While getting on with my work early this afternoon, the community midwife arrived at our door to measure, weigh, and inspect my granddaughter.

It’s been remarkably quiet in the house over the last few days.

My eldest daughter arrived home from Japan this evening – a bucket-list trip she has been saving towards for several years.

One minute you’re calling that girl you met and asking if she might to go out for a drink.

The problem I vaguely alluded to this weekend has returned to bite us in the ass once more.

After a relatively peaceful week at home, everything was thrown into disarray last night.

After spending a night in a hotel near Charles de Gaulle airport in Paris last night, my eldest daughter boarded a plane to Amsterdam first thing this morning, then finally boarded a hopefully more reliable Boeing 787 to Osaka mid-afternoon.

While emptying my head into the shiny new bullet journal a few minutes ago, it struck me that I haven’t written in the blog today – and I really should, because I would scarcely believe the chaos and mayhem currently surrounding me in years to come unless I write it down.

I’m not sure I’ve really written about something rather siesmic that’s going on in our family at the moment.

The universe sometimes exhibits a wonderful sense of humor.