Small people, small pleasures.

I absolutely knew this was going to happen.

Possibly all that guff about spending more time with your small child means you have a better understanding of them is true. Although half the time I have no idea what Ida is saying. People look at me inquiringly for a translation and I have to pretend I’ve got something in my eye.

I’m inserting a picture here. It’s very dark – should have used a flash…

The darkness suits my mood… What we’re looking at people is a curtain rail that was already slightly fragile being affixed as it was by some inadequate screws, no-nails and hope, now barely holding up the curtains *cough* curtain linings.

I’d relaxed as a few days had passed since the show but it turns out she was biding her time and I caught her this morning swinging wildly from said curtain, near the rail, upside down like a fruit bat. “I fly! I fly!” Now the rail is hanging off.

Delighted as I am that they’ve embraced the circus dream the damage limitation is getting a little old.

 I scared the hell out of Steve last night by sharing the history of one of the little scars on my ribs – the bath Alice and I took just after I’d finished reading Moby Dick where Alice and I pretended to harpoon each other. With the sharp knives from the cooking drawer. We have nearly identical scars and my mum had an actual meltdown and a weekend in her darkened bedroom with us tiptoeing around and bringing her special soothing herbal teas.

It all lies ahead of us. Can’t wait.

On a more cheerful note I stopped off for some buttons on the way home today. My tin is getting low and a nearby shop has a brilliant stock of old button bought up in stock clearances. Every now and again I get a handful.

I love them. As I’ve said before it’s the small things that please me the most.