Home Shifting

We have finally moved out of our old flat - which was a tiny two bedroom apartment - into a new flat - far, far more spacious.

Will post later about the actual housemoving process which was a lot of fun. But I am just so RELIEVED as of now with the new place.

Basically, we were a small family when we moved into our older flat 4 years ago - two of us working parents and one kid and a maid. Then the twins came along, Vijay's parents moved in, and net-net - suddenly there were EIGHT of us!

I once saw a sign on the door to the office of a famous psychiatrist ( I was interviewing her, NOT getting treatment, in case you're wondering - although there's no shame in therapy, ha ha) - which said ''Dr Anjali's Own Sacred Space''

I feel something similar about my own large room ( oh, there's a husband sharing it but that's a minor detail) - am thinking of putting up a sign that says

''Finally, Space for Mah Own Crap''.

Not the same, but similar.

*Breathes sigh of relief*

And Here Comes The Book - Just Married, Please Excuse!

Just a quick update, then.

After the loooongest wait, the most exciting thing ever for me ( oh yeah, the first pregnancy and then the twins aside, blah blah blah) is about to happen very shortly.

In April, my Book comes out.

Yes, sir. While I've been reasonably silent about it in the last few months because it was just SO far away, the time has come!

After much debating and voting on Facebook on the name, I had finally selected a couple of options - which the darling Chief Editor at Harper Collins vetoed, and I bow to her (significantly) higher wisdom in such matters.

Be prepared thus, to buy multiple copies of a rather amusing read ( so I've been told by some very few people who have read it so far) called: (Drum roll, please)

Just Married, Please Excuse!

By Yashodhara Lal Sharma.

You will be hearing a lot more about it shortly. In the meantime, your congratulations and good wishes are very much welcome in Comments. And this time, I promise to reply :-)

Go on and sing out if you're looking forward to a book-sized doze of me.

And to my esteemed blogger-turned-author friends, Parul and Kiran - I shall be leaning on you for plenty of advice!

To the rest of you - I will be leaning on you to buy several copies ( each, of course). If you've enjoyed the writing for the last few weeks, months, years on the blog - now's your chance to do me some good.

And oh, the lurkers ( and I KNOW there are lots of you, Statcounter tells me everyday) - your chance to say 'Hello and Good Luck' now. Go on, don't be shy.

More Bad Parenting

* The woollen patch:

For the longest time, my daughter's school had been asking for a 10*10 inch patch of wool, to make a blanket for the poor as a community service project. How noble, I thought and didn't do anything about it.

After a couple of months, we got a note saying that it was nearing the last date for the project and therefore, could we please kindly send the patch. Sure, sure, I thought and didn't do anything about it.

Two days before the last date, I panicked and told Vijay that we need to give them the patch of wool.

'Cut up some sweater?' he suggested. I scoffed - that was a ridiculous idea. If we were to do something for the poor, they would benefit from an old sweater in its original shape than as dismantled to form part of a blanket.

'I will knit it!' I said. I was due to take leave and thought this would be a cakewalk. I used to knit, back when I was a child. Okay, one time when I was about twelve, I knit a scarf for a Needlework class. With my mother's help.

'Hahahahaha' said Vijay.

I politely questioned his laughing at me and he proceeded to politely question my sanity. 'Do you know how long it takes to knit a 10*10 inch patch?'

'Ohh! A couple of hours, probably!' I said carelessly.

He looked like he was going to argue but then a look of strange calm settled on his features and he said demurely 'Sure honey. Go ahead'.

When we finally went shopping that evening, I found the knitting needles and wool- nice bright red wool- fairly quickly - from two different shops. The implements and raw material turned out somewhat incompatible with each other - and with my requirements. Basically, I bought really thin wool and thin needles which later on would cause me to want to tear my hair out, because it would end up taking so terribly long to complete even one row of stitches. For the time being, I just waved them cheerfully and triumphantly at Vijay.

Only later, when I had struggled enough with youtube videos trying to learn how to get started - (''How the hell do you tie a slip knot??'', playing the video over and over and frustrating Vijay enough to finally grab the wool from me and tie the knot himself ) did it occur to me that this would perhaps take longer than a couple of hours.

