Music and Cuddles

Work is taking over my life. It's official. Matt has started making this new sort of groany noise every time I start a sentence with "I've had another idea for a feature..." or asking him "how many investigative pieces do you think I'd need to write before I get nominated for an award?" (I know).

It's not my fault that magazine features about death and post natal depression aren't as rock and roll as, well, rock and roll. Wearing my supportive wife hat (which is less glamourous than my old supportive girlfriend headband, but equally appreciated), I went along to the studio (man) today where Matt's band were recording. I took Eliott who loved every moment of it. It was quite something to see a toddler confronted with all those knobs and buttons! The first thing he did when we arrived was lay flat on the floor in the middle of the recording room - you might say it was overwhelming for him.

Matt's band are currently rocking (they've seen the light at last), which is great. They might even try to "do something" with these latest recordings, which should be interesting. Although given the subject matter of my latest feature (Casualties of Fame), I shouldn't really be egging him on!

My Friday deadline is looming in every sense of the word. My interview last week was amazing (I'll share more details when the piece is published), but finding more case studies is really tough.

Did I mention work has taken over?

So, Eliott! Well, Eliott is tres gorgeous. Cuddles are the new schmoo, demanded at every touch and turn. We spent most of our bus journey from Wimbledon to Tooting this morning locked in a bear hug with him shouting "no, no, no" in my ear everytime I tried to let go (not that I wanted to, but people were staring). In an attempt to wean him off repeated viewings of Back to the Future (now known as "Bo"), we've finally got him bang into books; but as with all Eliott's "likes", we have to read the same books over and over and over again, morning, noon and night. Certain pages have to be skipped, actions have to be performed EXACTLY how he dictates and tantrums can only be avoided if a prescribed amount of zest and enthusiasm for Duck and his bloody missing Key are displayed (you don't even want to know).

Oh and his swimming instructor reckons he might be swimming without armbands before the end of the summer. Crikey. He really is the Boy from Atlantis. Without the Patrick Duffy leg.