Crazy...

Me: "Is it icy out?"

Husband: "Not particularly..."

Me: "So I'll be alright to walk to the gym in my trainers?"

Husband (curling his lip slightly): "What, the same trainers you work out in?"

Me: "Yes. And don't look like that, no-one has separate trainers for the walk to the gym and the actual work-out." (What kind of Desparate Housewives world do you live in?)

Husband: "Well, then yes. If you must, it should be fine."

5 minutes later as I walk - no, sorry; slip, teeter and skate - to the gym, I realise that having the conversation above with a person who spends much of their winter in Moscow may result in a slight clash of view points about what exactly 'icy' means...


It's a half snow day in London town today. To the uninitiated, that means that the roads are more or less clear, public transport is up and running, the shops are open, and the sun is shining. There is, however, just enough slush on the pavements and next to the kerbs to make the faint-hearted feel justified in staying home 'just in case' it gets too icy later to get home safely... To which end, more importantly, Boy #1's school has requested that the children be collected at 12.00 rather than 3.00pm...

This is feasible for us - though not convenient as Boy #2 is sick - but I can't imagine the mayhem it must cause for those families where both parents are in paid employment. I can just hear the conversations that (mostly) women are likely to be having all over the city with their employers, the bargains that need to be made with unsympathetic colleagues who don't have the same problem, the soul-selling that is required to get carers to work an extra couple of hours...

Anyway, as I mentioned, we don't have that problem. My problem is instead what to do with 2 boys, one of whom is desperate to get out into the snow with his friends and knock over other people's snowmen (oh, the mortification, the pulling of my hat further down over my eyes and the vain hope that none of our neighbours are looking out of their windows), and another who is really not up to outside entertainment. Boy #2 has retreated under his duvet and is lapping up C-Beebies and sleep in equal measures.

This means unfortunately that Boy #1 is confined to quarters as well since our garden set-up is not condusive to leaving him alone and unsupervised. After getting home from school at lunchtime he was disgusted to find that instead of the afternoon's play he had envisaged - accompanied no doubt by his traditional outraged screams when a snow-ball finds it's way down the inside of his jumper - he is instead condemned to an afternoon's pre-school television, (Husband is out, needless to say, hence the wanton use of tv as babysitter), and revising his sight words and sounds.

We need to get out soon though; did you know that C-Beebies repeats it's morning schedule in the afternoonb? Spectacular use of the Licence Fee. If I have to listen to the soundtrack of 'In the Night Garden' and Upsy Daisy singing into that blasted microphone one more time I am going to go crazy...