Over the next two days, I was bleary eyed - almost cross-eyed - with the effort of trying to create the 10 inch by 10 inch patch. The various problems were as follows -

* I was out of touch with knitting and had no rhythm whatsoever.
* The wool and knitting needles, as mentioned before, were just too thin. It was like working with needle and thread. Almost.
* Pickle and Papad kept unravelling it while Peanut kept asking when it was going to be ready - every 5 minutes.
* I misjudged everything while making the first row -and what I thought was a 10 inch row eventually turned out to be almost two feet long. Therefore, every subsequent row took as long. Longer, as I grew more bleary eyed and cranky.
* Let's be frank. I suck at knitting.

I was doing very intricate and beautiful work for about the first four rows. Then a feeling of despair set in as I realized this was taking way too long and I wouldn't be able to finish it, and all the other interruptions started to set in. The next four rows therefore were terribly patchy - I was distracted and started to drop stitches and then try and recover, leaving some gaping holes in the middle. Then, when I took a close look at the work so far, I felt really guilty about the patchy work and so the last four rows I did were also intricate and beautiful. All in all, I put in about six hours on the patch over two days, and that's all I could do - twelve rows.

I told myself - and Vijay and Peanut - that maybe it didn't really HAVE to be a square patch and a rectangular one would do just as well. I privately imagined that the teachers would be quite horrified but perhaps the community blanket could have my little pathetic patch sewn on in one corner - almost like a label or something on which they could say 'With love from Nursery E' or something sweet like that. I convinced myself that this would be fine and that it was really ALMOST square anyway. I closed the stitches. And sat back. In horror.

I had made a patch that was not just two feet wide, but also a mere 4 inches in height. I had thought once I remove the knitting needles I would be able to stretch the patch somehow to make it look square, but there is a slight difference between 10 inches by 10 inches and 24 inches by 4 inches. To top it all, it wasn't even consistently pretty. It had that four rows right in the middle which were sure to allow cold air in during harsh winters for the poor person who got to eventually use it. It was not good. It was just...weird.

I was depressed and guilty and Vijay swayed between mocking and sympathetic. But Peanut was quite happy about the whole thing - she cheerfully snatched the finished product from me and took it to school. I asked her anxiously later what her teacher had said and she said -

''She said it's ooookayyyy'.

From the tone I could gather - Peanut is a very good mimic - that her class teacher had been disgusted but recognized that since it was not Peanut's fault but her errant mother's, some amount of damage control was necessary and thus, she had basically used her most comforting and sympathetic tone while talking to my child. Fair enough.

My children can probably use all the comfort and sympathy they get.

In my defense, I must conclude by saying that all of this will probably teach them to be strong and self-reliant individuals in the future.

:-(

P.S - also, nothing much has changed since my childhood. I STILL HATE SCHOOL.

Bharatpur Day 2

I can't believe I haven't found time to complete the Bharatpur story. Therefore, quick attempt. This will be, unlike the previous post, just notes on the highlights.

Highlights, therefore:

1. We went cycling the next day in the Keola dev national park and my bottom hurt for a week or so after that. The landmark here is that this is the first post that mentions my bottom. It's a strange feeling. Moving along, quickly, the cycling was the BEST fun. This was in spite of the fact that there were no ladies cycles available and I had to ride a man's cycle which was too big for me and was in serious danger of hurting me and ensuring that I would not be able to bear a fourth child .... Hey...first post that mentions my...never mind. Vijay taught me how to ride properly, dismount (without hurting myself) and to pedal with maximum output and least effort. Useful two hours. And we saw some birds too.

2. Vijay was insistent that the rickshaw driver I had given a big tip to the day before would be lying somewhere drunk in a ditch - my heart leapt for joy when we spotted him at the end of our cycling trip - he had been anxiously looking out for us 'Un log ko aaj kaun andar le gaye'? He was mollified to note that we had taken ourselves in on bicycles; and I haughtily told Vijay he must have more faith in people since the man was talking to us and clearly NOT lying drunk in a ditch somewhere.

3. Vijay converted himself from a scoffer-of-my-mother's-many-cameras into a Canon-toting-shutterbug, who developed a fascination for photography and took some really lovely shots of some birds including me...i mean, and also me... which I have put up on Facebook in case any of you are interested.

4. I got to pat a stray black puppy and try out my newly cultivated American accent, just for a lark. Both activities drove Vijay crazy, as a dog-hater as well as a 'angrez-log' hater. Well, he doesn't hate either, he just doesn't like them much. I later subjected him to my American accent while we were driving back to Delhi and to his credit, he did not actually carry out his threat of throwing me out of the car.

