Another day, another swing...


I'm beginning to understand why people used to let their kids stay with Michael Jackson. It's easier than taking them to the park every day. And he probably had staff to push them on the swings.

I imagine the level of pest control at the Neverland Ranch was a lot better than it is here too. Which would have avoided the mini trauma we encountered yesterday. We'd not long been back from our swingers party in the park when Amelie headed into the bathroom to powder her nose (and apply various other bits of make-up). Within seconds, we heard a scream, and she emerged in floods of tears and close to a panic attack. I assumed she'd somehow had an accident, and asked her what she'd hurt, but as it transpired, it was only her feelings.

Through the panicky sobs, she told us that the bathroom contained "a big brown insect with lots of legs", which had terrified her to such an extent that she was on the verge of moving house. It turned out to be an inch-long centipede, which might not sound like much, but was enough to get Lisa packing her bags alongside her daughter. So I was forced to step in and take decisive action. Which basically involved picking it up on the bathroom mat, tipping it into the sink, and flushing it down the plughole. It clung on for a while with at least fifty of its hundred legs, but eventually I emerged victorious. After which Amelie demanded to know where it had come from, and sought assurances that I wouldn't let any more of them into the flat. I was forced to close the bathroom window for a start.

It was ironic, as an hour earlier, she'd been happily sitting on the grass with all manner of creepy-crawlies...


And I don't mean Toby. Although he is crawling quite well now (honestly). As a general rule though, they both prefer the car...


Bonnie & Clyde, eat your heart out.