They was a very large contrast between the two. The first one Southside House. on the south side of Wimbledon Common is a 16 century house. Well, it's two houses built with an adjoining wall and made into one in the last century.

The interest of this house is the story of the people who lived there. It is a small dwelling by stately homes standards, and all visitors are treated to a guided tour. And this is the interest. The story of the house and it's people is told by the guide. It's a story of tragedy, strong will and absence of true love. So it's good to learn the lesson here.

The other home, by contrast, is an enormous royal palace, the Hampton Court Palace. Half Tudor and Half Georgian. Another story of tragedy, strong will and absence of true love. A famous inhabitant was King Henry VIII.

We were fortunate to be visiting on the Bank Holiday Monday of the Easter weekend because they had actors the whole day depicting the state visit to the Palace (at that time belonging to Cardinal Wolsey) of King Henry and his first wife Katherine of Aragon. To make the story interesting, a lady called Anne Boleyn was in the party and Cardinal Wolsey gave a key to the gate to the King so he could come and go to his apartments there as much as he wished, but the king misunderstood and thought he had been given the whole palace. Of course you don't argue with the king.

Claire and I witnessed the last two scenes in Henry's apartments, which was great because reference was made to events that had happened earlier in the day so it didn't feel like we'd missed anything. Apparently the king and the lady Anne Boleyn had been flirting durting the dancing. The actors were very good. The public, mostly children, were given the opportunity to wear 'velvet' robes so they could feel part of the scenes. In fact we were part of them.

The reason we arrived later was because we spent the first part of the day in the beautiful gardens. In fact I think the best part of the visit was sitting on a bench surrounded by a sea of daffodils dancing with the breeze in the sun.

More Technological Wonders

I have been so grateful for the SAT NAV this last weekend. I remember how stressful it is to drive around London using a map or a list of driving directions, but using the SAT NAV is a cinch! I let the technology deal with the hard part while I concentrate on being safe.

It let me down twice however, but both times I was on a motorway so I just carried on and used my judgement. Both times it failed was when I stopped at a services and when I got back to the car the machine was telling me 'no route found' however much I tried to programme it. I sorted it a few miles down the way so it all worked out fine.

Technology, doesn't work without electricity though. I got home to a cold dark house. The house is rented and so has a system of prepaying for electricity and the payment had run out over the weekend. I couldn't see inside the house. I couldn't find my matches and so went to a garage to get a torch.

I'd left my bed strewn with stuff that I'd had to turf out of a bag I wanted to use.

I found the water to be still hot so had a shower and went to bed. I had bought lots of food for the week but didn't put it in the fridge or freezer because I tried them and they weren't cold.

In the morning I could see, but the house was very cold.

The family came back mid morning and bought more electricity.

The Wonders of Technology

I thank God for the wonders of technology! Today I was able to watch and participate in my Granddaughter Cara's baptism even though I was thousands of miles away.

Her parents had decided to have her baptised during the Easter conference of the Summit Lighthouse, which is broadcast via video streaming on the internet. I thank the person manning the camera for training it onto the family group whilst people were greeting the baby after the ceremony.

I saw her other proud grandma taking photos so I hope see some great pictures of the event soon too.

Change

I seem to have chosen a life of change. (I mean the change that occurs when I do something different. I don't mean the money type change, although that might be true too because I don't see any big bucks in my life, just small change.)

However, I don't find change easy at all. I get anxious before I travel anywhere. I even get anxious before I go out of the front door for any reason. I find ways to delay the event. "Oh, I just need to do this." Or when I've got outside the door, I often need to go back in because I've forgotten something. I'm often late for work because I don't want to stop what I'm doing and go to work, but then I equally don't want to to leave work, for the same reason. This is even true now, when my work is just outside my bedroom door as I live-in on the job.

Ah, I wonder if this has anything to do with the fact that I never wanted to go home from school because I never knew what mood my mother would be in? Not that she ever abused me, but she was often short tempered and irritable.

I remember preparing for a short holiday in the Lake District with my then husband. We lived in Manchester so it was only about an hour of two away, but we spent the whole of the first day getting ready to go. We had food to buy and packing to do and ended up arriving in the evening. Neither of us were happy about this, but felt we couldn't do anything different.