5. We ate too much in the Bagh's wonderful restaurant and basked in the sun after every meal. The Moong-dal-ka-halwa was to die for. I died for it. And became a little fatter, I'm sure. Heavenly, heavenly meals. I told myself that the cycling had ensured that I could take the extra calories. It's okay to lie to yourself while on Holiday. In fact, it is a pre-requisite to enjoyment.

6. Vijay continued to fluster and annoy people, even the lovely staff at the restaurant - the nice waiter said 'how many cubes sugar, sir', only to be spontaneously told 'Mujhe to der cube ( or however you write the hindi word for one-and-a-half) chahiye'. The man hovered uncertainly until Vijay assured him that just one cube would do.

We had to rush back one day earlier because the kids were apparently inconsolable without me at night - and in short, ended up only staying for two days instead of three. We managed to squeeze in a place called Deeg, which was nice but not faaantastic, you know what I mean? Will try and write a bit more about that later. Dammit, it's been so long that I've lost my notes on the trip. Must not let so much time pass before posting again.

But overall- it was the best, best trip possible and our annual holiday was an unqualified success, even though it was very short.

Highly recommended, Bharatpur.

To Bharatpur and Back Again

It’s time of the year when one’s leaves are about to expire. Strangely, I had taken absolutely no leave this entire year, and therefore was forced to reluctantly part ways with the Office for a period of two weeks from the 16^th of December until the New Year.

The plan is to sit at home and sort out a few things and spend some time with the kids. But to kick things off, it was time for Vijay and Y’s mini-break. The last one was when we went to Jaipur over a weekend to attend a friend’s wedding. This time, I was just not getting time to plan things and my mother and sister were goading me towards this. They took to messaging me every day for the last week or so as to whether I had figured out yet where we were going. After I’d said no a few times, my sister said ‘Why don’t you just go and stay at the Leela Hotel in Chanakyapuri and leave the kids at mom’s place?’

Sarcasm.

I tried researching for a while, asked around, couldn’t decide and finally gave it all up to higher powers.

‘Ma’ I wailed desperately on the phone ‘Please help!’

‘Sure, I’ll do it’. My mother’s impressive organizational skills all kicked into action and after several SMS and email exchanges, I figured that Bharatpur sounded like the best of the available options.

‘It’s a Bird sanctuary’ I told Vijay ‘The nice thing is we’ll be able to go cycling’

‘Sure’ he said, poring over his presentation ‘Whatever you say, Honey’.

And so the booking was done.

The day before we were to leave, my friend Shome took us over to see his new place for a quick drink. He asked what plans for the weekend and I told him. ‘Oh Bharatpur, it’s quite nice’ he said.

We then looked over at Vijay, whose hand had frozen on the way while transporting his whiskey to his mouth.

‘We’re going to a BIRD sanctuary?’ he said, looking completely appalled ‘And we’re going to CYCLE? What kind of holiday is THAT!?’

I looked daggers at him and Shome took a sip of his own whiskey, looking unnaturally pleased as he said ‘Oh dear, oh dear’.

Anyway, it was settled that we would be going. The minor matter of packing occurred to us only the next morning, and we were an hour late setting out. As usual, we took far more stuff than we would end up using.

‘What’s THIS?’ Vijay held out a black bag.

‘Oh, Mother has sent her video camera, and the Sony Cybershot’.

‘I see’ said Vijay, eyeing the bag distrustfully ‘What’s wrong with our camera?’

‘Our camera sucks’ I said plaintively ‘I’ve been saying let’s buy a new camera, but you…’

‘Okay, okay’ he said ‘What’s THIS, then?’ He pointed to another larger bag.

‘Oh’ I said in a smaller voice ‘Mother has sent her Canon also. She said it’s a bit complex because of the multiple lenses, but there’s a manual in there that you can study. She also said we should pick up the Binoculars from Bua…’

‘Uh Huh’ said Vijay, half-amused, half-exasperated as he picked up all the various bags I had laid out. We said goodbye to various crying children and left.

It had been decided that it was time for the two of us to get some alone time, away from the kids. This is never an easy thing, especially for me. Or the kids. Vijay has travelled several times in the last couple of years, but I’ve not done anything more than a day trip. Nighttimes are especially rough because I’m still feeding. But then, we figured, we needed a break, and my sister Gitanjali had promised to come home and hold fort.

Therefore it was off to Bharatpur that we went.

