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Another thing about this Hipp baby porridge is, that it isn’t made of oats at all, but wheat. Not that I have anything against wheat, but without looking up the definition of porridge in the dictionary I would say that it’s widely accepted that when you are presented with a bowl of something for your breakfast which is described as porridge, you expect it to contain oats. I feel a letter of complaint coming on.

I’ve put Rose on the waiting list for the nearest nursery as a fallback option. I was encouraged by the news that there is going to be a new manager of the baby room when rose will be starting, so there is a chance that they will bleedin well cheer up in there. How can you hang out with babies all day and be so dreary? I’m going to do a lengthy observation visit in January to find out if the carers there are in fact really lively when they think no-one is looking, at the same time as checking out childminders to cover all the bases.

Booked a home visit hairdresser. Presumably she mainly cuts blue rinsers. But I am already deep into old lady territory already: yesterday I realised I was watching old persons tv when there was an ad for mobility scooters during Poirot. Also starting to find Flog It quite absorbing and can have long chats about it with my mother, mainly about how appalling it is that people sell their family heirlooms for peanuts and how we despise them as individuals and reject the tv programme as insultingly poor quality. Strangely we have the same conversation every week, usually about the latest episode.

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