Hey Hadrian

Oh. My. Giddy aunt. Just looked out of the window to see the family in the flats across from us – we are blessed with a view into about half a dozen front rooms, and they can see into ours – sitting down to their tea, mum dad and son, the two boys naked from the waist up. It was like a documentary about whales, as they are not small-boned. Prob eating Kentucky fried plankton.

Just got back from the British Museum, where Rose made lovely squeaky noises all the way round the  Hadrian exhibition and had to be breastfed in front of a large marble sculpture of man in toga. Strangely most of the nude statues had testicles but no willy, I wondered if they had fallen victim to the legendary Victorian curators at the BM who removed naughty bits. According to urban myth there is a drawer somewhere with all the Parts in it. There must be a job there for someone to return them to their rightful owners.

Rose was completely delightful all day. Two ladies at the museum made the mistake of offering her their fingers and then getting very nervous when she refused to let go, she has a suprisingly strong grip. It’s entirely their fault for putting their heads in the lion’s mouth (or hand). I had to prise her off.

We visited the post office and handed in passport application. The photos were fine. At home she spent a few exciting minutes lying on a quilt on the floor. She flips herself over onto her tummy, and then gets extremely anquished because she can’t get back over and is stuck there with her nose buried in quilt. We supervise her as the sounds of crossness get louder and louder. We say encouraging things and exhort her to use the anger, but this just seems to make her tense. The thing is that after we rescue her she does it again, so she must enjoy it at some level.

I haven’t slept very well with Jason away. For a start my feet are cold, and that’s it really. Last night while lying awake in the small hours I had an idea for a children’s book which is a Good Thing. I find the half-awake state you’re in when dropping off or lying there counting sheep, good for thinking through creative things. Maybe something to do with your brain being let loose from all the awake functions like walking, and it roams free without fear of tripping over.


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