We drove out later than planned, but in unusually good moods nevertheless. When Vijay and I were younger and in Bangalore and a carefree childless couple, we would often just bung ourselves into our car and drive off to some nearby weekend destination. There were so many places around Bangalore, and these little trips were what made life worth living in those days.

This trip now reminded me of those earlier trips, with Vijay being the driver, refusing to let me drive even a bit – and me being the navigator – in those days struggling with the Eicher Maps, and now struggling with the Google Maps on Vijay’s iPhone. After a while, however, I got the hang of it and was completely and thoroughly impressed with the sheer usefulness of this application.

‘Take a right’ I said with supreme confidence staring at Google Maps.

‘Where?’ Vijay looked around ‘There is no right turn here at all!’

‘Don’t argue with Google Maps’ I barked.

Thanks to my blind trust in Google Maps, we soon found ourselves on a highway called the KMP Expressway, which turned out to be an ambitious project currently under construction. Every few minutes, we thought we had reached a dead end. But we pressed on regardless and made painful progress.

‘Yeh hamari Innova jab tak lautenge, Maruti 800 ban gayi hogi’ Vijay grimaced as he revved up the engine to negotiate yet another muddy hill.

‘It’s an adventure!’ I said happily and chimed in my most nasal voice ‘Picture Time’ and took a snap of him.

He was worried ‘You don’t know anything about cars..saare funde gol hain…iss car ki to four wheel drive bhi nahin hai’.

‘Aha’ I sang ‘Now I know you’re lying…the Innova has four wheels. I’ve counted’. I whipped out my camera again and chimed ‘Picture time’.

‘Ignorance really is bliss’ He grumbled. Then he saw my downcast face and said in his most nasal voice to cheer me up ‘Picture Time’. It worked. I beamed at him and continued to take pictures of the flora, fauna and him.

Finally, the road sorted itself out and we eventually made our way to Bharatpur. We were staying at a beautiful resort called The Bagh. I asked when we reached, rather stupidly whether they had a garden for us to see. They assured us that they did, and the kind and courteous staff escorted us to our room and our mini-break began.

And what a mini break it was. I can’t remember a nicer holiday.

Day one, we had reached in the afternoon around one p.m. We had a sumptuous lunch. Vijay pretended to think a lot and finally ordered Gobi Paranthas and Alu-Gobi, while I had an entire Butter Chicken to myself. The food was absolutely awesome. We fought off the urge to sleep and went to explore the Keoladeo National Park. I had wanted to go cycling, but settled for the Cycle Rickshaw Ride since we still had the next morning to do the Cycle thing.

Phool Singh, a scrawny old man was our chosen rickshaw puller, and Vijay kept asking him all sorts of personal questions, interrupting him while he tried to tell us about and show us the various birds on offer. The park was really beautiful and despite my lack of interest in anything beginning with Ornith-, I found myself curious to see what Phool Singh was really on about – he and Vijay seemed to be able to see all the birds while I was blinking around shortsightedly. Finally, I buried my vanity and dug out my glasses and put them on and peered through them. Vijay cackled in amusement and then quickly turned it into a cough.

Phool Singh, Vijay extracted, had five children, all girls. Vijay chastised him for his life choices and went on to check whether he planned to make sure of all of them got a good education, and even asked him how often he drank – going as far as to ask which particular type of alcohol including brand and quantity he chose to drink. Phool Singh said he drank merely once a week, Aristocrat Whiskey.

The birds were truly lovely and even Vijay started to take an interest in them after a while. Phool Singh demonstrated how many different languages he could name the birds in, given the number of foreign tourists who came by, and the fact he had been here from 1996.

‘Parakeet’ pointed Phool Singh ‘Isse German mein Paragon kehte hai…aur Israeli log to isse Tukki Kehte hai’.

‘Tukki?’ Vijay gasped, looking aghast ‘Unhe bolo dhang se bole!’

When Vijay gets into the mood, he has this habit of saying strange things to people. He went on to do more of the same, when we stopped at the little Temple in the park. The Panditji pointed to the little idol and said ‘Aur yeh Keoladeo National Park…’

Vijay interrupted him excitedly ‘Achha, yeh national park hai?’

Panditji gave him a look and said ‘Keoladeo National Park ka naam inhi se mila hai…yeh hai Keoladeo…’

Vijay wisely ‘Oh’, nodding along.

