It's been one of those days when I've rushed around like a lunatic; one of those days when you think it's 10pm and actually it's wishful thinking - it's only 5.30pm and that magic glass of wine is still a while off.
This morning started with a trip to the park, in what felt like sub-zero temperatures. I think I'm becoming one of those Victorian nannies obsessed with "getting some fresh air" in all weathers. The next thing you know, I'll be insisting on flannels until May, cod liver oil, and button boots.
Anyway, M climbed up and down slides, swung on swings, visited the rabbits (who were all nibbling on halves of melon, rather like some scene at a Hawaiian beach bar) and attempted to feed the ducks (who were surprisingly hungry after their usual weekend sliced-white blowout).
This was followed by an afternoon of taxi duties, a trip round Tesco, a not-half-bad cappuccino in the Tyneside Coffee Rooms (who were sweet enough to bring M her own espresso cup full of frothy milk with chocolate sprinkles on top) and then two hours of wrangling four children under 7 so a friend could go to a parents' evening.
All surprisingly enjoyable (except the bit this morning when my fingers gave up in protest at the cold, and turned blue, even though they were inside some rather posh leather gloves). But knackering. So this evening's been a washout. Tea and some telly for once. In fact, returning to the whole American election theme, some vintage Matt Santos.
I'm rather looking forward to tomorrow morning, though, when I get to do some work in peace.