The Weekend

We talked, non-stop, except when we were asleep. And, in the Squirrel's case, except for a few bleary minutes on Sunday morning when she was sitting up and breastfeeding but not, in fact, awake. Spiral and I happily filled that conversation gap and, finding herself with two relentlessly cheerful morning people who provided her with a cup of tea and a cup of coffee, the Squirrel succumbed to peer pressure and resumed her chatty status.

Baby Squirrel was a delight, despite being full of cold. He has a staggering bowlegged flat-footed walk which makes him look like a miniature drunk, especially as he sometimes sits down very suddenly (and once went flat bonk on his nose on the kitchen floor, which would have made me laugh if it hadn't made him wail). He enjoyed bimbling around my kitchen and garden, playing with kitchen utensils - a few bits of tupperware, a pair of spatulas and a wooden spoon kept him happy for ages. There was much communicative clapping of hands and bibblibblibbling of fingers and lips, and that was just the grown-ups.

Spiral and Squirrel got on well, bonding over shared experiences as mothers of sons. We talked about writing, and families, and mutual friends and acquaintances, food and drink, jobs and careers, haircuts and make-up - all sorts of things. I cooked, accompanied by organic English Kir Imperial - yes, really - Spiral brought organic English 'champagne' and organic English blackcurrant vodka, AND some delicious organic nut chocolate, what a good guest! We pottered out to the park on Saturday afternoon, to amuse Baby Squirrel, but mostly we sat around chatting, eating, drinking, laughing and chatting some more.

Then on Sunday afternoon Spiral went home (I did try to persuade her to stay another night and drive home at the crack of dawn, but she had her sensible head on). It was still an hour until the Squirrels' train was due, so the remaining trio went to the park again with the aim of wearing out Baby Squirrel so he would be peaceable en route. I was confident about how long it would take us to walk from the park to the station, but I had forgotten to factor in various things such as the slower progress made by people with baby and buggy, and the bypass actually being the long way round. So they missed it, and it was all my fault - but Mummy Squirrel was very laid back and kind about my stupidity and, in the hour before the next train, I took them to Wetherspoons for consolatory drinks and warm chocolate fudge cake with vanilla ice cream. Baby Squirrel amused us by emitting an outraged bellow every time Mummy Squirrel raised her spoon to her lips - she did give him a few small tastes of ice cream, but he wanted the great big bits of cake!

We managed to get them on to the next train, then I strolled home and made an experimental pizza with a spelt flour base which luckily turned out to be scrumptious. Overall, it was one of my best weekends in ages, and without the magical wonderful Internet it never would have happened.