I wished yet again that Vijay wouldn’t do these sort of things, and at the same time, tried to helplessly stifle my giggles.

The rickshaw-waala Phool Singh was surprised that we returned from the temple so quickly, and suggested that we take a walk around the place as there was some kind of a watchtower and some large stones with engravings commemorating the mass murder of birds by various Viceroys and Lords and those sorts.

We were feeling rather tired and therefore remarkably unenthusiastic at the prospect of climbing watchtowers and exploring things. Phool Singh must have wondered ‘Yeh kaisi Party aa gayi’, but out loud he simply continued to expound on the history of the place.

‘Yahan pe Lord Landslow ka record hai…unhone yahan pe 4,317 birds to ek din mein maara’

Vijay pointed at the ground where he was standing ‘Yahan? Issi jagah?’ with the same undue excitement he had shown the priest a while earlier.

‘Nahin sir, poore park mein’ said Phool Singh.

Vijay clearly didn’t believe him and went closer to examine the engraving. 4,317 Bag…Yeh bag kya hota hai?’

‘Bag maane sir, kitne chidiya maare unhone’.

Vijay was quite impressed now, and stood there reading the other records. A man passed by him and asked someone else loudly ‘Yeh Bag kya hota hai’.

Vijay continued muttering, but only I could hear him say ‘Bag maane sir, aapka basta’.

We finally convinced Phool Singh to take us back. It didn’t take all that much convincing given that it was almost sunset. We were looking forward to our massages, which we had decided to indulge in during the evening.

The ride back, Vijay continued to extract Phool Singh’s life plan from him. My stomach churned when he said he needed to save up for motorcycles for dowry and managed an LIC plan wherein he put in Rs.2,500 every six months towards his daughter’s marriage funds. Our massages didn’t sound so hot to me now. I said to Vijay we must give him a handsome payment for the ride. Vijay remarked that in his line of work – he works in rural marketing – if I ever accompanied him on a trip, I would likely come back a pauper myself. Never mind, I said.

He will only spend it on more drink, said Vijay.

He won’t. I was convinced. He will put it in LIC.

Vijay rolled his eyes but didn’t try to argue when I finally gave him the amount I thought would make a dent to his next LIC instalment. Vijay told him several times after that to stop drinking once a week, and make it once a month.

We headed back to a nice relaxed hour in our room, ordering two cups of tea. Afterwards, we went for the most lovely Ayurvedic Massages, Vijay clarifying firmly on the phone beforehand ‘Male to Male and Female to Female, right?’. A quiet dinner in the beautiful restaurant wherein I declared that I had finally decided that my most favorite sweet is the Moong Dal Halwa – the melt in the mouth types, leave-you-begging- for- more- even- though- your- stomach- is –begging-you-to-stop-eating-types.

I couldn’t have asked for a more amazing first day on my mini-break with my husband. We went out for a walk in the beautiful garden. It was a dark moonless night, and Vijay asked me to look up.

A sky full of stars. My childhood obsession, which I hardly ever get to see living in Gurgaon.

Just when I had thought this day couldn’t possibly get any better.

( Coming up at some point of time: Day 2 description!)

Goodbye November, Good Riddance. Hello, December. Lookin' Good...

This year has been busy and fairly stressful, but nothing beat the month of November.

The entire month, my little maid was out and we didn't know if she was coming back. Was she going to get married at her village? Was she going to decide she just couldn't take any more of the twins' capers?

So we went ahead and put them in daycare. And it didn't work for us. No sirree, not one bit.

I'm sure Daycare is the life-saver for many, many mothers - I know many of these working moms myself. But in our case, the twins just kept getting infections, infecting each other, and eventually ended up going only about 12 days of the entire month.

The worst part for me was how they cried every one of those 12 days that they were being dropped off. Of course, the fact is that they didn't get enough time to really settle in, what with all the breaks, but still. Actually, I must correct myself - their crying was still okay, because I knew that within a few minutes they would be alright. What was actually the worst part was how everytime I picked them up - they were sitting around quietly playing, looking morose and subdued and with this wondering expression that clearly said 'Where the hell are my folks?'

Anyway - now the good news. My maid came back! And I'm hoping she stays with us for a while, because it is only now that I fully realize how much we need her.

