If you hear something repeated often enough, it often starts to develop deeper meanings for you…. Whether that’s a catchy song that grows on you or a favourite film that seems to get better each time you see it.

There’s a lot of repetition involved in children’s entertainment. Especially 2 year olds. They never seem to get tired of hearing the same things over and over again. Whether that’s the story of the Very Hungry Caterpillar or the phrases of Mickey mouse coming from the aeroplane toy he rides around the kitchen.

It’s tempting to think these simple verses are all the same, and at first I thought they were… just simple words and phrases designed to hold kids interest.

But the more I hear it, the more respect I’ve got for the very hungry caterpillar… On the face of it, it’s just a few sentences about a caterpillar eating various fruit and then turning into a butterfly. But as you hear it more and more (and believe me, I have), you realise that on top of the simple repetition, there’s teaching about numbers and counting, about the days of the week, about change and the processes of nature, the sun and the moon, and there’s even a message about healthy eating.

But on top of that, it doesn’t talk down – it uses long words (butterfly, caterpillar), and difficult concepts (metamorphosis, getting ill from eating too much). And it doesn’t bypass things just because its audience won’t immediately understand them. It makes them work, and they respond to it- or at least George does – with enthusiasm and passion.

And it does all of this in a form that’s so economical with words and meanings that it’s a kind of poetry.


Contrast that with the Mickey mouse aeroplane toy - whose words are basically just sales pitches for disney’s empire. Constant mentions of the names of other characters in the Disney franchise are all you really get from it. The lyrics of his theme song are particularly good:

M-I-C-K-E-Y- M-O-U-S-E
Mickey mouse
Mickey mouse
Mickey mouse
Mickey mouse

…and so on.

All toddler’s literature is not the same.

I haven’t been sleeping too well this week. I keep waking up in the night, and I have to assume I’m worrying about the new baby. Not that I shouldn’t be – it’s within 2 weeks of its designated arrival date, and by all accounts it’s going to drop a nuclear bomb in the middle of our lives, changing everything in ways we can’t even imagine.

Except I’m not actually waking up thinking about that. The problem is, there’s nothing to think about – the baby’s not here yet, and what it will bring with it is beyond speculation… on a conscious level, it’s hardly entering my mind at all – because there’s really nothing I can do, forsee or plan for.

Instead I’m waking up thinking about when I can go and see Andrew’s new flat (which he finally got the keys to last week). I’m thinking about work and whether I need to hire a salesman to go out and get my work known to TV companies, and whether if I do, it’ll result in me spending all my working day doing pitches for work I don’t actually want and won’t get anyway. I’m going through the lyrics of songs I can’t remember (for some reason whenever I wake up I have a few lines of a random song running over and over through my head – and usually it’s not even a song I like).

I’m trying to solve a problem my friend Raoul (who turned up from Switzerland at the weekend because he was at a paleontological conference in Bristol) put to me over a Jamacan meal. He wanted to devise a way to work out when a fossil was found somewhere in the world, where that part of the world would have been 500 million years ago when the fossil was deposited. (I decided there was a way, and it involved the same kind of maths that’s used to morph one person’s face into another in special effects work – but I didn’t want to be deciding that at 2am).

Only rarely am I actually waking up for a good reason (like the fact on Monday at 2am that our next door neighbour’s new alarm system suddenly decided to ring for an hour).

So that’s what I’m thinking. In the meantime, Lisa is sleeping like a log. Partially, I think because she’s more and more tired all the time. It’s her last day at work on Friday and that won’t be a day too late.

I say only partially because I think her perception of the new baby is very different from mine. From my point of view, the new baby appears in the world in a couple of weeks, and that’s when everything changes.

For her, the new baby is already here. Every moment, it’s quite literally right in front of her. She’s been living with the new baby as a reality for months now, and if anything it’s actual delivery will mean it’s making less of an impact on her life than it is now…

There’s a saying that if you want something done, you should ask a busy person. I think I probably qualify.

So, for the last four years I’ve been looking after a flat for a friend who’s living abroad and wants to rent the place out. As time’s gone on it’s got harder and harder to deal with and (not helped by the fact that the tenant turned the place into a S&M dungeon and didn’t pay any of the bills), somewhere along the line it became less a job (my friend paid me a few pounds for looking after the flat) and more of a favour. An indicator, I suppose of just how much my life has changed in the last four years.

