Things 2

Oh, look, I have however-long-it-takes-Steve-to-cook-chilli to myself and a book group read I'm simultaneously trying to finish as quickly as I can (because it's rubbish) and avoid reading altogether (because it's rubbish).

So: time to write.

What do I have to tell you?

The Big Thing

The eldest started school nursery just over a week ago.

She is LOVING it.

At least, I assume she is because she really, really, really wants to go back every day - all she's actually told me is "I had cucumber" and "I went on the slide two times". Luckily, there are photos and bits of artwork all over the walls plus some online diary thing the teachers Early Years Practitioners fill in to give me some idea of what she gets up to for three hours every afternoon. It looks like a lot of fun.

She also has a new best friend called "that girl who's my friend". I feel like we can now never move away from this neighbourhood.

Which brings me to:

New Downstairs Neighbours

We have some. They're students but things must have changed since my day because they're pleasant and apologised profusely when we asked them to stop filling our home with the scent of illegal substances. They now smoke the illegal substances outside, after dark, and, as a result, were able to tell us about the hedgehogs living in our overgrown garden before we inadvertently shoved a spade into the middle of their nest.

So that's all good.

But I'm responding to having new neighbours in the same way I always do: fantasy shopping houses on the local real estate website and wondering which of our friends I can talk into buying our current place. Any takers...?

Baby Allergy Progress Report

We've found a couple of things she reacts to; we've found a couple of things she doesn't; our calendar is filled with carefully timetabled three day food trials.

I'm a lot less stressed about the whole thing than I was but I'm finding the "what can I actually feed her?" question so tricky I'm finally seeing the appeal of meal planning. Her lunches are generally potato waffles and her breakfasts are a random selection of melty puffs; it's far from a balanced diet.

Things we have had to write in her food diary recently: crayon (yellow); wool (torn from a rug by a cat); sparkly hair bobbles; stickers; sneakily pilfered cake crumbs crammed full of dairy.

The hardest part of the whole thing is keeping an eye on her big sister's discarded cheese wrappers, yoghurt pots and buttery toast crusts. The kid sheds potential food allergens behind her like... like... nope, sorry, can't think of a one-liner at such short notice.

Seriously, isn't that chilli ready yet?!

It's Totally Fine to Talk About Finances

Yesterday, I was surprised to receive a tax rebate cheque for £114 and I whooped and started fantasising about having real actual totally existing warm clothes to wear this winter.

Then the boiler broke down. Yeah.

And then I got a letter from the tax office telling me that I owe them £112. Which I'm sure I paid not-last-February-but-the-February-before.

So: how do I find out what's going on without wasting any of my precious few quiet moments on the phone to the tax office?

I fear the answer to that is "You can't".


The kitchen radio has just gone quiet. Chilli and wine must be on the way. Happy weekend to you all.

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