Then it is ‘teeth’ time, during which the small boy brushes my teeth with a grizzled old toothbrush, pausing occasionally to suck some of the toothpaste off or mither for more out of the tube.

Following this: further running around the house, this time the small boy completely starkers, laughing his head off even more, with me chasing him around trying to remember what it was I once read in a Gina Ford book once about non-rowdyness at bedtime.

Gina is so ubiquitous now within parenting circles that I think she has actually become a verb.  Mothers talk about ‘doing Gina’ with their kids, with varying degrees of success, failure or abject horror at the idea of preparing their little one for a 15 minute sleep at precisely 16.45.  (Gina would never say quarter to five.)  Needless to say it never caught on in our house, but her words still ring in my ears as I find myself doing the very thing that awful mother she admonishes on page 145 was doing which made little Tabitha such an unmanageable pain.

By 7.30 or so pyjamas are eventually wrestled on, dummies deployed, stories read.  However, at some stage the most exciting possible occurrence will happen, when ‘Daddy!’ gets home.  Daddy knows about the importance of non-rowdy bedtime, but being the boy’s father must thrust him into the air, tickle, pretend-drop him and other hysterical manoeuvres which are fantastically entertaining but not at all conducive to any form of sleep.  All of this invariably leads to the small boy standing in his cot singing loudly for the next three hours.

Between 8 and 9, there are a series of incursions into his room to return dummies which have been dropped on the most difficult-to-reach part of the floor, take away beakers of milk and his trousers which he will have removed at some stage and now be being swinging enthusiastically around his head.  I have a fantasy that one day I will put him into his cot and he will lie down with whichever cuddly toy he likes best tonight, muttering sweet nothings to his darling mother and drifting off to sleep, but it has yet to occur.  Dream on Gina.

He was very excited in the car park.

“Car! … Car!”

“You just wait,” I said, as we walked over a wooden bridge, past a statue of Sir Peter Scott, the great ornithologist and founding member of the Worldwide Fund for Nature.

“Bus!” he cried, delighted, as we passed the 283 dropping punters off from as far afield as Acton.

“That’s right,” I said, “and now we’re going to see the ducks!”

Silence round ‘Wildside’ amongst ducks, geese and a pair of discarded antlers from one of the resident red deer.

Then, “Tractor!” the small boy points excitedly at a vehicle a mile and a half away across a distant field.

Silence round the ‘World Wetlands’ where we saw coots, black-necked swans and a plaster of paris model of a crocodile.

Two cups of tea and a piece of cake later, back to the car park.  “Car! … Car!”

Next week-end I’m planning a trip to our local used car dealership.

The boy had a great time, and is now walking properly.  We’re just about over the jet lag, and now preparing for ‘the exciting project’ I teased you all with so mercilessly in the last update.  It’s just that we’re converting the loft, so abandon any thoughts you had of a 12ft diameter ecodome (whatever that is.)  Should be fun though, although we’re not sure when it’s going to happen yet.

The garden has gone crazy, and I don’t quite have the strength to get out there yet.  It’s sort of a jungle, but the resident foxes seem to like it.

My lovely sister Hannah reminded me that it has been rather a while since I updated the blog.  The weeks have been flying by, and suddenly it’s June already. The small boy keeps us busy.  He is verging on walking but is majoring in shouting, at which he is already highly accomplished.

We made biscuits with him the other day. The wonderful thing about making biscuits with a one year old is that it’s all about the icing.  Every biscuit must be laced and sprinkled. As if we needed any excuse.

In other news I now have ‘ledge veg.’  Three tomato plants in a window box.  They flutter precariously in the wind, I hope they will make it.  We have a veritable orchard in the garden, two apple trees and a plum tree are fruiting.  We have also rescued a couple of potted patio cherry trees from my sisters’ house move.  They seem somewhat traumatised by the trip across Tooting and are clinging on to life itself rather than wasting energy on producing progeny.  I hope all your gardens are flourishing and enjoying some of the recent showers.

