main blogorrhoea	Wednesday, June 29 lingering looks Having sworn to buy no more clothes until we return home, yesterday I accidentally succumbed to a purple sparkly Wonderbra. Constructed, what's more, to a non-bovine spec. Life is good. Sunday, June 26 whither whittlesford? With the London to Cambridge looming large (links to sponsorship page above, hint hint), we decided to combine a serious training blat with a family picnic at Audley End. To which, um, end, I set off on ToughGirl and cycled some twenty miles Essexwards, by way of singletrack roads across some fairly splendid rolling countryside where the wheat was just on the turn from green to gold and the fields fringed with scarlet poppies. Met Jack and Rebecca for a picnic and a squizz at the parterre garden, where we found the rosebushes, bare and dry on our previous visit, now loaded with pink and white, heavily scented flowers. Return bike journey interrupted by a slight mechanical, but fortunately Jack was still close to hand and managed to twiddle her into submission. Forty miles all up: bang on another ten and I'll be good to go in four weeks time. (Go on, sponsor me - you know you want to!) Saturday, June 25 two legs knackered Rebecca's been bipedal for nigh on three months now: remarkable the effect wrangling an inquistive and increasingly zippy toddler can have on one's speed, endurance, strength and general fitness. Am now considering hiring her out by the hour as an alternative to gym membership, but as usual pesky child labour laws will probably put paid to my cunning scheme. Current sizzling topic of debate in the Williams Elder household is whether Little Cook Small is a figment of Big Cook Ben's drug-fuelled imagination. Tuesday, June 21 midsummer night's dream Latest big news the timely arrival of wee Daniel M-J, who considerately decided to emerge in time to meet his grandparents, due to fly back to the Southern Hemisphere at the end of next week. Welcome Danny! and yay! Sarah and Pete. First batch of photos of the youngster arrived last night, hot off the digital camera. Now, as I wouldn't dream of reproducing these here without permission, here's a quick précis: Dad's face bears that expression unique to all new dads of incredulous joy, with a faint tinge of bewilderment, while Junior's plainly says 'WTF just happened?? Where'd all this space and stuff come from???' As for Mum, she is, as so often the case, a shadowy and exhausted presence, and I can't say I blame her either. Saturday, June 18 bizzy backson The other week as I was sitting in the garden with my book (notice that I don't say that I was actually reading it) Rebecca brought me a rusty nail and a half-chewed daisy. Now if I were Adrienne Rich or someone I'd probably be able to write an incredibly deep poem about the mother-daughter bond based on this incident but seeing as how it's just me I deftly confiscated the nail and said 'Thank you Becca - a daisy. Dai-sy,' to which she replied 'Deth-thee... deth-theeeee... deth-thee!' Moments later she returned bearing a fist-sized (her fist) rock. 'Deth-thee,' she explained, and tottered off. We're off to Kent for the first of a flurry of second birthdays. Friday, June 17 The inability to spell is not a character flaw. The inability to spell is not a character flaw. The inability to spell is not a character flaw. The inability to spell is not a character flaw. The inability to spell is not a character flaw. The inability to spell is not a character flaw... Thursday, June 16 room that echoes Becca's game of the last three days is to turn around and around and around on the spot until her eyes rotate in opposite directions, like a dazed chameleon, and she topples over. And if you catch her eye and twirl your finger at her, she'll do it again. Tuesday, June 14 result! On the first day of viewing, to the second viewer, at the asking price. Now the fun begins... an infinite number of monkeys Yesterday as I was pushing her along in her stroller, Becca crooned the first few notes of 'Twinkle Twinkle Little Star'. This morning she snatched my Collins pocket Spanish dictionary off the bookshelf in the bedroom, riffled through it in the usual way, and after a few moments remarked: 'Nada'. I know that these are random glimmerings, but I still want to remember. Thursday, June 9 tough girl rides forth How could I fail to mention that the weekend also saw my inaugural ride on Tough Girl, the road bike my husband-in-a-million has spent the last few months lovingly building up for me? Verdict: not only is she a thing of elegant, burnished beauty, but she goes like the absolute bloody clappers. London to Cambridge, here I come! Wednesday, June 8 not rhetorical If you were almost fifteen months old but already possessed of extreme cunning, where would you hide half of your mother's favourite pair of trainers? caveat Am starting to resemble that chick from Desperate Housewives who never brushes her hair. And if Becca's Destroyer of Worlds phase lasts much longer, I may even end up as thin as her too. (Do I hear a very feeble 'Amen!'