Decisions , decisions .

Aaron is sleeping . Flat out in his pushchair with its furry lining , tiny lips working in a frenzy to get the last ounce of that bottle he's dreaming of . Eleven months old , and never the most reliable of sleepers , in fact I could probably count the amount of unbroken night's sleep on the fingers of well, one finger . He has been snoring since teatime , despite Tali's best banshee impressions , and my depositing of a saucepanful of boiled potatoes on the kitchen tiles , when the handle came off .

My dilemma is this : Do I bite the bullet and wake him now for a last feed, with no guarantee that he'll be happy about it , and none either that he'll go back to bed for some time ? Or do I curl up on the sofa next to him, grab what sleep I can till he wakes , and then watch all the episodes of 'The Wire' that I have saved for the evenings when Ian is working ? Or even do I not grab some sleep , and stay and play with some new found friends ?

I think I shall let him sleep .

Perch 1 - Zachary 0

It's fishing club day today . Zac , my 11 year old son , joined last week , after having been initiated into it by an evangelical fisherman who happens to be one of his friends' dad. Anyhow we heard of the local young anglers club ( as to me and the husband , the only thing we know how to do with fish is eat it ) and enrolled him . Met the organisers who kindly took him over and made sure he was with someone who would help him , and told me to come back in two hours time to collect . Righty ho said I , and made a beeline for the local saddlery ,having unexpectedly gained two hours free time to myself .

Two hours later , I returned to the lakes , to find Zac crouched intently by the side of the water . 'How are you doing ? ' I asked . ' MUM ! You'll upset the fish ! ' Well that was me told . I stood meekly behind , waiting for the shout of 'STOP FISHING ! ' and waited with baited ( if you'll pardon the pun ) breath for the weighing to come round . He'd caught 3 roach and a perch , who managed to catch his hand with it's spines as he tried to unhook it with novice fingers , and the total weight was 7 ounces . You'd have thought he'd landed a fifty pound carp, as he burst through the front door , talking nineteen to the dozen , complete with hand gestures .

One small problem however . The following day , the spiked hand blew up , to tennis ball proportions , and involved an late night trip to casualty at our local QEH . Mind you , even then he managed to acheive a small measure of celebrity as the 'unusual injury of the night ! ' The doctor said to us 'I even googled it , and the only advice I can find on getting spiked by a perch is 'Don't' !

As we got back into the car in the early hours , I said to him ' So, has it put you off going ? ' and received a scathing glance in return . I think an obsession has been born .....

Norfolk's best kept secret .

We never aimed to live in this area . The house hunting criteria was very precise - somewhere big enough to house 5 and occasionally six children , plus myself , husband and the three horses , hereafter known as the Hay Monster , Her ladyship , and You Little ... without breaking the bank , and somewhere near a train line into Kings Cross so we could get to work . Areas of East Anglia were a complete closed book to us as we quite literally knew no one at all to steer us .

And then one day , hunting on t'internet , I found it . Room enough for us all , three stables plus a spare or two , it just needed 'some finishing ' . We went ,we looked , and we put in an offer . Nine months later , it was ours , and the sagas began ...


I digress , however . The day we turned up , was the day we were adopted by the village . The kitchen was unusable ( filthy) , I was 8 months pregnant so we decided to seek refuge in the pub . Well . It was the typical village pub - as we tentatively walked in , the hush fell . I pleaded for sustenance , explained who we were and we were away . Since then , we've had potatoes dropped off by the sackful ( thought you'd have a need of 'em ) and have been well and truly adopted .

Even our nearest town is the same . Free parking , people who go out of their way to help , even when they don't need to and schools that most people would lie to get their kids into. And yet if I tell anyone where we live , I'm rewarded with a blank look and a 'Where ?'

So where do we live ? I'm certainly not going to tell you !!!