AN UPTURNED tin of treacle got the week off to a bad start. The gooey mess in the cupboard was made all the more unbearable by The Husband's smugness.
He's always said it's soft giving the children treacle on their porridge and what's the matter with a sprinkling of sugar?
Then, of course, everybody pointed out that whoever it was who knocked it over wasn't really responsible. It was all down to me not putting the lid on properly.
Such trivialities as all the tins stuck together and leakage down into the pots and pans below wouldn't normally result in this level of fury. It just, to use a corny pun, put the tin hat on the last few weeks' worth of snowbound frustrations.
You-know-who is still disappearing every day in my car. His is stuck in the snow and couldn't go anywhere even if it wasn't. Who's He kidding anyway, having sporty tyres at his age?
Thoughts must go to the farmers. My brother was featured for a few moments on the local television news, fothering up the animals. The reporter and cameraman had told him to look miserable, but with all the defrosting of water troughs by hand with the kitchen kettle that he and my father have been doing, it wasn't a difficult direction to follow.
A new pair of wellies has brought a smile to the faces of some of the school gate mothers. Sick of getting holes in posh buckled ones that offer absolutely no grip whatsoever, a pair were bought (in a half-hour window when He wasn't out in the car) for 7.
"Have you got my wellies on mummy?" asked The Daughter. It's an easy mistake to make as they're absolutely identical to the children's ones. They have fantastic grip but the problem is – and this is what made everybody laugh – they're very narrow in the leg.
Their being built for standing in an agricultural gap means getting my little tree trunks down is rather difficult. They're kind of perched on, teetering on the brink of covering a bit of ankle. They certainly don't go much higher, they're not blather-proof height. But at least they don't have holes.
People keep asking what the children want for Christmas. When The Mother-in-Law rang to inquire about gift lists, the Husband intercepted with "About 100 litres of heating oil each" which had her flummoxed for a moment or two until she realised it was a joke. Well, presumably it was.
Unable to bear the cold in our bedroom (it has three outside-facing stone walls) one night I put jeans and jumper on top of the pyjamas.
Being so cold has played havoc with the diet. In fact, must dash to knock up a sponge pudding. Well, it would be shame to let all that treacle go to waste …