Monthly Archives: June 2014


We sing constantly. It’s one of my core skills as a mum. Just decided though that we need to stop Monkey Music classes. It’s sad but while little boy enjoys the entertainment he doesn’t participate. He also actively disrupts the class for other more patient children who sit down (gasp) for most the class.

Had great fun using Spotify playlists just singing at home. He makes us both giggle by bouncing up and down and he has started to sing, I think? He’s working on “BaaBaa”at the moment, “RowRow”is another favourite. I’m hoping to get a video when it’s grandparent-ready (you know showing it around to everyone good).


Jeans dilemma

You know when you have to choose between going out in your jeans with poo on or jeans with dirt from housework on? No? Just me then.

A low today standing up nappy change in the bathroom because couldn’t be bothered to fight lying down. He just tried to escape and rubbed right against me. Deep joy!

Back to the sticker book strategy.


Nothing so heart wrenching as seeing little boy in pain. Crying out, hitting his head. Currently going through bottles of the pink elixir. Teething is often a low for me, I just feel so helpless.

I suppose a high could be that we got through it. During the day had to give several soothing cuddles, medicine and episode RaaRaa. Half way through the episode he’s usually ready to wriggle off my lap and play. Miracle cure.

The Clock Strikes Six

Why bother write your own posts when others say it so brilliantly

The Iron Tongue of Midnight


After Sonnet 66 (the angry one with lots of “and”s)

Tired of all these, for deathly rest I moan,
scratching off my days like losing scratchcards,
& travelcards are void in distant zones
& oven chips & posh shops snare our bards
& airwaves sag with karaoke waifs
& tabloids thrive on xenophobia
& masterpieces fade in tycoons’ safes
& HD screens create myopia
& youtube doggeralists reap all the clicks
& bankers spend a nurses wage in bars
& oceans froth with spillages and slicks
but I’d endure them if the fates allow
my wife and child to sleep another hour.


Shakespeare invited
death at the beginning of
his sonnet. I pass.


The sun peers back
through glinting morning haze
finally eclipsing the dead glow
of my laptop screen


A lone car crosses
paths with a man in high vis
on Waterloo Bridge



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