Amelie came up to me this morning and said "Daddy, will you tell me how to spell everything?". I was a bit concerned that she wanted me to run through the whole dictionary, but as it transpired, she just wanted me to spell the word 'everything'. She was writing a sign for the opening of her new shop, and that's what she'd decided to sell.

To be honest, I could do with a cut-price retailer in the family at the moment, as we seem to be having to replace most of our worldly possessions. Not only has our kettle blown up for no apparent reason, but Toby's last holiday hurrah was to put my mobile phone in a glass of water, and despite all my best efforts, I've been unable to get it working again.

We returned from Wiltshire on Friday afternoon, and with my phone only capable of calling mermaids, I headed straight down to Asda yesterday morning to get a new one. Big Sis has promised me her old iPhone, but I can't have it until she's remembered to tell everyone her new number, so in the meantime I've gone with a cheap alternative which cost me less than the new kettle, and is more likely to bring me to boiling point.

The highlight of that particular shopping trip was when I agreed to let Amelie put a coin in a charity collecting box which was raising money for the ME Association . Amelie asked me (no pun intended) what it was for, so I told her it was to help people who have an illness which makes them feel tired all the time. Upon hearing that news, her face immediately lit up and she exclaimed "I think Mummy's got that!".

I said "No, I think Mummy's got you". Although I admit the symptoms are similar.

Anyhoo, one thing I didn't mention about our holiday is that we visited Dick Dastardly's house and saw Muttley's food bowl...

But as it happens, that wasn't the only gorgeous bird I photographed (see yesterday's picture of Lisa). I also took the photo on the left...

That particular feathered friend was soaring across the skies above Trowbridge on Thursday afternoon. Being ornithological experts with a wide knowledge of British bird life, we decided it was a Golden Eagle. Or possibly a pterodactyl. But having visited the RSPB website and realised there's a limit to how far south birds will fly for the winter (never mind the summer), I eventually matched it with that drawing of a buzzard.

Interestingly, the RSPB page about buzzards states that "In some areas they are known as the tourists' eagle, often being mistaken for this larger bird of prey". It doesn't state how many people think they're pterodactyls, but I'm sure we're not alone there either.