It’s got to the stage now where I have less and less time to devote to the place and need to hand it back to her… (to be honest, it was probably a mistake carrying on with it after the first year I agreed to manage it – I wouldn’t consider acting as agent for a property I owned, so what made me think I should do it for someone else’s I’m not sure). And it’s become a problem for me and for her.

Now, the actual business of acting as an agent shouldn’t be that hard – just a few phone calls here and there and the odd visit to make sure everything’s going OK – or so you’d think - so what is it that makes it impossible for me to find the time to do it?

I find time to do extra pieces of work when they come my way. I find time to do all kinds of things I don’t plan to do – and it seems to work. So what is it that transforms what should be a few easy tasks into something I just can’t find the time to do?

Maybe it’s more finding mental space rather than time. If I’ve got lots of things on my plate, I tend to make lists – when something comes in, I don’t necessarily do it immediately, but I do decide when I’m going to do it and leave a note for myself in my diary. Even if it’s something like “make a decision” or “send someone an email” That way, I can safely forget about it and it won’t be cluttering up my mind in the meantime. A lot of stuff that doesn’t go in the diary, I do forget about, or delay for months – sometimes forever… calling people, doing admin, birthdays, etc.

But on the other hand, a lot of stuff I don’t put in the diary does get done. I found the mental space to think up a new recipe for Lisa and I for dinner on Wednesday (king prawn bloody mary cocktail followed by spaghetti with beetroot and a watercress pesto – very nice actually). I manage to do this blog. I manage to find the time for all kinds of stuff...

On Monday, when I was out running, it was getting dark. I realised I was all alone in the park except for a fox, some bats and a woman out walking a weasel (no joke). I got half way round before I discovered that the part of the park I was in had been closed. The gates locked (I’ve no idea why – there are no gates at the other side, so locking the gates serves no purpose). I had to run all the way back round to get out.

The point being that despite spending five minutes or so stumbling about in the dark trying to find a way out, my running time was the same as usual and I got back in time for University challenge… Somehow, I found the time because I wanted to.

So perhaps that’s it. Perhaps the reason it’s impossible to find time to deal with my friend’s flat is quite simply that I don’t want to do it. And having lots and lots of other things on my plate just means I feel justified.

Then again, I don’t just do things I enjoy. Mostly, I grant you, but not exclusively – and a lot of things I really want to do I can’t find time for either.

I think the real reason is that I really resent jobs that overrun. When I can’t get the job done in the time I think it justifies, I really start to get annoyed with it. And renting a property is one of those jobs that never can be scheduled. Almost everything you have to do on it is unexpected and additional and everything is (to everyone but you) an emergency. Anything that’s not an emergency is trivial and ends up being put off (by everyone involved) until it becomes one.

Which, I suppose, answers my specific question about the flat, but not the general one of how I – as someone who undoubtedly has a busy life – manages to fit everything in that needs to be done.

And the answer to that, I’m afraid, is that I don’t. Things do go missing out of my mental and physical filing systems. Jobs do get postponed either because I don’t want to do them or sometimes because I do. A lot of stuff gets done, and a lot of stuff doesn’t. juggling lots of balls just means it’s more acceptable when you drop some.

So I suppose, if you want something done, ask a busy person. But make it something concrete and definable, not expanding and open ended. And try to have a plan “b”….

George had his first real full on tantrum last week – 12:30 in the morning he’d given up trying to sleep and decided to scream the place down. I took him to our room and sent Lisa to his because she had to work in the morning. It wasn’t the best timing as Sam was recovering upstairs from a tooth operation.

The restoration of Lisa’s “new” house in Worthing is slowly grinding on – despite Lisa’s mum’s valiant efforts, the refurbishment has now taken a year. The next door neighbour has been the main hold-up - complaining about problems Lisa is trying to fix which were actually caused by the previous owners, and making things more difficult for herself in the process.

Andrew is having completely different problems trying to buy his flat in Grimsby – with the vendor’s solicitor delaying things by not bothering to forward information at almost every stage, and Andrew’s own solicitor apparently deciding he knows what Andrew wants to do better than Andrew does, and refusing to carry out his instructions. In the meantime, Andrew is forced to live in a lorry in a car-park. Not ideal, but not unusual in house-buying.

