Spent too much of yesterday and infinite amounts of this afternoon painting the sodding fence. Bloody Ronseal effing well ran out five posts from the end. If we just leave it, in five years time it will all look the same anyway. I’ve watered some of the larger weeds in the front garden with some Roundup solution. Most of them look quite refreshed as though I have actually put plant food on them. Like when I put out slug pellets and all the slugs and snails line up at the back door asking for more crunchy snacks. South London pests for you.
A frilly ballet costume has been hanging up on our wardrobe for a couple of weeks, as the grand prize for Rose to win when she achieves a number of days with no accidents. Today was her third day in a row being dry, so in a small ceremony we awarded her the dress and she spent the next hour before bedtime twirling round the house. EVen refused to eat her yoghurt in case it got on the front. Ironically, I managed to get something like a very tight leotard with a tutu attached, that must be the most difficult thing to get off if you need a wee. Oops. We need an escape hatch.
This morning I sort of dribbled some formula milk on Sylvia’s face while she rotated her head to escape the bottle. Some milk got into her mouth and this time she didn’t make the face of total disgust which she made last time she tasted formula. This must be a good sign.
I saw a very pregnant lady riding a bicycle in Sydenham town centre today. Surely that’s a bit dangerous. It was like a parody of the tv show called something like ‘mums-to-be-behaving-badly’ but instead of teenagers smoking/being fat/drinking it was a mad middle class mum on a bike.