beckity

OK, let me get this straight. We pay the commune to reserve space outside our new house to make room for the movers. Despite it being a quiet road, we decide to pay the fee and have the signs so that we have an easy move. When the movers arrive however, your car is parked in the reserved space. The movers call the police, my husband asks round the neighbours to see if they know who the owner of the car is, and the movers have a cigarette break (paid for by us, 100 euros an hour). The police finally arrive, check the signs, and call someone to tow your car. The police tell us we can get a document to claim the money we've wasted on the movers while we wait for your car to be towed. We decide that would be a further waste of time and agree not to. Today, you come to our house, complaining that you didn't see the signs and demanding half of the fee charged to get your car back. We, who paid more because you didn't see what we paid for to be there. Not going to happen.

In a few weeks, when the dust has settled, remind me to tell you about the time I almost burned down the flat by leaving a pan of pasta on the hob while I went to a routine hospital appointment. For a few hours. And then ask about the insurance refusing to cover the repairs to the door the firemen broke down. If I'm a bit hazy on details, you can ground it in the week that one of the guys working on the house almost cut through his arm and had to be operated on for five hours, and how the ambulance guys, since they heard it was done with a knife, turned up with police cars in tow, to find out the full extent of this knife fight. At least Marek now knows where the police station in is our new neighbourhood. Remind me how relieved I was about having hired people here legally and covered by insurance. Once I've told you that story, you can ask about the time a couple of weeks later when we had three sets of house guests, and we moved house. By then, I'll be sitting back in our...

I pass the hot crumpet quickly from hand to hand and drop it onto my plate. 'More!' Elsie says, pointing at it. 'More please Mummy,' I correct, and put a layer of margarine on it, allowing it to melt into the holes. 'Would you like honey on your crumpet?' I ask, and look at Elsie for her nod. Instead, she brings her hand to her mouth, makes a fist and starts tooting. I struggle to keep my face straight. 'Crumpet' I repeat. 'Not trumpet.'

I stick my head around the door and scan the little faces. Elsie's eyes meet mine and she grins, slowly rising from her sprawl on the floor next to a little blond boy. She points at him and explains, wide-eyed 'dwah-buh beri booli ooh.' I nod and smile as she walks over to me, open the little gate and kiss her head. After exchanging pleasantries with the lady on duty, we walk hand in hand out to the corridor, Elsie pausing briefly to wave her other hand and solemnly declare 'bah bayeee' as the lady smiles and replies with 'a demain'. I lift her onto a chair in the cloakroom and she tugs at her slippers. As she puts them in her shoe bag, I lace up her trainers and ask her how her day was. After a brief smile, a thumb is stuck in place and she listens patiently as I explain what's going to happen next. 'We'll walk home, and when we get back you can have something to eat.' I say 'Nana, kek?' she asks hopefully. 'Well, you've ...

The morning I woke up and *just* felt the familiar uncomfortable swell of morning sickness was strangely comforting. The tummy bug that had made me sick throughout the previous night had settled down, my tummy's gurgling brought to a standstill. The week before, part of the blob's placenta came away from my uterus panicking me into thinking I was miscarrying. Doctors put me on hormones (because that's clearly one thing pregnant women are lacking...) to slow me down and help the repair (read, 'knock me out') and since taking the final pill, they had finally worn off, and I was no longer seeing my world through a blur. A small triumph, I lifted my head from the pillow and faced another day.

I close the book and turn it over, half-expecting the 'geh-geh' Elsie's chosen to say for 'again' and has said every time I've finished the book for the last few days. It's her  book of the moment after all, with rich pictures on each page full of objects she can name. 'Ball! Bear! Shoe! Car!' I barely have to read it. Instead though, she points at the title, and clear as anything, says 'encore!' My jaw drops and I realise a week back at the creche has done its job. 'Sorry?' I ask, eyebrows raised, not believing my ears. Elsie blinks, looks right into my face and 'encore!' she repeats. I squeeze her tight, kiss her head and start the book again.

Elsie wanders round the flat sporting her sad face. 'Dah-dee' she says 'Dah-deeee'. 'Daddy's still at work, my love' I explain, getting a puzzle out of the box. 'He'll be home soon'. She wanders over and looks at the puzzle. 'Will you help me?' I ask, and she sadly shakes her head. 'Dah-dee' she continues to wonder. 'Shall we call him and see when he'll be back?' I ask, and get an enthusiastic nod. I dial the number and put the phone on loadspeaker. 'Are you going to say hello when he answers?' I ask and Elsie starts practising 'ello Dah-dee! Ello Dah-dee!' 'Hello?' he says and there's a moment of uncertainty when Elsie's eyes meet mine. I nod my encouragement. 'ELLO Dah-DEE!' she says into the phone, a huge grin spreading across her face as he tells her what a clever girl she is.