I had to find the manual release for ours this morning. I’d put some damp running kit in for a short dry, and the machine went on like I’d insulted its entire lineage and spat in its drawer, then sulked and refused to do anything but flash a pointed lock symbol at me. Arse of a machine.

I loved that book. I’ve still got it on my shelves. I did look at it while sorting out books recently and think I’d never seen anything else from her.

My sister in law, on the other hand, is now deeply confused about my wasps. Considering sending partner’s rowing updates to his mum, just so everyone is entirely up to speed.

I am now fully updated about what I am up to.

I remember going to a colleague’s house with my two older boys when they were little. When they discovered eating like this was an option, they both turned and looked at me, like ‘And you were going to tell us about this when?’ It was clear they thought forks had been imposed just to piss them off.

I had this exact conversation yesterday. My particular favourite is when they’re all ‘I’m dyyyyyyyying’ while thrashing about on the edge of the sill of the enormous open window. And you flick them out and they come back and resume their operatic demise. ‘Noooo, nothing to be done. Dyyyyying!’

It happens.

I mean, I made it. It just seemed to take a lot longer than it should have done. And the pitch black bit between houses went on long enough that I was starting to get a little bit edgy…

You know there’s a festival happening at the weekend called Voidspace Live. I can put in a good word with the organiser…

Maybe he could train the birds to PLEASE BE QUIET!