The best thing about a 4-month-old baby is the way, when they are glad to see you (which they generally are), they wave all their legs and arms in the air like a stranded bug as their face splits open with smiles. Whole-body happiness. (Of course the corollary is whole-body sadness: when crying or uncomfortable she is miserable all the way down to her tiny toes.)

This is my first Master Plan for the allotment. Given the small amount I have got dug and cleared so far,  and the almighty lack of digging weather (why was everybody on the radio yesterday harping on about the beautiful spring weather?) with time ticking on, I am currently working on plan #2, which has approximately the same areas of the same crops but arranged such that I can have a chap in to rotavate the top half of the plot (where I will plant potatoes and other things that don’t mind it a bit weedy). I can even leave the middle section uncleared and uncultivated until next winter if necesssary although I have yet to decide which veg will be sacrificed if I do so.

The lack of good-enough weather  – while I might be happy in principle to go and work in the rain, I can’t take the kids and our very heavy clay soil wont thank me for it – hasn’t stopped me sowing seeds: so far I have broad beans about 5″ high, tiny cauliflowers and 3″ tomatoes and have sown romanesco caulis, purple-sprouting broccoli, more broad beans, more tomatoes and aubergines, and sweet peas, all sown in an impressively short space of time as Tamsin currently feels she’d like to be held all the time please. Maggie planted the broad beans, which is fantastic as they germinate fast, grow fast, and she loves to pod and eat them.

Both of them! Simultaneously! At the same time! I don’t quite know what to do with myself – must not waste it online – apart from worry that M is sickening for something. She asked to go, with hot milk. Almost unheard of. (Am hoping it is just a combination of not sleeping well last night – next-door’s dog was barking and keeping her awake and frightened – and me really over-acting when she had a nap in the car yesterday “wow! that’s great! isn’t it lovely when you have a daytime sleep! mmm, I always feel great after a snooze…”)

I have a new nephew, so huge congratulations and lots of love to Suzanne, Chris and Mia and welcome to the world baby Callum!

Tamsin did her 16-week growth spurt right on time, so my weekend was mostly occupied with feeding her and changing nappies. She rewarded me with her first few giggles and learning to wave a rattle about. We did manage to fit in the purchase of a new fridge-freezer, and arranged for a man to come and look at our living room with a view to making us a bookcase. Busy busy. Of course it rained all the time so all allotmenteering was off; I am going to forget about growing spuds and take up ark-building.

The wind is whistling (kept M awake last night) and hurling the rain against our windows, and radio 4 reckons we are for it, with snow forecast for North Wales (which we can see even if we don’t live there) and severe wind and rain for the north-west. But my daffs think it is spring and next-door’s cherry tree is pink.

Mummy’s girl – she likes a nice coffee shop.

I’m enjoying being a celebrity again: taking a toddler out and about doesn’t elicit quite the same smiles and coos of welcome. I had assumed, with Maggie, that we got so much attention because she was a western baby so fairly unusual – I have now reached the conclusion that it is merely because I have such very cute babies: we were quite the centre of OAP attention in Chester today. (What do you mean they coo over all babies? Don’t be silly.)

Back to work, that is. Easter was my mental deadline for returning, only I’ve just realised it is Lent (even though we haven’t had pancakes yet) so that day is looming fast. Tamsin still seems tiny and I just can’t imagine how I will find the time – yet having spent much of today embroiled in a, ahem, “debate”* online (must get out more), perhaps I should. I was wondering today whether I could have somebody do my ironing if I did go back: that would make the hassle worthwhile. The only reason to go back – apart from the obvious financial rewards which, believe me, are not nearly large enough to make working-till-midnight appealing – is that I’m concerned if I take too long out and lose my contacts then it will be a bridge burned.

I think what I am going to do is approach one or two of my sources (Cath, this means you!) and take on a little to see how it goes. I could do maybe one article or slide set every couple of weeks? That doesn’t sound so bad (until you realise this is a return to evening and weekend working and I frankly do not have a problem filling my time). Maggie is probably going to do 3 half-days at preschool from September – one more than at present – which in principle frees up another few hours. Except it might be nice to spend that time with the poor neglected secondborn. Perhaps she would like to swim or sing or just have some attention.

*Early weaning. Sigh. This is robustly debated every few weeks on ivillage and I generally steer well clear – as I do most rows – only this time it was on my board and the woman provoking it is not a regular boardie but a…not quite a troll as she belongs on the neighbouring board…let’s say troublemaker. She has posted recently on at least 4 boards extolling the virtues of early weaning and telling everybody the government guidelines are nonsense. I think she might be sponsored by Cow & Gate! Of course she’s entitled to her opinion, but a) she has one child aged 9 weeks, b) people lurk these boards and deserve to get proper information and c) she is just plain offensive. So in I waded.

…with my brilliant new business venture: Chester Sherpas(TM). Watch out for me on Dragons’ Den soon! It Came to me in a flash yesterday as I pushed Maggie in a buggy (laden with off-balance shopping bags as well as a heavy child) with one hand while carrying an umbrella with the other; Tamsin was strapped to my front and the bag of “essentials” on my back. Available to roll out to other cities soon although Chester is particularly well-suited, blessed as it is with cobbles, sharp corners, the completely buggy-proof rows and large gangs of gawping tourists and loitering students who leap out in front of you without a second’s notice, necessitating wild and sudden changes in direction. I nearly lost control several times. (I mean literal control of buggy and/or umbrella not figurative control of my temper, although that did happen when I reached the new dentist to be confronted by a flight of stairs adorned with the magical sign “prams and buggies must be carried up these steps by two adults” (their emphasis). Was there another adult employed by them to stand by and assist? There was not.)

Just a short quick post, sort of whispered (because Pewari, who is paranoid because she’s had lawyers’ letters, is convinced Gillian McKeith is actually psychic and will find me out and sue me for being mean) but I must direct you to this fabulous article*. I confess I don’t watch her programme; I saw it once or twice and couldn’t bear the bullying, nor the fact that she claimed to analyse people’s poo and the corners of their mouths. The article misses out the most important point (presumably because it would be libellous; as, presumably, is this. But I am a small and insignificant blog rather than a national newspaper so prepared to risk it): that she gives no indication of taking any pleasure whatsoever from life. Frankly I’d rather eat the odd ice cream or plate of chips and be happy than survive on aduki beans and goji beans (huh?) and be cross all the time**.

*I like the quote …otherwise it wouldn’t be called “science”, it would be called “assuming”, or “guessing”, or “making it up as you go along”, which sounds horribly like my PhD, and those of many of my friends – but that is another story altogether.

**Of course I am cross all the time. But that is the lot of a mother-of-two and not a result of over-indulgence in blue-green algae. That’s not food, it’s slime!

Tamsin’s first facing-out ride in her sling: she doesn’t look anything like her sister, does she (link is playing up a bit: scroll down to June 22nd)? Old ladies in Britain have fingers that are just as pointy as their Japanese counterparts, yet all seem to think she is a boy. Not sure why, given that she was wearing a pink T-shirt.

Poor baby was not well yesterday: the perils of having an older sibling. High temperature and bunged-up nose, ergo couldn’t really breathe, ergo couldn’t really feed, ergo didn’t sleep. (Though I don’t feel I can really complain as it was the first bad night we’ve had with her in 3 months.)