December 11 2013 Latest news:
It’s been a week and I have barely noticed I don’t have my mobile phone. Other people, I know, end up gnawing the furniture, humming their ringtones and asking if they can stroke your Samsung when parted from their own beloved smart phones but I have suffered not a jot. In fact, apart from online supermarket Ocado being unable to text to say my groceries will be delivered by Martin in Onion Van, no one got in touch.
I am going to touch on men. Not literally. I should cocoa.
Grandson George is turning into a person. By which I mean the one-year-old is no longer 100 per cent compliant on all matters. He now makes an executive decision to turn over and crawl away when you’re in the middle of changing his nappy.
The constant irritations of daily life are not helped by the blithe ignorance of an appreciable proportion of people who fail to empathise with the frustrations of others. By “others”, I mean, of course, me.
At what age do most boys start fancying women? I ask because our one-year-old grandson who has only “dada” in the way of chat-up lines, was very definitely besotted with our waitress at an Italian restaurant, last week. We had taken George to Linton Zoo where he was unimpressed with the big cats but expressed delight when a mallard duck waddled past. To cap a lovely day, we went to an Italian eaterie in Saffron Walden.