My spirit animal.
Also, check out the face of the pumpkin's creator, forced to attend a patisserie workshop this afternoon:
Bursting with joy. Like a cat forced to wear a Santa suit, his face says "you may smile now, but later I will kill you as you sleep".
Actually, I think it was less the workshop and more shock and disapproval at having to make those cakes which contained large chunks of pumpkin. I have just tried to eat a piece and .. no. Really not. Mmm, cake cake cake OH HOLY LORD NO A SOGGY LUMP OF PUMPKIN GET IT OUT OF MY MOUTH.
These guys know trouble when they see it:
The bad news: we found a dead mouse next to the fridge and I still have so much work I could cry and L has lost his €120 annual tram pass and I shouted and it's a public holiday tomorrow so none of the shops are open and there is no food in the house except 2kg of pumpkin cake.
The good news: the children are at a Hallowe'en sleepover at the Science Museum ALL NIGHT PRAISE THE BABY NATHAN. When we dropped them off, the lady who was taking their names had her clipboard balanced on a flayed guinea-pig, on a table strewn with dried shark heads, pickled snakes, bones and a brain in a jar. I reckon they'll have a good time. I am going to bed with my book on Iceland and a cup of tea and will do my sodding work in the morning whilst contemplating the Liberty print Nikes my perfidious elder son told me were "too young" for me.
My main observation on the first 13 days of this process is that making any plan to write/achieve anything remotely coherent and meaningful is laughable and that this might be my philosophical take-home for turning forty. "Take-home", ugh, I sound like I am facilitating your break-out group at a team building exercise in a conference centre in Surrey. Come, let us build an egg cradle from office supplies together then feed back on what we learnt*.
(*Did I ever tell you the story of how once during one of our - competitive, obv - team building exercises in the bad old law days, one of my colleagues actually HIRED A SPEEDBOAT to get ahead of the competition? That happened.)
(I now feel slightly nostalgic for the days of team building "retreats" to Mediterranean hotels that serve cava for breakfast. You don't get that when you're freelance.)