Scary Monsters

(1) There is a huge huntsman roaming our shed. Grumpy cheerfully pointed it out when I had to go in there and move boxes around and delve into dark corners. I was trying to be a grown-up about it but I was feeling decidedly jumpy. I'd just begun to calm down when Finnegan, who has ditched his collar and his bell and therefore moves in total silence, leapt out at me from nowhere. I screamed blue bloody murder. I wish I wasn't the type of person who got heart palpitations in the presence of dripping fangs and eight hairy legs, but I am. Oh God. It's waiting for me, I just know it. It wants to land on me.

(2) The Antiquer came over for dinner on Saturday night with his girlfriend and their three-year-old daughter, Small Thing. When they eventually left, I was shattered and I'd only been drinking water all evening. As delightful as Small Thing is, by golly that kid can screech. The screeching and screeching. I almost wanted to weep with relief when they said they were going. We ushered them out the door and I collapsed into a chair, expressing my relief to Grumpy. He was similarly traumatised and somewhat glassy-eyed. When I said I couldn't cope with the screeching as a daily occurrence he agreed and referred to a former colleague of his who was forever dishing out the advice: "That's why Yolanda always said you should have kids before you get too comfortable." Believe me, I'm mighty comfortable.

(3) A friend's mum died and, after the funeral, her five-year-old son asked her if her mother had been cremated naked or with clothes on. Pretty important question when you consider the fire-retardant qualities of a lot of material these days.