This is a seventeen year old girl called Rinki, small and slight but with luxurious long thick hair, which appears to be her one vanity. She was very quiet and shy to begin with and didn't speak any Hindi a year back when she walked in - but is now a bright and happy chatterbox - who despite being a bit hot-tempered and prone to mood swings, is very very fond of the children and generally speaking, takes great care of them, playing with them and managing them with the energy that a seventeen year old posseses - and that the actual mother of twins who will in a few years be (gasp) twice that age definitely does not.

Of course, we also have help in the good ol' trustworthy K, who with all her faults, continues to be the biggest blessing in disguise - between Rinki and the K, and some other part time help ( yes, we have a lot of help, and by God, do we need it!) - we pretty much get by.

December, kicking off with Vijay's birthday and chugging along smoothly, seems to be overall a far better month than November. I am kind of looking forward to 2012 though. Lots of excitement coming up for more than one reason, including (Yay!) possibly, potentially, probably even the book, slated for April as of now - but we'll see about that.

In the meantime though, since we're all about living in the moment, we just got back after watching the Lunar Eclipse tonight. Pretty it was, and I realized only after a few minutes that I was seeing double, squinting up through my shortsighted eyes. Once my glasses were at hand, I saw the very pretty sight of the moon being gobbled up by our shadow, and had an interesting discussion around the dining table on astronomy, physics, philosophy and life in the womb ( don't even bother asking) with Vijay and his father.

Net-net, life goes on.

Know what I mean?

Next up: in the month of January, the K decides to leave for her village for a break. DAMMIT.

Ooh aah my aching back!

Sorry, that's just like top of mind right now for me. Slept all wrong last night, twisted into various pretzel like shapes, trying to feed Pickle and prevent him from waking up and playing at 4 a.m. It worked. He slept well. Not so much Vijay and me.

I was under the impression that I was really stretched beyond belief for the last few months - until my good little maid who takes care of the twins decided to leave us. Panic not. She claims she will be back in December.

December has never seemed so far away in my three decades on this planet.

After carefully evaluating my options, including quitting my job, Vijay and I decided we would put the twins in day care. Luckily, there is a day care right next door and my friend Vani was reasonably satisfied with her experience there, and so for the last few days the Twins have been dropped off there, much to their resentment, confusion and obvious chagrin. I tried to fool them into being in a good mood at drop off time by giving them their favorite fruit - grapes.

Papad threw his grape at me while bawling in anger and frustration as the Day Care lady carried him away from me yesterday.

It is not nice to have your baby throwing grapes at you. Not when he's making that face anyway, the one that suggests 'Wait till you're an old lady and I put you in a nursing home'.

Sigh. The parenting gig continues to be tough.

Haan, so anyway, where was I? Oh yes. So yes, it's a tough-ish month, this November. But it's actually kind of cool because it's basically very intense times at work and then it's really intense time at home with several children crawling all over me. It's fun chasing them around and feeding them. Vijay continues to proudly proclaim, while gazing at them running about the park with a couple of other kids, ''I have fathered most of the children in this park''. Only a bit shady.

So the other thing that's been going on is a fair degree of visits to the doctor. The two I would like to mention here are:

* Peanut's Tooth Doctor - since she was terribly frightened of dentists, we took her to this 'Tooth Doctor' who specializes in kid's teeth - and he has taken care of 8 cavities - yes 8, we are horrible parents - over the course of about six weeks. Almost every Saturday, Vijay and I would be holding down Peanut at this hapless chappie's clinic. He also got bitten badly once by her. I felt quite sorry for him and very mortified. Only a little funny.

* Paediatrician Lady - This woman is absolutely brilliant. Have you ever seen House? I used to love House because of the way his mind works to solve complex cases for his patients. Our Paediatrician Lady is like a female Indian House. She's practised in the U.S and she has a totally different style from most doctors here - meaning, she actually thinks aloud and tells you everything that's going through her head. I so enjoy telling her the detailed symptoms and watching her piece it all together.

'Did he' she will say with a frown 'By any chance cry loudly for a brief few seconds two nights ago?'

I rack my brain and remember and say 'Oh yes, he did, at about one a.m.'

'Aha!' She will say in triumph 'I thought so. He's ruptured his eardrum. I could tell from the color of the secretions'

I faint at the thought, until she shakes me awake and tells me it's a fairly normal thing and so on. I gaze at her admiringly, thinking about how I should have listened to my Father and become a doctor myself. Female House. Sigh.

Right. Enough Ramblings. Time for sleepings. Goodnightings.

And do let me know - how is November looking for YOU?

You free to babysit?