We, on the other hand had last weekend away – staying at a B&B run by a friend of my Mum’s in Norfolk. It was actually our Christmas present from my parents – and it’s taken us this long to get around to going… but it was lovely. The owners looked after George so we could go out in the evening, and we had a really relaxing time. We even got to visit my parents on the way back…


I went to Russ’ Mum’s funeral this Monday. She died after a short stay in a hospice. Russ and Pietro came over later in the week. I think both of them are having a tough time right now…

Went to see the Walking With Dinosaurs live show at the Milenium dome at the weekend. Not for my own benefit, you understand – it was Ethan’s birthday present and as Lisa’s his Godmother…

It was basically robot dinosaurs running around an arena while an actor playing the part of a time travelling palaeontologist tried to enthuse the audience about footprints and fossil dung… But really good despite that. The dinosaurs were surprisingly well done – and were very nimble for remote controlled animatronics. We were a long way up, so didn’t get much of a feeling of scale, but Ethan enjoyed it.

The dome itself never ceases to disappoint – Ethan thought it could do with a bit of colour. I thought it could do with some transport links as we and 20,000 others tried to get on the only bus back to civilisation. We’d taken the boat on the way in, but it was chaos – an entire wedding party was left stranded on the quay. Having been told they had tickets booked, they arrived to find there was no room on any of the boats into the city. We eventually got home using a creative combination of bus, train and taxis…

Anyway – our 3rd wedding anniversary was this week – apparently the traditional way to mark this is with a gift of leather…. Though I’m not sure quite what’s intended by that.

We marked it with a meal in on the night, and we’re having a night out together on Saturday – which will be nice.

I’ve just heard today of the debate that’s sweeping America about the future of healthcare and how bad the NHS is. As far as I can see, free universal healthcare is what they call in the US, a no-brainer, but regardless of the rights and wrongs of the new plan, I’m frankly astounded by what passes for debate - how the kind of laughable inaccuracies I’ve heard today manage to replace proper argument in the US, I can’t imagine. Hearing the level and quality of argument over this issue, I really have to take my hat off to anyone who manages to remain thoughtful and level headed in that environment.

We took George to see his lion at the weekend. We sponsored a lion for him at safari park near Canterbury for his first birthday and this was our first chance to go and see the beast. George, of course loved it, going right up to the window onto the lion enclosure. As the lion followed him around throwing itself at the glass, leaping up trying to scrape its way through to eat him, George simply stood there giggling and roaring back at it.

We always tell children that animals are more scared of people than we are of them, but I can’t help feeling there should be exceptions.

But that wasn’t “his” lion. His lion was in another enclosure – it turns out to have had a birth defect and has a pronounced limp which means it can’t be kept with the others.

George can say lots of words now – and if you ask him whether he can say something he’ll usually give it a pretty good go.

Spent the rest of the weekend with Sarah in Canterbury – the first time we’d seen her new house - always good to see her.. As a dietician, she’s entertainingly incensed by everything that’s said about nutrition in the media. She’s also a breath of fresh air when it comes to the mess of conflicting advice on what you can and can’t eat when pregnant…

Went out with Russ, Pietro and Ellen on Monday – primarily to cheer Russ up as he’s going through a tough time with his Mum. We did our best, and I think he’s at least had a good night out… Sam’s flatmate is moving out – and it seems to have become acrimonious for no good reason… just one of those times when a combination of tiny things snowballs into something bigger… anyway, we’ll now discover whether Sam’s chickens are a plus point or a minus point for new tenants when she starts advertising the vacant room….

Over the last couple of weeks, I’ve actually been running my running course for the first time – by which I mean, not breaking into a walk every so often. There’s a path up though Peckham rye park – used only by joggers and just wide enough for one. When I first started I struggled along it, constantly dodging out of the way of other joggers as they overtook me. I consoled myself that everyone has their own pace and they’re all running to their own (shorter) courses. It wasn’t that they were just much fitter than me.

