Middlemarch took
forever to read, shamefully. Billy, or 'Bibs' (as Libby accidentally called him
and which seems to be sticking) is taking up most of Helen's time with feeding
and comforting, so I don’t have much time for reading left after looking after
F&L and trying to keep the house tidy. The rest were read on holiday in
Harcombe Bottom, when I rediscovered an appetite for reading. It has slowed
right down since returning as have fallen back into the old routine. The up
side of this is that I'm getting exercise again following two weeks of cream
teas and cider.
Incredible to think
that the last time I wrote the World Cup hadn't even started and Bibs was only
4 weeks old. That seems like a lifetime ago now. Helen saw a newborn yesterday
and Bibs looked like a monster baby capable of devouring it whole. There has to
be a limit to baby-led weaning though.
The World Cup seems to have sparked an interest in football from Fred,
and he spends his waking hours in either his Woking shirt or his Tottenham
shirt, The last couple of nights I've come home to find he's drawn Tottenham
badges, one including a monster representing Arsenal. We often play 'Name 5',
for example 'Name 5 islands' or 'Name 5 types of tree'. He doesn’t seem to like
naming 5 Tottenham players though. He always gets Hugo Lloris, and sometimes
Andros Townsend and then 'Eric. . . Eric'. Which could be Lamela, Dier or even
Christian Eriksen
Libby absolutely has
me wrapped around her finger. I'm still in the spare room as Bibs is in with
Helen, and Libby wakes up in the middle of the night and hammers on the door to
be let in. She then climbs into bed and
twists, turns and rotates until wake-up time. Just like her Mum, there is often
a punch to my eye or a haymaker to my neck, or a kick in the ribs too. And then
she tells me she loves me and gives a big hug and all is forgiven. She's so
confident too. All holiday she was going up to strangers with her standard
bellowed greeting 'I LIBBY! WHAT YOU
CALLED?' WHAT YOUR DOG CALLED?'
