Sunday

Al and Dilly decided to go to a car boot sale today; indeed, they were going to have a stall themselves. They asked if we could look after the children; fine, I said, I'm not playing the organ so I'll take them to church. Um, we'll have to make an early start, added Al.

Fine. I set the alarm for 6am and was walking up their garden path at half-past.

The children were sweet. I always get to the church an hour before the service as there's a lot to do - today, I was helping with coffee and responsible for the Mothering Sunday flowers, as well as the usual things that crop up, and Squiffany and Pugsley were amazingly good-humoured as I bustled about. They started to suggest it was about time to go home at about the time the service was starting, but were still cheerful when I explained. During the service, they cheerily proffered hands to shake and Pugsley clapped at the end of each hymn, and they helped hand out the bunches of flowers to everyone, including men.

On the way home, Squiffany fell over and cried first for Mummy and then for Daddy, but she was brave and allowed herself to be comforted; I carried her the rest of the way. We decided that a good bounce on my bed would cheer her up, and talked about endorphins ... she knows quite a lot about 'dorphins because she's watched Finding Nemo.

Ro cooked lunch, and excellent it was. Roast chicken, which was perfect and moist and herby, sausages, roast potatoes, sweet potatoes cooked with shallots and cumin, carrots and broccoli; and rhubarb crumble and custard to follow. He cooked the rhubarb in orange juice and a very little sugar. Squiffany and her mother had made cakes to eat with coffee.

I slept for over an hour in the afternoon.