home alone

So here I am blogging, when in another, childless universe I would be tucking my napkin under my top button thus leaving my hands free to applaude the arrival of turkey and all the trimmings onto my oven-warmed plate while friends giggle and toast each other with a glass of champers, if there were any schnapps in the house mine would be a Bellini.

Our babysitter cancelled at the 11th hour.

We had a row about whether to take Emma with us. I got my way (Emma Stays In Bed) and am facing the consequence: pasta with courgette on top, orange squash.

She is much better, by the way, and busy with her new hobby - chewing through electric cables.

In fact maybe tonight I should babyproof the flat? That would be a productive use of a husbandless, partyless evening. Sulk? Babyproof? Sulk? Babyproof?

Sulking wins.