This evening, in an unprecedented display of sun-abuse, Anthony peeled pretty much the entirety of the top of his feet off in one go.

Yep, we make our own fun in this house.

I applied for a Proper Job - I don't think I mentioned this. It was as designer for Heinemann Library. The concept of applying for it was sort of foisted upon my by a small and sudden conspiracy, but the idea grew on me. I was really rather hoping for it. The idea of that sort of normality, focus, remuneration and an actual job description (as opposed to "Dee can do anything", which is flattering but aggravating) really intrigued.

Anyway, I didn't get it. Which is what I predicted as soon as I actually started wanting it. There's something of a trend that way, recently. I start out not really caring, talk myself into wanting it, and then I don't get it.

There's probably something deep, psychological and Freudian in all this. But I had a dream the other day where a cat sucked out my eyeball, so frankly I don't want to think too much about what things mean.