When we stayed in Perth last Christmas, housesitting for friends,  I noticed a box in the laundry that had ‘Who Gives A Crap’ printed on it. I looked it up online and discovered it’s a company that sells only home-delivered bog roll. I like having things home delivered and I love swear words and not running out of toilet paper, so this seemed like a good fit for us. It only took me eight months to get around to, but last week** I ordered a box of 48 double length rolls for $4

Others are more prosaic. Take ‘Molly Drops Her Phone’. In this game, May Blossom is Molly. Molly takes my phone, puts it in her handbag and leaves the room for a moment. Then she comes back with an empty handbag and exclaims ‘Oh no, I’ve dropped my phone in a shop!’ I then make all kinds of helpful suggestions about how we might get it back, and like so many clay pigeons, May Blossom shoots them down with deadly accuracy. ‘Well,’ I say energetically. ‘Let’s go back and see if

Are you aged two (and up)? Are you bored? Have you got no-one to play with but your own shadow? Try some of the new games May Blossom has recently invented. Blocks in Socks Take off your socks. Fill them with blocks. Swing them around like the kind of dangerous improvised weapon that would be banned in prison. Gravel in a Shotglass Go visit your uncle at the Kings Cross hotel for visiting arty types where he is staying while in town to do a play. Spend the afternoon on the co

1. You have to stay somewhere as good or better than home. My very clever friend Other Jess once told me this, and I think she is right. Once you have a child, and probably until they are at least five, for a trip away to in any way resemble a holiday you need to stay somewhere this is not inferior to your own home. Staying in a crappy hotel when you are travelling in Mexico without kids is fine. You can eat out every meal, spend all day sightseeing, and just use it as a plac

Wild scenes: May Blossom out of control in the moshpit. Tip her over, pour her out. We’ve just returned from the Play School Concert. If you’re not from Australia, I ought to explain that Play School is a half-hour television program made and broadcast by the Australian Broadcasting Corporation for pre-schoolers. It has been running since 1966. Each episode is hosted by two actors, appearing as themselves, and basically they mind your kid in a educational way for half an hour

May Blossom loves to play. Anything that involves chasing, shrieking and creating mayhem gets her seal of approval. Yesterday she and her mate Seamus (the same age) invented a game I dubbed ‘Letterbitch’. It involved both of them standing in front of the fridge and using violent flailing arm movements to swipe all the magnetic letters onto the floor, while shouting what sounded to me like ‘BITCH!’ over and over again. It was extremely funny. Only later, when relating the tale

As you can see, this is a very ordinary photograph of some bacon in a bain marie. Why would anyone put such a bad picture on their blog, you may be wonder. The answer is simple: this was the best bacon ever. It was the bacon served at my grandmother’s 100th birthday brunch in Denver two years ago. This was the amount left after fifty or so guests had served themselves a modest portion. Then my husband, father, older brother and I stood there and ate the rest like it was a bow

In the down column: 1. My 102-year-old grandmother suffered a small stroke. 2. The fate of our missing family cat, Tigercat, was discovered. It was not pretty and probably involved a fox. Vale, Tigercat. 3. Gusto, who is an indoor cat, got out and went missing for several hours on a rainy night. In the up column: 1. My grandmother was released from hospital and is now doing well at home.1. May Blossom slept through the night for the first time. 2. May Blossom slept through th

I bought the tickets a few months ago on a whim, because H loves Bonnie Prince Billy, who is a grumpy-looking, balding, blond bearded alt-folk-country musician. I like him too, I think, but I can’t actually remember any of his songs. Whenever I try to summon one up in my head I get a Bon Iver song. Nevertheless, I am excited to be going out. Or I was until I looked at the tickets to see what time the show starts. Nine o’clock. Nine pm. In the night. That means he won’t be fin

Wearing my new spectacles: They make me look like Colin Firth in A Single Man. The ladies are going to swoon. Watching May Blossom’s little brain tick over as she slowly figures out that there is no way to break open the littlest babushka doll in the set. On that note, rediscovering the joy of Kate Bush’s music videos. Eating Yotam Ottolenghi’s Roasted Eggplant with Saffron Yoghurt, Pine Nuts, Basil and Pomegranate. It’s a dish for which you will never have all the ingredient

The reason for the subterfuge is that since blackberries are a terrible pest in these parts, and you are supposed to keep them away by spraying them with noxious pesticides, Dad gets quite annoyed each year when he realises how many there are. We have a running joke where I pretend to hide their location from him, but he knows where they are. And he does try to keep them under control, but blackberries are serious invaders. This may or may not be the view from the hill where

This morning, between baking four huge chocolate cakes and dealing with a toddler suffering from what I thought was fear of the noise the mixer made until I realised it was desperation to lick the batter off the beaters, I finished making the party favours for May Blossom’s birthday party. Party favours aren’t something I had really planned. I might have flung a few sweets into a bought cellophane bag, maybe, if everything else had run smoothly (as if). Realistically, I proba

May Blossom's Birthday Cake May Blossom turned one and it was a marvellous day. There were blueberry pancakes with maple syrup and bacon, coffee and champagne (not for the one-year-old, obviously. Only light beer until the age of three. No exceptions.) There were presents galore, including a four-foot-high stuffed tiger and cub, a gift that was ‘for May Blossom and against her parents’, according to her uncles. There was a trip to the park and licking the beaters while I made