Opening the door

I've been being nagged a bit about not blipping, by some of the last people I would normally expect to do that. I've been wandering about blipworld over the past few weeks, scattering occasional comments. I'm not really sure though why I've not been keeping up to date with my own journal: I've been busy, but not outrageously so; I've not been taking pictures I'm that happy with, but that's nothing new; so maybe I just have to put it down to it being a bit cold in the room where my computer is.

But anyway, I'm back (and the heater's on).

Today could turn out to be a good day for a catch up. It has all the makings of being one of those days when nothing happens. After last night's festivities, we all had a late morning start, some later than others. When I staggered downstairs, every bowl in the kitchen was filled with some sort of batter mix. All the kids had had a go and various soggy lumps of floury milk sat, half-cooked, on plates with kids stubbornly calling them pancakes. Conor pulled out a cookery book, found a recipe and so he and I worked to that and I (for reasons probably linked to the number of braincells lost last night) used the smallest frying pan in the house to make an endless series of pancakes for them. Meanwhile, Mr B decided to throw the unsuccessful batter (which the kids were calling stationery/stationary batter for reasons I never quite got to the bottom of) in the garden to save clogging up the drains, but in fact only succeeded in throwing it all over himself, including somehow down the back of his neck.

Once he was de-battered, a putative trip into Lavaur to pick up our car was abandonned when it was clear that the Jeep wasn't willing to make the trip. Mr B is blaming my decision to move it from out of the covered parking space and the starter motor (or something) getting wet. Sigh.

Our guests emerged bit by bit while we were having lunch and, after checking capacity to drive with the breathalisers we are now obliged to carry in the car at all times, Mr B and Mr K were pronounced fit to drive (much to my surprise) and headed off to retrieve our working car.

Conor, much recovered from his fever, finally got out of the pjs he put on on Friday night, despite him dressing almost being thwarted by not being able to open his trouser drawer. From the number of notches I had to take in his belt, it is clear not eating for two days has had an effect on his already skinny frame. But he was well enough to head out to play (well wrapped up - so well wrapped up I'm not sure he can actually move his arms) with his friends so that should restore his appetite. Katherine, meanwhile, was mopping her fevered brow with a wet sock and giggling inanely. And I really just want to go back to bed...

But then, the sun has blazed down all day, and this light bursting from Katherine's bedroom door caught my eye and now here I am. The evening promises much snacking on leftovers, some telly and a bit of an early night I think.