Another memorable time was when I was travelling with my two babies to visit my parents who lived 200 miles away. My husband didn't want to spend the time in visiting them, so I was on my own. I stopped at a motorway services to change the girl's nappies. The baby changing room didn't accommodate a double buggy, so had to leave it outside the room whilst I was in doing that. It didn't have a toilet in it, so I had to ask a stranger to look after my two children while I relieved myself! We then all wanted something to eat. I fed my youngest and because of the stress and new surroundings my toddler wanted me to feed her too and I needed something to eat as well, and that had taken so long that the nappies needed changing again, and I needed to go too! As we were leaving, I found a pay-phone and some change to let my mum know of the change of arrival time and discovered we had been there two hours!

And the there was the time I went to Frankfurt for a few days to attend a meeting. I had a car but decided to take public transport to the airport to save on parking fees. My journey consisted of taxi to the train station, train to London, underground system to anther train station and a train to the airport. About 2-3 hours in total. Of course as usual I was anxious before the event. I tend to delay packing 'til the very last minute and rush around leaving my dwelling looking like a tornado had hit it.

Arriving at the check-in I was asked for my passport, which I didn't have with me! So I used my return train tickets a little earlier than expected to go get it. Arriving back home I find i had also left something else very important behind so packed that too. I phoned my friend, who was picking me up from the remote airport used by cheap airlines, about the problem and asked him to be there when the last flight got in at after midnight his time. It was a difficult decision about how to get back. Do I spend precious time on the internet working out which is the quickest route? Do I drive in the rush hour traffic and pay for parking which, if there are no hold ups would get me to the airport earlier than public transport? Do I book the car-park online, thus saving some money?

I opt for driving and booking online to find I could only save money if booking a day in advance. Fortunately the notorious M25 motorway has free flowing traffic and I arrive at the long term car park in time. However the buses I see are all going the opposite direction - about 4 of them! I get desperate, the flight leaves in 30 minutes, and flag one down. He has no passengers and I explain my plight so he helps me get my flight. (Love the rhyming, don't you?)

He careens around corners at alarming speed and drops me off. I run to check-in knowing I don't have a valid ticket but want to let them know I'm there. I pay extra for the change of ticket, rush back to check-in and run through the now nearly empty airport to the departure gate. The departure gate is empty! Oh woe is me! I'll miss the first day of the meeting and I'm the secretary, supposed to take minutes! I'll have to stay here all night because no way can I afford the petrol to go back home again. And my friend with a car in Germany will have to come out and miss some of the meeting too, or I'll have to do the scary thing and get public transport in a country where I don't read or speak the language, and I'm out of money anyway.

Deep breath. I go to the help desk. I was at the wrong gate! So I run even further, arrive at the gate ..... and wait in line about 15 minutes because the plane is delayed!

At the almost deserted airport in Germany I can't find my friend and my phone is not working and I can't get the alien pay-phones to work. And I'm tired. After what seems like ages and was probably only a few minutes I spot him. Whew, bless him for coming an hour's drive to pick me up and refusing the petrol money.

Anyway, the reason I started this post was because I came down to London yesterday to stay with my daughter for Easter but arrived at 5pm due to the above problem. I drink a lot of water and so need to make frequent stops along the way. At one stop I resisted buying chocolate (I don't do that anymore) but still wanted to buy something to stop me feeling anxious so I bought a book. Much more expensive but less detrimental to my health. Of course the best thing to do in that situation is to tap EFT style on the fact that I feel anxious, but it doesn't seem as appealing as buying a book. Back at the car i find the SAT NAV stopped working and won't find my route! Grr, sniff sniff. I'm pretty sure of my rout into London so continue on my way, hoping it will decide to work to get me through London to the house I've never been to before. After feeling sorry for myself for a while I start tapping my finger to the side of my thumbnail. This makes a difference.

At my next stop I buy a cheese toasty even though I'm not particularly hungry. I obviously need more tapping. Fortunately I had an idea to program the SAT NAV differently and yes, it gave me the route again. So I was able to navigate through London without mishap. Yay!

Getting the Car

Saturday saw me working most of the day.

I had to go down to Southampton with the family to pick up a replacement car for the Jeep, and drive it back to Corby. It's a 3 hour journey each way.

The Jeep was the vehicle that I've been driving the girls around in. It feels a bit like driving a bus. It's long and wide and high from the ground. That sort of vehicle feels OK to drive in the USA. I had a large vehicle when I lived there, but in Britain, the land of narrow roads and small parking spaces, it seems ostentatious. It also uses a lot of petrol.

