- Viola Kid going out the front door;
- The window-cleaner wanting the back gate opened;
- The computer-whizz friend just leaving (front door), after helping SuperSpouse unravel 2 pc's;
- The Tesco man delivering the groceries at the back door, AS the window-cleaner had his well-earned coffee out on the patio;
- Cello Kid just back from a party, and
- Saxophone Kid just at home where he was meant to be.
Fine. 20 minutes later, lunch was served. I went and swam 30 lengths, nipped into Morrisons to get stuff for tomorrow's harvest festival, came home and dealt with laundry, lasagne and a bread-and-butter pudding. Which we then despatched with due ceremony and a glass of Chardonnay, then chased down with a coffee. Whereupon I fell asleep. Insomnia, me? No, never, never, never.
It's all rather annoying, however, because I want to start thinking about a book proposal, and you do need to be awake for that kind of thing. PseudoSupermum does not have boundless energy, despite appearances to the contrary.