I know it's been fairly paltry of late. What can I say? I've been away, but now I'm back. Right now Hubby is downstairs in the kitchen perfecting a mushroom and curly kale lasagne and the house is full of street kids. No, not actual street kids, just kids from the street (although occasionally it does feel as if the house has become a refuge for street children, with my own being the most guttersnipe-ish of all). I've just been for a run and done sixty seven sit ups. I know! I'll have a washboard stomach in no time (or even a dashboard stomach, as one not-very-bright babysitter once described it to me). I didn't do any press ups, though, because my shoulder is still hurting from the whole manual labour thing earlier this month (although worth the pain as the grass is coming on nicely, thanks).
So we've just done the whole relatives thing this week, with a trip to Devon to see grandparents and aunty and one set of cousins. The cousins are a bit like an Amazonian version of the seven dwarfs. I don't mean that they are teeny tiny and live in South America. What I mean is that my Twins have christened them with dwarfish names. They are: Lovely, Kind, Beautiful and Glorious (not sure who is which) and they are all young ladies between the ages of ten and sixteen with long flicky silky hair (of which I'm particularly jealous). It rained a lot in Devon, so we cut our trip short and went to Weymouth to see the other set of grandparents, and managed to have a picnic in the two-hour slot of sunshine. Then we went on to London to see another aunty and cousin with long flicky silky hair (of which I'm jealous), who was in the closing ceremony of the Olympics, dressed in pink. This may trump being an Amazonian dwarf, but I'm not sure. I'll have to ask the Twins when they're not too busy (they are very busy at the moment, playing 'librarians', their current favourite game. I have no idea why, but it does make me feel that I should introduce them to some more exciting role models - wonder if you can get Wonder Woman on DVD?)
Now we're back home and I should really have spent today getting through a mountain of washing, but Hubby took the kids out to see another aunty (they have several), although the other cousins with long, flicky hair were busy (one is about to become a solicitor and the other a vet - all my nieces are so high achieving and have such gorgeous hair, it does make me feel academically and follically lacking), so I used the time to tinker with the dissertation - I think it's finished but I'm not brave enough to actually send it in yet...
We are now onto the last week of the hols. And I know most other mums are probably whooping at this point and can't wait to get the little blighters back to school. However the truth is that I'm a teensy bit nervous. I have just about finished my dissertation, and when the kids go back to school I'm no longer a student, or a full-time mum, and I have promised to get my arse in gear and go out and earn some money. Which isn't scary at all, honest!
Right, time for some veggie lasagne. Ta ra xxxx

Hello. How are your summer hols? We've got to the point where we have run out of cash for going out to do child-friendly summertime things, so tonight the Twins have invited their friends over to camp in the garden as a low-cost alternative. I think there's hail due tonight. And they've set their alarm so they can all wake up at midnight for their midnight feast. One way or another it's going to be an interrupted nights sleep. Oh well, they can all just sit inside and watch telly tomorrow, whilst I rustle up another meal from Tesco's 'everyday value' ingredients (it's amazing how many things you can do with half a packet of tortillas and some old cheddar cheese - I feel another 'Mexican surprise' coming on...) and Hubby watches Top Gear re-runs. Actually, I feel like I'm doing Hubby a disservice because yesterday he mowed the lawn and cooked supper and hoovered the entire house and put up a tent for the kids. And this morning he read through my dissertation for me (again - will I ever finish the damn thing?). But this afternoon he did fall asleep on the sofa in front of Top Gear. I guess he deserved a break. Oh, and talking of hard work, I don't want you to think that it's only him who's been at it. No sireee. Yesterday I dug up the enormous weedy front flowerbed and sowed it with grass seed. I have barely done so much manual labour in my life (in fact, I think the last time I wielded a spade was in 1994 in Tanzania). Today I have neck ache and a nasty blister on my hand, so I have attempted nothing more challenging than spritzing glass cleaner over the bathroom mirrors and making a risotto. And I went to the hairdresser's as well (I was meant to go last week, but I discovered a nit the night before - I think it was Polly's estranged stepfather, Derek), and now feel fully up to date with important current affairs issues such as why Katie Holmes really left Tom Cruise and when Prince William actually fell for Kate Middleton (and some stuff about someone from the Saturdays getting married too). I also have shorter, marginally less Kate Bush-ish hair. The hairdresser was nothing if not honest. After I'd sat down and explained what I wanted, she gingerly fingered the end of one of my desiccated tresses and said: "Well, I know what you want it to look like, but I'm telling you now, it won't end up like that." She went on to mention that it will take around a year to get my hair back into good shape, thanks to the coiffure nightmares it has suffered over the past few months.
Now, I value honesty above all things, but in a hairdresser perhaps it's a somewhat overrated virtue. Couldn't she just have told me that my hair is lovely and that I look gorgeous right now. I don't want to be told that I'll have to wait a full three hundred and sixty five days just to look normal again.
Still, what can you expect for twenty quid (I'll tell you what, a whole week of everyday value 'Mexican Surprise' that's what)? Next time I'll just pay more for the senior stylist in the hope that she's a more accomplished liar.
Hope your hols all going well.
Take care xxx

Holidays, holidays, hurrah for the new-to-us trampoline and that plenty of other kids are also holidaying at home this year. Twin 2's nits are pretty much gone. There were about four that seemed to linger, and Hubby took to calling them her nit family and asking what their names were. When I did the last comb and found one and showed it to Twin 2, she said, 'Oh, no, not Polly, she was just a baby and I loved her!'. Anyway, I think they're finally gone now, but I'm going to do one more comb just to make sure, in case perhaps little Roland or Uncle Frank are still hiding in there somewhere.
So, yes, the hols carry on, and I'm almost forgetting about my ambitions to become a novelist. The way things stand, I'm less bothered about being a good writer, and more bothered about being an adequate bathroom cleaner...we had some people over the other night who might be posted to Nepal and wanted to talk about it, and I couldn't shut up about the joys of domestic staff. The poor things finally managed to escape after a couple of hours of my ranting on about how nice it was not to have to tidy anything up for three years. Sigh.
Hubby finally has a job, sort of. He's been in work this week, but then is off for the rest of the hols. We're going camping next week. At least, that's the plan, but have you seen the blooming weather forecast? Honestly, I think another four days at Butlin's would be preferable to camping in the rain. Maybe I should just become too ill to go and send the rest of the family off so that I can stay home and finish my dissertation?