So my employers got me a smaller, more economical car. Well, that's what they said. it's a Toyota something and I wouldn't say it was smaller. It seems as long and as wide, but it is lower to the ground. It was easier to get into but I missed the height while driving. It's more economical, so that's OK.

It is has had one owner and was used in a part exchange deal with a car sales dealership. They have a guy there who sells the part exchange cars on ebay. They certainly cleaned it up nicely, but the problem was they used so many chemicals to clean the interior that opening the door I was hit by headache inducing fumes. So I decided to go home on the A roads rather than the motorway so I could drive with the windows open.

I had just set off from the petrol station where my employer had filled the tank, when I came across a Hobbycraft store and garden centre. I was not enjoying being in the car and was hungry so decided to stop and get something to eat in the garden centre before making the journey home. However I called into the Hobbycraft store to buy some supplies for the girl's education. Fortunately I had the education kitty with me.

I was very selective and put some things back on the shelves, but still spent £56, which was all I had in the purse. I'm going to introduce the stuff one at a time to get the best use out of the items. I found a lovely Easter story book with stickers so the girls can interact with the story. Also two stuffed animal kits - a bunny and a chick. A number jigsaw, some hammer beads and polystyrene eggs to decorate, and ribbon to decorate it with. It was 6 pm when I left the store, and the garden centre was closing to.

So I set off , having set the Sat Nav for home. I stopped for something to eat, for a coffee, some water and to relive myself a few times. Just after half way, the road was closed so I had to take a diversion of, many miles. I also passed a 24 hour grocery store, so called in to buy food because I was very low at home.

All windows were open all journey, with the heater on but the toxic smell was till there when I got home at 11:30 pm having left at noon. But I had my groceries and so didn't have to go out on Sunday.

The End of the Hard Slog.

The task of looking after a pair of girls whist their parents were away has not been an easy one.

Physically it was hard working 14 hour days with no break. As an introvert, I gain my energy from being solitary, so I felt I wanted to spend some time 'doing my own thing' after the girls went to bed and the kitchen sorted, so my evening didn't start until 10 pm. This meant I got to bed late each night.

The youngest wanted to go to sleep in my bed but I told her that if she woke up in the middle of the night, she was welcome to come into my bed, but she was to start off the night in her parent's bed with her sister. So that's what she did each night, and of course I woke up when she arrived.

I won't go into details of the problems due to missing parents but we used EFT tapping each day and I'm sure it helped some.

I really enjoyed the home education aspect of the time. It was lovely to see that learning was taking place incidentally all the time. For details of the activities we did, visit my other blog http://edathome2010.wordpress.com. However, I was dismayed to hear from the mother that the children told her they wanted to go back to school. I think this may be due to the fact that their first week of home education coincided with their parents being away. I realise I didn't ask the mother the reason. This I must do before I jump to conclusions.

However much I like the girls and enjoy their company, I'm certainly glad to be able to hand them over to their mother now, in the early evening.

Being a Governess

I'm now officially a governess and have started a new blog to record the 'education' of my charges. Of course I cannot actually tell what they are learning (and I defy any teacher and OFSTED inspector to authentically know what any child has 'learnt') but I will give them rich experiences for them to do with as they wish. Both girls will be learning different things from the same experience.

Anyway here is the new blog. http://edathome2010.wordpress.com/

I already have 3 posts and one About page.

Here is the info on the about page.

This is a blog about educating two girls at home. 'Nancy' is 5 years old and 'Lulu' is 9. (These are not their real names.) I am not their parent but their governess. This is a new venture for the family as the children were unhappy at the school they attended. It may or may not be a permanent arrangement as it depends how all parties feel about it.

This blog is designed to be a record of activities and achievements of the girls. I envision the audience to consist of the family, so they can keep track of their girls' education, and maybe any official body who wishes to check up that the girls are getting a good education. It may also be of interest to other people who are, or thinking about educating at home.

My educating philosophy can be described thus. Children learn by living their life. They learn when they are engaged in what they are doing. You cannot stop a child learning, unless you force them to do something they are not interested in for a sustained period of time, which has the effect of turning off their curiosity and motivation to learn. Oh, that sounds a lot like school, doesn't it? I therefore will not be 'giving them planned lessons' or workbooks unless they request them. I will however be giving them a rich pallet of experiences from which I hope they will be interested, gaining knowledge and skills as they go.

