Yeah, yeah calendar, whatever. Give me another of those nice silver pens.
Over in Etsy land, I am beginning to be concerned about damp in those beautiful seventeenth century Amsterdam townhouses:
This is the second lot of mushrooms.
So, I have pretty much wholly lost my voice (again, it's becoming an annual occurrence) which leads me to that regular parenting conundrum: what to do when you can no longer shout? Or indeed raise your voice? Or, indeed further, use your voice except to hiss menacingly at very close quarters? It is chastening how much of my parenting 'style' is based on a fairly bracing tone of voice. Without access to my words, I am reduced to foot stamping like an angry ram to try and get their attention, followed my some combination of the aformentioned hissing, or sign language. It's not really working out for me so far: I had a small, pathetic, silent meltdown when I found out that a child had placed a pizza crust in the dishwasher, but since no one could hear me (or more likely, they were choosing not to hear me), and I quickly got bored of slamming cupboard doors without provoking a reaction, its effect was limited. L was moved to make me honey and lemon tonight without any prompting, which was nice, if a little unnerving.
Good stuff about Friday:
- It is Friday
- Thus it is time for my most favourite children's programme, Friday Download, featuring Dionne Bromfield looking haughty and singing every boy band in Britain off the stage.
- French Masterchef semi-finals, full of overwrought masochistic tweezer action. I am recording the second half, after an emotional vol-au-vent round, where Marie-Hélène was attacked by a a bowl of live crayfish (this is a French Masterchef ritual, repeated every series) and Marc apologised to a lobster before decapitating it, subsequently musing "it's not my favourite part, but they are delicious".
- Bought some saucisson called "Jésus Pur Porc", mainly so I could ask the man in the shop for "twelve slices of Jesus, please".
Oh yes, it's all high culture.
Bad stuff about Friday:
- Have not finished any of my work, which means a weekend of moping around going "I really have to finish my work", followed by finally knuckling down at 9pm on Sunday. Awful. Happens every weekend at the moment.
- Suffering from the traditional mince pie tongue burn.
- Plague skin, due to this week's diet of mince pie, Lemsip and booze.
- Need to locate my birth certificate, yes, that sounds easily achievable without soundless, spitting, furniture kicking tantrums.
Tell me about your day-stroke-weekend-stroke cures for voicelessness.