My trip to Bristol to visit my lovely granddaughter, Charlotte, unexpectedly extended into a visit to Oxfordshire to babysit Millie and Benjamin. Having three grandchildren under the age of three keeps me busy in the nicest ways: I get to visit the zoo and parks and farms; read wonderful children's books, old favourites and some excellent new ones; find endless inspiration for knitting and sewing projects and get lots of cuddles.
The only downside to being a grandma is exposure to the incredibly virulent colds that toddlers get when they are cutting teeth and both Charlotte and Benjamin shared their germs with me in a most generous fashion. By the time I drove home on Friday I had lost my voice completely and it still hasn't returned. The funny thing is that until I start to speak I don't know that I'm speechless! My voice ranges from strangled squeaks and whistles to the lowest register of Fenella Fielding's but in no predictable sequence! I can now empathise with teenage boys.