A Great Shower

I like to have a shower before bed, and the night I arrived here I had a great one. I use the family bathroom along with the girls. There is a bath and a separate shower cubicle.

The cubicle is large enough for me to bend down to clean my feet, the ceiling is high enough so I can stand up straight, the shower head is not blocked with limescale, the water pressure ranges from strong to stronger, the temperature is however hot I like it, and however long a shower I have, the hot water has never run out. An altogether wonderful shower!

As you can see from my comments I've put up with some drastic showers throughout the years.

One of the more interesting ones was my shower in Kuwait. The cold water tank for the apartment building was situated on the roof as were all the other tanks on all the other buildings in the city. During the months from April to November, this tank would get hot with temperatures ranging from about 28 C (82 F) in April to over 40 C (104 F) in August, then down to 25 C (77 F) in November.

So during those months I didn't turn the hot water on and used my hot water tank as my cold water supply because hot water came out of my cold tap. I was never in Kuwait between late June to late August, along with half the population - all those who could afford it vacated the country.

In the winter my hot water tank was not quite large enough to sustain the length of shower I desired, so I enjoyed going to the Hilton Resort Beach Club at the weekend.

In January the temperature can get as low as 9 C (48 F) but the swimming pool was always heated. It felt wonderfully hot on cool skin and of course no-one else used the pool much in the winter. Actually even when the weather got warmer it was rarely used in the early evening, which was usually the time I was there. The Hilton had two pools and I, preferring privacy when not wearing many clothes, would go to the one designed for children and nannies. You had to walk a long way from the car park, which put many people off. The main pool had a bar on the poolside and waiters to bring food, all of which I didn't care for.

I would swim for half an hour around the edge of the pool, so no stopping, and then I would float on my back just relaxing and gazing at the stars.

The other advantage of the children's pool was that the changing rooms were just at the pool edge so there was not much time in the cool air before being under a lovely hot shower. I used to stay so long in that shower that on a cool day I was glowing warm all the way back to the car.

I went to the beach throughout the winter months at the weekend. It was my favourite activity to sit on a lounger on a deserted beach with my knitting, crochet, sewing or a book, listening to my ipod or the waves of the calm Persian Gulf lapping on the shore, then go for a swim when the sun went down at 5pm. It was often over 16 C (60 F) and that to a Brit is a pleasantly warm day. I much prefer to keep my clothes on anyway so I was quite happy. As the temperature climbed higher moving into spring, the beach would have more people on it and I would sit with friends. And when it got too hot for me to be comfortable outside, the beach was fairly packed and it was difficult to find a lounger. By May, I stopped going, choosing to return in October.

There are several public, free beaches in Kuwait, but of course woman cannot swim there. So you see on hot days, men and boys in swimming trunks having a wonderful time in the waves whilst the women, dressed in heat absorbing black from head to toe, sit at the water's edge watching.

A Day in the Life

I was late to bed last night despite good intentions of having more sleep. Subsequently late up in the morning. Not enough time to do all my devotions, but never mind, I'll finish them after taking the girls to school.

But oh no! Youngest girl is ill and not going to school, so Mum is going to take Oldest to school and Youngest gets up and dressed and has a tantrum because she can't find the movie the Velveteen Rabbit on TV. Mum promises to print out some rabbit colouring pictures and come back to give them to her.

I ask Oldest to give me a lesson in how to work the TV and she finds a Good Witches program on TV and insists Youngest wants to watch it.

After Mum and Oldest depart, Youngest finds her colouring pages of boys from yesterday and puts stickers on them, then starts colouring the girl pictures that mum printed for Sunshine. I switch off the TV and she doesn't notice. We talk about the pictures she's colouring. The phone rings. it's Mum wanting to know what size shoes I wear. Dad, in China, wants to know. I add, in a panic that I have wide feet (it's very difficult for me to find comfy footwear and I wouldn't dream of buying anything without having tried them on or have the option of returning. I actually only buy a tiny fraction of shoes I try on.) Mum assures me the footware under consideration is certainly wide. I think "What is she referring to? Are they yetti boots?" Youngest asks about the rabbit pictures and is told mum is choosing them now.

She then tidies up all the pens, crayons, papers etc without any prompting from me.

She goes upstairs and shins up the door post and looks like she is going to slide down the bannisters.

I'm thinking "Should I encourage this activity. I know Mum would tell her to not do it if she was home. However, I encouraged my own girls to slide down the bannisters under supervision. I remember when they had a friend to play and they all slid down the bannisters, the mother of the girl was totally shocked that I would allow such a thing!"

