The body of a child, the head of a walrus.

Just when I thought the school runs couldn’t get any worse, they did.   I now have an additional 22km leg, which is hideous, although not without its moments of amusement:

I should point out that this car was the only one involved in this accident.  Actually, I’m not even sure that you can call such fuckwittage-ness an accident - there has to have been some element of intent involved.  How else would you get your car up onto the central reservation of a highway – backwards?  (You can also see me being scathing about it over here.)

Otherwise,  nothing else of any interest is happening here.  I am driving driving driving the live-long day (7am-920am;  130pm-245pm;  then usually some sort of late afternoon child-ferrying), about which you will have to take my word is even more dull for me than it is for you.  (Today’s whirling ball of stress was spiced up by a forgotten – and crucial – gym bag, so off I went, a dutiful little parenting lamb, spitting nails and muttering to myself, and worrying people in cars nearby who could see me yelling and banging the dashboard with my fist.)

So you can understand the MAJOR excitement yesterday when my textpat spouse dragged me off to the Singapore equivalent of Costco – I was *this* close to crying off, zombified as I am these days and unwilling to do ANY MORE DRIVING (this place is as close to Malaysia as you can get without finding that the government has slipped a couple of million into your bank account – or, more likely, taken it out) but she lured me with the promise of cheap groceries and European produce, and SHE WOULD DRIVE.

Reader, it was wonderful.  We oohed and ahhhhed and caressed things, and instantly signed up, and then piled our trolleys high with such items of wonderousness as this:

And this:

I concede that this isn’t such a big deal really – oh look, a large supermarket which sells stuff – but for me, starved of grocery-novelty, it is HEAVEN.  (I have just had the cider and it was the sweet Somerset nectar of the Gods.)   

By the time I got home from Round II of my new favourite game, Is My Arse Now The Same Shape As the Car Seat?, a large sea was falling from the sky and we were all wet and cold – or close to cold as you can get when the temperature has plummeted to a chilly 27° - and I found myself thinking wistfully of the crates of instant Cup A Soup I had poo-pooed in Singaporean Costco Eden. So instead I made my own, which took 20 minutes, and was so good I finished the lot.

Just when I was starting to think that maybe, on balance, it wasn’t the worst day I’d ever had, I brought the Baby to the doctor where a sweet, quiet, similar-aged deigned to pick up and use her abandoned sticky plaster, and the Baby screamed at her with such vehemence that both the girl and her mother got quite upset and when the abuse continued - through my mouth-clasping hand - they actually got up and left the surgery!  And if that wasn't enough SHAME AND HORROR, she later asked a boy at the taxi stand if "you is wearing a mask, or is you just weird-looking?"  

He wasn't wearing a mask.

And not for the first time yesterday I wished that I could just lie down on the ground and go to sleep.

20 Minute / Almost Instant Cup A Soup

(This is basically carrot and lentil soup.   Which is not to be knocked, as it is a thing of delight and wonderousness.)

You need:  (for about two large bowls / four cups /one distended stomach)

• Some oil – olive / whatevs
• Clove of garlic, crushed
• One carrot
• Four handfuls of dried red lentils (I’m starting my own measuring system)
• About 1 litre of stock (whatever you have)
• Squeeze of lemon.
• Handful of fresh coriander (optional)

Heat the oil, and add the crushed garlic.

When it’s starting to sizzle grate the carrot directly into the pot.  Stir well, add a splash of stock, and leave to bubble for a couple of minutes.

Add the lentils and the rest of the stock.  Bring to the boil, then cover and simmer for about 10-15 mins, or until the lentils are soft. 

Puree with a machiney thing, mash with a mashey thing, or leave as is.  Add a squeeze of lemon and chopped coriander, if you have it.

THAT’S IT. 

Eat with an accompanying bottle of cider, while Googling "ways to temporarily mute small children".