We had a long conversation about letter writing.  It’s an under appreciated art form, supposedly superceded by email, facebook, twitter (@rpudd, if you’re interested), but still one of the nicest ways to keep in touch.  Number 8 Neighbour says she will often write a letter over a week, updating day by day.  The letters she writes to her best friends are longer than ones to people she doesn’t get on with so well.

Back over our side of the street the long grass in the garden is taunting me.  It has grown some more overnight, just to exacerbate my guilt at not having mown it for months.  The plant pots are still sitting next to the sink, barren.

Perhaps I will get out there today.  For now though, a nice cup of tea is my next step.  I intend to give it the time and attention it deserves for once.  Loose leaf tea, teapot, fresh milk.  China cup.  Magazine.  Luxury.

It is great to be back in a routine, and to have something to get my brain around every day.  A bit of variety is good for the soul, and I think the boy benefits from my being distracted from worrying about various things in his life.  He is well, and has got over the various illnesses that come from starting nursery, to my relief.

My lovely sisters have just moved house, and are now living a stone’s throw from the nursery.  It will be nice to pop in and see them with the boy at the end of the day.  Him Indoors and I are gradually clearing a load of clutter out of the house, and generally trying to keep on top of all the various admin that seems never ending at the moment.  We have to book in time to spend with each other, but managed to get to the cinema this week for a date!

I have a stack of plant pots next to my sink in the kitchen.  They are destined for tomato seedlings, but I have yet to plant them up.  Other things keep getting in the way, and the garden still lies neglected.  Hopefully soon I will be able to pay it the attention it deserves.

And you?  Do leave a comment and let me know what you’re up to.

Still, we are nearly back to normal, and the sun has popped out in recent days which reminds me that Spring is just around the corner.

I’m going back to work the week after next, and the Small Boy will be going to nursery.  The days will be long for him and he will no doubt be sent home with temperatures or sickness a fair amount over the first few months.  I may not be spending as much time at work as I thought.

This year promises to be busy and hopefully full of interesting developments.  The Small Boy’s first birthday is a month away, and then we have a big project on the horizon, of which more later.

I love watching the fox who still manages to live on top of the wall at the back of the garden though. The neighbours chopped the hedge right back to try to get rid of him, but now the leaves are the same colour as his fur, so he has an even better hiding place. I am a little wary of him now the small boy is on the scene, so I may have to do the same later in the year.

Like this blog, the garden gets horribly neglected for large chunks of the year, but I know that when the first signs of spring start appearing, I will be all excited about it again.

I hope your gardens are all hibernating well, getting ready for new things in the months to come.

I was looking for a way to clean soot off our stove last year but couldn’t find much advice apart from to use scrunched up newspaper.  Now, thanks to the chap who came to service the stove last week, I have a much better answer.  Metal polish, applied with a toothbrush works like a dream.

Now that the summer is more or less over, I can’t wait for the first fire of the winter.  It’s also a pretty sustainable option in terms of heating the house as well, and cheaper than gas or electricity.

He is just starting on purees at the moment.  This is quite fun so far, I’m keen to get on with it and get him onto proper food having done months and months of breast feeding every 3 hours.  I read a brilliant book on baby led weaning, and we’re going to try to do as much of that as we can.  This doesn’t amount to very much, but we will have him sitting at the table with us for meals with a load of finger food to play with.  I like the idea of babies getting an idea of what food actually looks like, rather than just knocking back mush all day.

We have a cute high chair from Phil & Ted which clips onto the table.  He’s a bit little for it at the moment, he has to be propped up with a cuddly rabbit on one side and a cuddly lamb on the other (and still he shrieks after about 10 minutes) but once he’s a bit bigger I think this will work quite well.

My lettuce seedlings continue to soldier bravely on, in the face of daily attacks by slugs, cats, and very possibly foxes.  They’re doing quite well considering I planted them horribly late in the first place.  The raspberry canes are happily fruiting away, and it’s just as well, they’re our only hope this year.  I foolishly neglected the potatoes in the hottest fortnight of the summer, and failed to plant anything else up.  Next year I will hopefully get more done earlier and we should have a few other bits.

The compost heaps and the water butt are awesome though.  I do enjoy sifting through compost.  Strange I know.

Finally, here are some rather beautiful cameras made out of cardboard…