No rest for the wicked

Titus has finally got rid of his stomach complaint and gone back to kindergarten. I was waiting for a sign that he felt better, and that sign was a knock at my door, 5 a.m. today. What's wrong? I asked groggily. I'll tell you what's wrong, Mummy (big sigh) - I'm BORED! Can't you get up and play with me?

What is this world coming to. Obviously he was feeling much, much better so I packed him off to the fierce and devout teacher for a bit of breakfast analysis and evaluation. I am expecting top marks today, as I used horrible, tough wholegrain bread, the sort that looks like a miller made the flour by rubbing wheat in between two grimy stones. I shall go and rescue him soon.

Today is a good day, despite the pre-dawn start. I got my child-free morning, finally; the sun is shining, and CG should be on his way home soon from six days of slumming it in Bucharest. Hope he's got me a good souvenir. I have one more thing to endure, however, before I can relax. The parents evening. Still, it can't be as bad as last time. I have learned some Bavarian words since then; useful ones such as prison (Cafe Viereck), poodle (Nuttenfiffi) and orthodontist (Foznschbangla) which are bound to serve me well in any discussions arising tonight. I shall set myself a challenge - to use all three in the same sentence without giving the impression that I'm completely nuts.