What a morning. Tom’s been away working in London for the last couple of days which means that the boys’ good behaviour benchmark has gone downwards. Apparently the wrath of one dad is less of a threat than the wrath of two. So, we’ve had low-level irritating squabbles a-plenty this morning; poking each other’s ribs, violent cushion fights that are on the wrong side of the fun/fight border and farting in faces including one very potent one from Richard right into my mouth whe

It’s 20 minutes before the head teacher, Mr Hovers, rings his huge bell right into my unsuspecting face (not a euphemism, naughty), signalling the children to join their chaotic queues in the playground. We’ve just set-off in the car and we’re sitting in a static traffic jam on the city’s inner-ring road. We haven’t moved for a minute or two and it’s hammering down, like literally raining so hard that I can barely see. I’m starting to wonder whether the school up the road has

It’s nice and bright this morning, so the boys have been delivered to school in their vibrant bright red polo shirts, no need for sweatshirts or coats, thank you very much. Realised half-way across the park between the library car park and school that Lyall’s trousers were on backwards. Absolutely no embarrassment or shame what-so-ever from Lyall, who proudly swaggered along with his hands awkwardly in his back-to-front pockets. To make it even more obvious, he stuffed his ba