So Mr Woog asks me to check the DOW JONES this morning (like clockwork everyday) I log on and say "Down 9% my sweet" and he bolts naked out of the shower shouting and having a heart attack. After a short discussion, I now know the importance AND difference between points and percentages.

Then H declared he was far too unwell to go to school so I let him have a day off. An hour I later glanced out the window to see him scooting around like a madman. When questioned he responded that he felt much better all of a sudden. I tried to explain the old saying "Never Bullshit a Bullshitter" but we both ended up confused.

I also have an underlying feeling I am suffering from Munchhausen by proxy - as in the past fortnight I have been the the ENT 3 times, the GP Twice, The podiatrist once AND taken the cat to the vet. Oh no..... not me! I am fine. Those flaming kids! Today was just speech therapy and the ENT surgeon to schedule an operation for J. I asked the doctor whether they had a loyalty program only to find out ENT's have an under-developed sense of humour.

THEN I get home to find this ridiculous cover of Vogue staring up at me from the doormat. A slightly retarded looking anorexic who was born the year I graduated from uni. Seriously young.

I have cleared the schedule tomorrow for a few hours of deep breathing to the soothing sounds of Enya.