I see that despite the football, University Challenge is back. I’m videoing it. I told one of my colleagues this [the one from Northern Ireland, she is entirely unlike anyone else I’ve ever met from the North, if she were in charge there, it wouldn’t be “Ulster says NO†it would be, “Ulster says ‘oh alright, go on then, if you want’â€. I digress]. She said “Oh, my God, what nerds, you are videotaping University Challenge!†Pause. “I like to watch it liveâ€. Mind you, I’m glad that I didn’t given her extra ammunition by telling her that we were going to spend the bulk of our evening organising our Summer holidays on a spread sheet. Look, it’s complex: the creche is closed for a month, the Princess has 9 weeks off school and our childminder is going to the Philippines for 5 weeks. Is there anything as dull as other people’s childcare arrangements? Perhaps I should stop while I still can.
Swings and roundabouts
Her: Look Mummy, it’s a photograph of you!
Me: On the CD cover?
Her: There, there!
Me: That’s Julia Roberts. [Is it necessary to say that I do not in any way whatsoever resemble Julia Roberts?  Also, please don’t despise us for having the CD of songs from “Mona Lisa Smile†].
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Me: What do you think of my new top?
Her: It’s not pretty.
Me: Why not?
Her: It’s got no sparkles. And it’s not pink.
Me: Hmm, but still.
Her (relentlessly): And it makes you look fat. [Is it necessary to say that I am sensitive to any criticism that may be made on this point, however ill-informed; please witness previous dialogue for an illustration of my daughter’s powers of observation].
No, really, no.
From yesterday’s Irish Times birth announcements:
“TOMKIN and CLARKE – Sarah, Oisin, Isaac, Cosmo, Dashiell, Chaos and Massimo are delighted to announce the birth of Bamford Ultimo..”
I am woman, hear me roar.
Her: I’m a baby tiger and you’re a mummy tiger
Me: Roar.
Her: I’m a baby cat and you’re a mummy cat
Me: Miaow
Her: I’m a baby dog and you’re a mummy dog
Me: Outraged silence (quite hard to do)
I dreamt I dwelt in marble halls…
…because marble doesn’t creak like wooden floorboards.   Every time I go past the boys’ room to get to ours, the floor creaks alarmingly and, nine times out of ten it wakes them up. Just like everything else. Alas.
Keeping up with the post-millenial Joneses
The Observer had a cartoon a while back where these guys in a coffee shop are chatting and one says to the other “So, half way through dinner she googled me on her blackberry and found my ex-girlfriend’s blog so that was pretty much thatâ€. His friend replies “do you know that three of those terms didn’t even exist five years ago?â€
So, I was playing with the computer and I saw this post from Fluid Pudding and I said to my loving spouse “guess what Jeff gave Angela?â€. And he said “eh, who, what?†because he is not as up on my computer stalkees as I would like. “A ticket to the blogHer thingy†I said. And he said “eh, who, what?†and I explained that it was this conference that everyone was going to and I would like to go too and he looked at me blankly. “Off you go then, nobody’s stopping youâ€.  There are times when this whole independent woman thing palls. Somehow, I feel that I will not be going to California at the end of July.