Now, I’ve noticed I’m running with more confidence. The other joggers see me on the path from a long way ahead and some even get out of MY way… plus I’m overtaking people now… not on purpose, but they’re obviously running their own, (longer) courses…

The result is that I’ve knocked 5 minutes off my time – so that’s five minutes more I can spend gasping on the floor like a stranded fish.

the weekend before last we went to the Southwalk village fete in Herne Hill –much bigger than the village fetes I remember where the biggest attraction was trying to throw a wooden hoop around a 2nd hand china figurine…. Sally and Colin and the four boys came up for the event and I joked to Sally that the park was the ideal middle ground if the Peckham gangs and the Brixton gangs wanted to have a fight.

After we left, apparently that’s exactly what happened… there are lots of blurry phone-cam pictures on youtube of the police evacuating the park. However, I’m not sure the coverage of the event was accurate. The reports said the police commandeered a 37 bus to block the road, but I can’t believe that.

They’d have had to find one first.



Lisa got up last Tuesday morning and suddenly found she felt so weak she could hardly stand up. She did the sensible thing, of course and went to work anyway! The doctor diagnosed anaemia (apparently very common for pregnant women) due to a lack of iron.

I think we generally have a pretty good diet – considering I don’t eat meat so Lisa tends to eat it rarely (although, following government guidelines it has to be cooked through, so rarely but well done) – but I cooked her a steak for tea, and we’ve been having spinach with everything all week. My first time cooking steak, but it seemed to work!

Anyway, she’s much better now – and I have told her not to go to work if she’s ill. Of course, she’ll go anyway….


Lucinda’s new baby

Sam’s gone off to see Lucinda in Berne this week – leaving us to keep her chickens away from her cats – and it seems she went just in time. Lucinda gave birth last night (2 weeks early) to a baby girl. Giancarlo had just left for a wedding in Italy and ended up missing both the wedding and the birth…

We, on the other hand have a constant supply of eggs from what George calls the “chick chicks”

We went to a restaurant with George at the weekend and ordered him the kids meal. When it arrived, it was chicken. “chick chick” he happily said before tucking in.

I don’t think he’s going to be a vegetarian.


George is counting everything he sees now. Although nine appears to be his favourite number and can appear anywhere in a sequence. Often several times. He’s also developing sarcasm.

This week when Lisa was at work, he called me Mummy. When I pointed out that I was in fact Daddy, he simply repeated “Mummy” and then laughed. He then spent the rest of the day calling me Mummy.


Running
I’ve lost weight through running. Last time I hopped on some scales (while waiting for Lisa being scanned at the hospital I was 90kg – which is about 14 stone in real money…. And I’m probably a bit less than that now – a quick check on google tells me that makes my body mass index 25.4 -which is still just overweight, but fine really… I’m not sure I trust the BMI thing completely – it seems a bit arbitrary to be a judge of anything to me.

Anyway, running isn’t about weight anymore for me – I mean, OK – it’s good to be able to have puddings and tempura without worrying about it, but now it’s got more to do with redundancy:

A lot of the time, it’s really easy to end up living your life at fill speed. You feel as though you’re running flat out all the time – coping with things as they come up, but not having the extra capacity to cope with anything unexpected – either in terms of time, money or energy. It’s as though there’s a view at the moment that if you’re not working absolutely at the edges of your capacity all the time, there’s something wrong.

But, as the financial crash proved, that doesn’t work very well because you’re never prepared for things to change. I want to know that if I decide to step on the accelerator (or the break) in any area of my life that something will actually happen. Just as you need to have something in reserve in your savings account in case you get an unexpected bill, it’s worth having something in reserve in terms of energy for if your life suddenly gets more tiring…

As I’m expecting it to sometime in the middle of October.

I need to have some redundancy. When the new baby is making me so tired I don’t know who I am, I want to know that I’m just a little bit fitter. Plus, of course, I’ll know if I’m really tired I can make my life a bit easier by not going running.

All of which sounds a bit like saying it’s a good idea to hit yourself repeatedly over the head with a plank of wood because it’s nice when you stop.



Anyway, the result of running is that I’ve lost weight and I know that even though I don’t weigh myself very often because when Lisa and I went out to dinner on Wednesday, I realised that I’ve lost my wedding ring. It’s fallen off and I’ve no idea where.

Aside from the short trip to the restaurant (about 200 yards) I hadn’t left the house all day, so I’m fairly sure it’s somewhere in the house… but I’ve looked everywhere I can think of to no avail…