?) Tuesday, June 7 and this is my friend sandy As of last night the house is now officially on the market, as the man came around to put the sign up in the front garden just as we were off to the thee-atre, dontcha know. 'Viewings by appointment only' (wait until autumn sets in and no doubt we'll be dragging prospective emptors in off the streets). Evening's entertainment was Round The Horne Revisited, a staged performance of the recording of the original radio show, with actors taking the roles of the original participants. Beautifully done, and the guy playing Kenneth Williams shamelessly upstaged everyone else, which only added to the authenticity. Must dash - we have a playdate this morning. That's right, a bloody playdate. Monday, June 6 bang to rights Jack informs me that the preceding description of the recent shoplifting incident gives the impression that it happened while he was out with Rebecca. Now, I prefer to think that I left such questions of blame enticingly ambiguous, but in case any reader may have inferred that this disgraceful incident took place on Daddy's watch, let me state for the record that it was me, I, the Mummy, was out with her, it was my fault, all my fault, and what's more I suspect that it will be thus for decades to come. fingersmith Becca's career as a Dickensian street urchin got off to a promising start last week - after a visit to the corner shop, Jack discovered, secreted her stroller, a rather mangled pack of sugarfree gum. Happily she didn't seem to have swallowed any (but my word, she was minty fresh). Weekend's social event was Alex's birthday Myths and Legends party. Jack put on a big shirt and went as a dashing pirate; I toyed with the idea of taking a supersoaker and coming as female ejaculation, but in the end decided to get myself up in a New Look fifties outfit with a frilly apron and pearls and a jar of pink and blue Mother's Little Helpers ('take TWO with each martini: avoid cognition') and go as a perfect wife and mother. Although as photos will confirm, I ended up looking more like Minnie Mouse that Bree Van De Kamp. Friday, June 3 sponge-brain square-eyes Do my ears deceive me, or I just hear Alan Titchmarsh on CBeebies murmuring, in his seductive Northern tones, 'Let's get mucky!'? Eeeh, Alan, ya cheeky beggar!* Yesterday at our friendly neighbourhood soulless shopping precinct, Rebecca met a large bipedal creature called (apparently) Sponge Bob Squarepants. Although I think she thought he was a giant cheese. (Ssssh - so did Mummy.) *OK so he's doing the voice for the new BBC series Gordon the Garden Gnome, and yes, I am becoming not merely a Desperate but a Deranged Housewife. Thursday, June 2 my work here is done So The Scientists are exploring links between the hormone oxytocin and trust, and its potential applications in the treatment of autism. Incidentally, oxytocin is the hormone that kickstarts the birth process, and is also involved in lactation. Hmmm. This may explain why I didn't go into labour naturally, and had difficulty breastfeeding. For I am one of the most mistrustful individuals you will be given an appraising glance by. See? I knew there was I way I could make the whole thing my fault! Wednesday, June 1 air on a cheese-string Took my poor neglected fiddle to the workshop ten minutes up the road (which I finally entered the other week, a mere five years after moving here) and treated it to a new bridge and some clean horsehair. Hadn't touched it in at least three years, what with the PhD and then motherhood to keep me amused, so it was with some trepidation that I put Rebecca in her playpen and started to practise at her. She didn't seem to mind - at least there were no howls for mercy, not even when I hit the E string. And then an all too familiar expression began to work its way across her face. *Sigh* I bet you Stéphane Grappelli didn't have to break off halfway through rehearsal sessions to change mucky nappies. Previously, in h-blog

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