Sunday 3rd January

The second day of the year. No catastrophes so far, though I think I have overdosed on David Tennant (and I did not even see the final episode.) I think BBC must have decided just to cancel celebrating Christmas/New Year and celebrated David Tennant instead. I switch on Radio 4 to listen to Desert Island Discs.

Who’s the guest star? Tennant.

The evening is spent putting the kids to bed. Every evening I have to read Daisy her bi-monthly “Princess” magazine, page after page of lurid bright colours, predominantly pink, chock full of saccharine fairy tales where the sun always shines, everybody is in love, animals are your NBF and nothing bad could ever possibly happen. The trouble is that I am getting bored of Daisy forcing me to read the same bloody utopian cartoon ad nauseum. I have started altering the words, but she knows the script off by heart and remonstrates as only two year olds know how to i.e. she bawls and cries for mummy.

At the same time, I am nurturing carnal intentions for the mermaid Ariel…I have always had a thing for woman that is half fish. Still, there is no point getting my hopes up for my siren of the sea, nor for that matter her posse: Princess Aurora, Snow White, Belle or Cinderella, since they only go for cape-wearing princes with ludicrously chiselled jaws and in any case, the princesses do not appear to the kind of strumpet that would embark upon a series of illicit affairs (not that our carnal affair would be depicted in Little Princess magazine.)

The evening is spent researching the terroir of Chateau Lynch Bages, whilst appreciating The Housemartins “Build” and Basement Jaxx “Raindrops”…and thinking about Ariel.

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