Fortunately I didn't have to make a decision, because she finds her Woody doll and makes him slide down instead. I catch him at the bottom. Woody is wonderful, he only rubs his head and gets up again when he falls on his head. He has a cloth body with plastic head and hands and so it's easy to make him gesticulate with his hands whilst he is talking. He can even find his hat and put it back on his head again. He seems to enjoy sliding down the bannisters, well, at least he doesn't complain. Well, his talking facility has been curtailed due to overuse so he has to speak through Patricia.

She says she has Buzz Lightyear and so up we go to the spare room where all her possessions have been dumped and search through a pile of character toys. (Many of the toys she has are characters from films.) Buzz can speak for himself but only has a few phrases. I tell her "I don't want to catch him at the bottom of the banisters. He's so hard, he'll hurt me." She also has the girl cowboy character. Youngest gives her a name, but the problem is I can't remember the character's name, from when i saw it at school once as an end-of-term treat for the year group, and can't understand Youngest's pronunciation.

She wants to watch the DVD and finds, amongst an enormous amount of discs, Toy Story 2, which I haven't seen. She knows how to put the DVD into the machine, making sure she breathes on the disc before rubbing it against her jeans, but neither of us know how to get it showing onto the enormous flat screen TV. The phone rings and I suggest she answers it because I think it's her mum. It is. Youngest asks about the pictures and Mum tells her she's printing them now. I ask her how to get the DVD playing on the screen. So we get it going and she immediately goes off to the loo. When she comes out she goes into the kitchen for a yoghurt.

Meanwhile I've paused the DVD for her and check what she's doing in the kitchen and prevent another yoghurt pot from being consumed, offering a box of food I prepared yesterday. Youngest rarely chooses any protein to eat and there is a plethora of carbohydrate snacks in the house. So in the box is a chicken leg, a sausage, some sausage rolls and baby sweet-corn. I cooked them yesterday whilst the fish pie was being cooked. She chooses the sausage rolls but wants them nuked in the microwave.

Back in the lounge she wants to phone her mum to find out what's happening to the rabbit pictures. She doesn't know how to use the phone and so I get the phone number and call out the numbers so she can press the keys. I'm not sure if it's the particular font or she cannot read many numbers but I had to show her where the numbers were or she would have pressed the wrong keys. Mum assures her she's just about to go out the door and will be there soon.

Youngest sits down with the enormous box of Barbies and Kens to play with and I turn off the DVD without a murmur from her. She gets out the camper van and the horse. The horse is interesting because it walks and clops and neighs. At my prompting she finds the Barbie with loose hips that can sit on the horse and it walks as far as it can in between obstacles. Woody's legs prove too long to sit comfortably and the horse does not go well for this rider.

I find a Barbie with hair down to her feet that's not surprisingly tangled. I ask for a brush, but there's none to be found. So I go up to Mum's room to get her brush. Youngest is so shocked that I'm using her mum's brush that she decides to phone her to 'tell on me'. She gets the phone and pretends to phone, and even speaks. I tell her "Your mum will see I'm using her brush when she comes with the pictures so you'll see what she says then."

I enjoy brushing all the Barbies' hair and clothing them whilst she plays with Woody, the horse and camper van. I remember playing with similar dolls when I was young. My sister and I would style the hair and dress each doll - we may have had 3 between us and then I would be done. This would upset my sister because in her mind, that part was the preliminary to actually playing with the dolls and I wasn't interested in doing that.

Mum arrives with my wages, the colouring pictures and a laptop with the Velveteen Rabbit downloaded onto it. Youngest wants to go back to the office with her. Mum tells her "It won't be any fun because people will be working and not able to give you attention. Anyway Patricia will be wanting to go get her plants now, so you better get ready. I'll brush your hair."

I say "I wanted to brush her hair before, but she told me she wasn't going anywhere, so didn't need it brushed."

Mum replies" I have to wrestle it into shape by spraying stuff on and drying it."

I grab the brush, taking out the mounds of Barbie hair trapped in it and tell her about Youngest's reaction to my using it. (I would be better to stop talking about the child to her mother. It's not respectful to the child and she doesn't like it, but it's such a habit, it's not proving easy to change.)

It's news to me that I want to go out. Well, actually I do want to go get plants today, but I thought the child was ill and so didn't want to suggest taking her. I was actually just about to make some food for me, but youngest is getting on shoes, having had her hair brushed. Emma obviously doesn't want to leave her and it takes her quite a while to get out of the door.

