threescore

I am reliably informed that these are worth it. My source stinks of swede, but what can I say, so does Ikea.

10. Fingers

9. Archiebear

8. Skwish

7. Bluebear

6. Top of cafetiere

5. Paper

4. Concord Banana Mash

3. Mummy’s fingers

2. Baby spoon

1. Big Left Toe

And, on average, the crew were boys last Sunday. With a baby, priorities do change somewhat.

Yesterday we had another exciting adventure in the story of Lily. We went to see two uncles, two aunts, two Sarahs, four alpacas, six goats, a number of chickens including a scary rooster called Admiral and a fox. We managed the whole day in real nappies. Not me, Lily.

I am thinking I need a daily routine, but when she is busy meeting so many people and travelling around, sleeps and feeds aren’t so easy to maintain. Maybe I’m too laid back. In the past I probably cared about which was the pestle and which was the mortar, but now I’m just happy if they are used to make interesting and/or junior cuisine c/o Lily’s daddy and uncle. Maybe I did know and forgot.

To kick-start my brain back I have decided to reinforce my NT Greek reading, by joining a local group. I am the youngest member and rely on my interlinear still, but have to say the academic social scene is just what I’ve been missing. If weaning continues to be a success I may get to the next few meetings on my own. It would make a change from just philosophising.

in all their various forms.

I let a driver pull out in front of me because he and his passenger both wore baseball caps.

Let me quote a wise uncle of mine on the matter:

So, Happy International Pi Day (at last!)

Personally I’d prefer to call it ‘Put a Dog in your Car’ day, as I have seen three so far. And instead of March, I think ‘Wear a Hat While you Drive’ is more accurate.

Don’t get me started on drivers wearing hats. It is dad’s philosophy, and surprisingly accurate. It is not a Good Thing. Do you need to wear a hat in a car? Really?

3.14thly, dad is doing a course today on Mediterranean Fish Cookery which we bought him for his 60th and which he was not able to do until now. Results to follow, but I’m hoping he is going to show us all how it is done.

I prepared a papaya. Or was it a pawpaw?

Anyway, it had a lot of pips. Perhaps it was a business-minded fruit, out for profit over giving away freebies. Some fruit are just more business oriented, you know.

Some just give their cash away like lottery winners (seedless grapes: so new money). Some make a reasonable return (apples come to mind), and some make a profit while you’re not looking. You know, bananas, that kind of thing.

Ot moonsquirters. Ask dad. He thinks my new-found love for Charlie and Lola books will mean our children grow up learning bad English. But I think he understands why I find them amusing and that I will not ever never bring up children reading badly.

Four and a half years ago I promised to love, honour and obey my husband, so when he placed a veto on my returning to work full-time I did not argue. It was unlikely that anyone could have talked me into it. We have tried to be prudent and allow for a part-time return to work for me. It seemed to make the most sense to us.

I have been getting used to the idea of going back to work, by keeping myself busy and visiting local nurseries.

This week I saw my Head, who told me that he cannot offer me part-time work as he has too many part-timers on the staff. I did not see this coming. Now I have to get used to the idea that I may not be working for a while at school. So I am investigating other ideas. Maybe things are working together for the best. I guess we may (or may not) understand with hindsight. I’d like to write a book with dad. I’d also like to spend time becoming a great mum. I’d also like to work abroad, fly a plane, speak another language fluently and have more children, but all these things are going to have to wait.

Today I did not have baked potatoes ready in time for lunch (there is a long and uninteresting story behind this), but I did have many family members over. I had foresight but circumstances kept interrupting. Yesterday we drove to London without checking the traffic and took 4 hours getting there, but one and a half getting back. I did not have foresight, or food in the car. From now on I will.

Lily, who finds my sister hilarious and laughs at her pulling faces, does not worry about what she will wear tomorrow or even about the hairs on her head. She just gets on with life and having her here is a wonderful learning process. She often sleeps well as she is very calm a lot of the time, but occasionally wakes at night and panics. When she summons me she knows she is safe and will be cared for. So we take one night at a time.

Once upon a time I went shopping with dad last week. We parked in the parent-and-child parking, and as I was not a small child it was convenient that we also had Lily along with us.

Dad bought things like lentils and I bought things like chocolate and Lily didn’t buy anything but helped start conversations.

One of the things we found was a pack of game, such as one might use for making a game pie. (Not to be confused with International Pi day next month, dear reader.)

So very soon after I learnt how to make pastry and cooked a game pie. I did not pass Go and did not collect £200. It was not that sort of game. It was the sort of game where you find shot as you chew and you have to remember not to chew too hard, otherwise you take a chance and pay the dentist £100.

In order to make pastry for the first time in post-pregnancy memory, I had to use 2 egg yolks (the yellow bit) and leave the whites (the clear bit).

My husband, being a Clever Bloke, suggested that I use the remaining whites (still clear) to make a meringue. Ideally while the oven was still warm.

I read what St Delia of Norwich had to say and found the ingredients remarkably straightforward. 2 oz of caster sugar for each egg white (clear). ‘That’s fairly clear’ I thought. I did not think her idea of whisking until the eggs defied gravity suited my lifestyle of listening to a crying baby, so whusk until I felt ready to stop. At this point I added some of the sugar, and then all of it. I whusk and I whusk and I re-read the writings of St Delia and commited them to memory and I realised my error. There was no way I was going to create a meringue this way.

So I poured out the mixture (white) on to baking paper in a gooey line and cooked it. When I opened the oven this morning I discovered a surf board. So that was nice. Except it didn’t look very floaty or strong, and it was a bit little. So perhaps it was a cuttlefish in fact.

Lily covered another 660 miles, this time in three days. It’s about time she learnt to drive, to relieve her exhausted mum and dad.

Some things that happened over the past 660 miles - all firsts for our little girl:

First grace in Hungarian;

First NCP car park;

First drinks party;

First time a man has offered (unsuccessfully) to feed her;

First hotel;

First meeting with maternal great-grandparents and great-great-uncle;

First four star hotel with free upgrade to family room with sea view;

First fire alarm while feeding (complete with two other babies, staff with radios, woman in towel, poodle and amused guests).

Nobody ever publishes books entitled “My Second Book” - is the market missing something? Life isn’t all about firsts. I think Lily has been through 26 counties now. She slept through several. Perhaps future visits will prove more interesting to her than the first.

Months of the year have names. This is a Good Thing. In some countries (especially in Eastern Europe) the months have sensible names referring to the weather and changes in nature.

I would like to see weeks of the year having their own names. This is a Personal Dream. The week of the first daffodil say, or the week oak leaves start falling. Global warming will prevent this dream coming true, I imagine. Or perhaps the education system. We may never welcome the unison chanting of year 1 and 2 pupils through 52 fauna and flora of the British year.

If I had my wish, I would name the week just gone ‘Creme Egg’ week. It is officially open season again and I have managed to fulfil a separate long-term dream to save a previous year’s creme egg until now, in order to find out whether they really do get smaller every year.

In order to do this I may have to secretly weigh an old and a new egg when I get the baby weighed next time. Or maybe design a measuring device to put each egg through, like the spaghetti holes we used to have on kitchen spoons. Or just eat both and see which I preferred.

I woke up this morning to discover two unusual things in my bed.

One was baby-shaped, smelt of milk and kept sucking her fingers.

The other was caked on to the sheets, smelt of Galaxy chocolate and explained the lack of caffeine in my system in overnight feeds. I have no idea how it got there.

Today is a two-load washing day and counting.