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Dear Diary,

I want to write here.  At the moment I am snuggled up in bed with PomDog and we are watching  Jeremy Kyle – how chavtastic is that?! Still perpetually knackered and there just don’t seem to be enough hours, rather awake hours, in the day.

There’s no particular reason for being knackered, just part of the FMS, the part I find most frustrating.  Seem to have been brewing a lurgy last week and with work yesterday I ate crumpets for supper and went to bed at 1900.  Thank goodness for Mr S, well and that the babies, are, well….not babies.  I laid in bed staring at the wall as too knackered to actually *do* anything.  Got to listen to my beloved Radio 4 mind, some good programmes on at the mo and am loving the ‘cultural exchange’ bit of ‘Front Row’.

Talking of the babies, here they are:

This was at my little sister’s wedding.  In most of the pictures Tris appears to be sticking his tongue out – Grrr!

Much as they look delightful here I have decided that teenagers are the best contraceptive available.  When they dish out those crying dolls to teens who think they want babies, what they should really do is give then a hormonal teen for a week. It’s like being on a frigging roller coaster.

Choo was a nightmare last week, ended with me in tears a few times and just couldn’t say the right thing.  If one was to suggest the sky was blue she would argue it was grey and if you had the audacity to agree with her that would be wrong too!  I know that if it isn’t nice for me then she cannot be feeling nice either.  I wouldn’t be a teenager again for all the tea in China.

Tris is a different kettle of fish.  If he gets cross we might get a bit too much testosterone and then he sulks.

And sulks!

Hmm I am toying with the idea of actually getting out of my pyjamas given that it is nearly 1600.  Need to get a wriggle on as need to go and find a bottle of wine for supper.  Risotto tonight – yum!

Fi