On the short journey to the town centre we ask Archangel Michael for protection in a mantra that Youngest is now joining in with. Then she asks to sing the Thank You song so we spend the rest of the journey thanking God for everything she can think of. Youngest has brought the rabbit colouring sheets and a tub of crayons, and unfortunately keeps wanting me to see the pictures as she finishes them. I see a car park but no entrance to it and drive round the whole shopping area before finding the entrance to the multi-story car park. I enter with trepidation. I was actually trying to avoid this place, due to the size of the car. Amazingly I manage to negotiate the whole in, park and out procedure with no scrapes and only a little embarrassment as I try to exit the parking space whilst someone waits for it.

Mum had given Youngest a £20 note to spend on a plant and pens and whatever she wanted apart from clothes. "Because you've got enough of those and Daddy will be bringing far too many things back with him from China on Monday." She is very compliant whilst we are out, which is a surprise to me, even when I explain she doesn't have enough money for everything that her eye alights upon. She gets a plant for herself, a pot of chrysanthemums for her mum, a Winnie-the-Pooh ceramic money box to paint, a packet of everything she needs to create a wooden spoon family, and a create-you-own-fairy-doll set for her sister. It was my suggestion she gets something for her sister because I knew she'd be jealous otherwise.

Back home she eats the chicken and sausage after nuking them, and I make some food for myself, but don't have time to eat it. She starts to paint her Pooh, but it's time to go get Oldest from school.

We arrive just in time and the only parking space to be found is outside the parent's office. On the short walk to the office, I notice Oldest being out of sorts and I ask her what the matter is. She won't say, so I suggest she's jealous of her sister, 'cos she's been home all day. She's reluctant to admit it until I tell her it's OK 'cos it's normal. She brightens up after that, happy to have her feelings validated. Of course we visit mum as we do every day at this time and there's the usual "Can I stay at the office?" question. But on mention of the present awaiting her at home, Oldest changes her mind and is eager to go.

Arriving at home Oldest enthusiastically starts creating her fairy doll whilst still in her coat! Youngest opens her wooden spoon family package and asks for help. "I'm going to be in the kitchen having something to eat and a cup of tea, so if you want help, why don't you come into the kitchen?"

Neither girl moves so I go and have a break, suddenly feeling tired. Youngest comes in and continues painting her Pooh money box.

She wants two fried eggs on bread and waits until I finish eating before climbing onto the counter so she can crack the egg in the pan. Her mother won't let her do this because she might get shell in the pan, but I think that if she does, she'll learn to do better next time. Yesterday she managed to break both yolks but today they were intact. She even managed to transfer it unbroken to her bread!

Oldest had her chicken, sausage and sweetcorn but gave the sausage rolls to Youngest. Of course they had to all be nuked.

Oldest had asked for help in the beginning, but then said "I've got the hang of it."

Youngest wanted the Velveteen Rabbit to play through the TV, but I don't know how to do that because Emma couldn't tell me because she didn't know. Youngest then chooses the TV over the Velveteen Rabbit and is excited to see the film Bolt on the Disney channel.

Oldest wants help to put the hair on her fairy doll like in the picture, but I can't work out how to do it. She works out her own way and it's very good; just like the picture. Youngest wants help to make a wooden spoon person but I don't do much because I'm mesmerised by the TV. She makes a really good person after all with no help.

A drama ensues when Oldest alerts me to the fact that one of the kittens is eating her chicken bone. I leap into action and try and get the bone from him as it's dangerous for cats to eat them, due to it splintering easily. The cat has his jaws firmly on the bone and, not wanting to get bitten, I decide to not force his jaws apart but shake him and he lets me remove the object. Youngest, whose kitten it is, is upset by the picture of me shaking the cat and rushes upstairs shouting at me. I can't find her. She's good at hiding, so I call to her reassuring her the cat was OK and I wasn't harming him, but trying to help him. I leave her to calm down on her own and go to wash the dishes.

They ask to go outside so I suggest they tidy up the lounge. They do a good job. I insist they put warm coats on and they have fun bouncing on the enormous (of course), trampoline. They also have a climbing and swing set that they

availed themselves of this too. Mum comes home to find me trying to persuade Youngest to take her roller skates off whist on the tramploine.

Phew! I hand over responsibility.