Did something rather painful to my back on Sunday night.

I was leaning over to click Euan's Scalextric into place, and something went "clunk" in my lower back.

That was it for the evening - the house got left in the mess it was in, and I went straight to bed. Euan very understandingly said, "Mummy hurta back? Aw, poor mummy. Back hurtin" and kindly didn't climb me like a tree. Couldn't move.

Monday morning was therefore fun, trying to get Euan ready for nursery. Mum came round to give us a lift and help out - partly out of concern, of course, but partly because she wanted me in work because it's the Self-Assessment deadline, and hectic, and half the team are already off sick.

She really took pity on feeble old me and my injuries, giving me a lift home, and picking us up again this morning, and again tonight. I could get used to chauffeur service...

Steve had been winding me up all day Monday about a present he'd got me. He wouldn't tell me what it was, but said I was close when I guessed that he'd hired a hitman. I was mildly worried, but mostly confused. He had an unpleasant day in work anyway, and left early for some retail therapy.

He later popped round to the house and presented me with some trainers that are a bit small for him, but fit me perfectly (as promised), and a set-top box for my TV. He knows very well that I don't have a TV licence, and I pointed this out to him. He replied with, "Yes you do."

It took a few minutes for his explanation to sink in. He'd looked me up on directory enquiries to make sure he had the address correct, then he'd bought me a TV licence. And because my TV was only ever tuned into about two channels, he'd also bought a digibox thing to make it worthwhile.

He's mad. And I told him so.

Hooked it all up and it worked. Scary. Pretty moving lights and sounds coming from that poor neglected box in the corner of the living room. Adverts! It's amazing how much novelty value can be gained from a few months abstinence.

So. Last night I watched TV with Steve. Sounds like a fairly normal night in for most people, but it felt like I was committing a crime because I'd been so used to TV simply not being an option.

He claims he did it mainly so that Euan wouldn't be bullied by the other kids.

It's a fair point.

After writing Al's babble last week I popped round to Steve's and finally saw the caravan he's bought. It's a big static one, and it's sitting in his back garden - as he pointed out, it's a lot cheaper and easier than getting a flat or whatever. We watched The Village and got tipsy on wine.

Nice quiet weekend, just stayed in because it was cold, and Euan helped me look after the chickens.

Work's been manic - Self Assessment deadline coming up means the volume of cheques increases exponentially. And everyone's been ill. And the phones have been going mad - an automated batch of several thousand reminders was sent out, without much thought given to the knock-on effects.

Apart from the extra work, the week's been fairly normal.

Went dancing with Mum on Thursday in Bromborough. Got very dizzy with all the spinning, but didn't fall over. Got rather hot. Need more exercise.

Went for a meal with Mum and Grandma on Friday night, in the Trevor. Mum must have been feeling under the weather, because despite several opportunities (no hot water in Grandma's teapot, the dumplings being undercooked) she didn't use that voice that makes me want to hide under the table. It always starts with, "Excuse me..." That's the point when you should ideally be in a different room, instead of stuck sitting at the table, apologetic grin fixed in place, whilst Mum tells off some poor unfortunate member of the serving staff for their transgressions.

She's absolutely right, if you're paying for your food you should be able to tell them if it's not perfect. I just feel really sorry for them when they get that rabbit-in-headlights look.

Then yesterday was Nicola's birthday, so Euan entertained his Nana Jan and Uncle Dan whilst I popped into town for some civilised drinkies. A very pleasant evening was had, finishing in Central. One portion of chips later and Steve politely shoved me in the direction of a taxi, before I ran out of babysitting credits.

Today was spent at Mum's. Would have gone for a walk in the quarry, but Euan slept for a few hours and by the time he woke up it was getting dark. I had good intentions though. Ah well.

Looked through old photos instead. Scanned a few in:

›
›
›

Hi, Al. This is your babble.

(Cue the big red book?)

Al is a lovely lovely man who works in my office. He has been known to allow me to paint his face as a , or spray his beard red. He also single-handedly convinces our team to support Talk Like A Pirate Day. Then on Towel Day (a tribute to Douglas Adams, who advocated the usefulness of such items) Al joined me in taking a towel into . He is, in short, a star.

He got a decent mention when I wrote about our team's Christmas meal. There's a delightful photo . His wife Rosemary was amused to find that I'd described our meal as "civilised", and she apparently queried whether I was thinking of the right Al.

He's also recently sorted out my computer for me - it was running so slowly I'm sure at times it was going backwards - and we sat and enjoyed a lovely takeaway too. When he came back with the means to fix the computer (more RAM) Euan welcomed him by saying, "Mummy, man, inna house!" then drove a remote controlled car into his feet. How hospitable.

He's also loaned me countless books, we've discussed anything and everything that sprang to mind, and he regularly pops up to see our group and say hello, brightening up the day.

He also takes me seriously when I say, "My computer smells funny."

So... bearing all of the above in mind... I was somewhat surprised today to learn that he rarely gets a proper mention on here.

I re-read a few babblings. And found that it was horribly, unjustly, true. Even the double glazing salesman got a sentence or two when he popped round. And he's never made me laugh until I was in danger of snorting and losing some poise, unlike Al.

There's not even a Who's Who entry for you! (Although I do always forget to add people or update that bit.)

Sorry Al, I have neglected you terribly.

All I can say in my defence is that I try not to write this as a "then I did this then I did that and on Tuesday I had an early night because I was a bit tired" account of things. This means that sometimes I'll get carried away on a rant or rave and forget to mention what I got up to that week.

But your conversation, friendship and generosity do not go unappreciated.

I hope this goes some way towards making amends.

Note to self: stop writing "2005" now. Come on, you've had nearly three weeks to get used to it. Inability to adapt killed off the dinosaurs, remember.

So... newsies. Started planning the trip to Europa Park (South Germany) to stay in a tepee with a load of other nutters in August. Response from the nutters has been very good, ooer. I assumed I'd get about two "yesses" and a "maybe", but people seem to inexplicably have some sort of trust in my organisational abilities. Space, this one, watch.

Weekend... was supposed to be the toga party.

[Insert humorous report and hilarious photos here]

Catherine didn't want me to go. I said fair enough, and phoned people to cancel - just in time, with fingers hovering over the "purchase tickets" button in some cases.

Everyone was fine about it. Made me look stupid though.

Since then, Dad's told me she wants to sit down and discuss things. That's nice. I'll spend another £30 coming to Llanwrtyd to hear about all the things I've done wrong over the past four years, then she'll get upset, and have a headache in her room for the remainder of my stay.

(If I sound uncooperative and petulant, it should be borne in mind that this woman has repeatedly got annoyed at me, but never once been capable of communicating about it. I simply can't picture her being able to sit down and talk through anything. She slams doors and throws things, then runs away, throwing spiteful comments over her retreating shoulder. She does not, in my personal experience, "do" rational.)

Yes, I want to sort it out. I just don't see what can be achieved by dragging me down there to suddenly be talkative when I've been asking Dad "What have I done?" for 4 years. Or 7 years according to him, because apparently some of this immense grudge goes back to when they lived in Chester. Oh goody, I'll be held accountable for stuff that happened when I was 17 shall I? In that case, if we're dredging up the past, I'd like an explanation for the following comment made by Catherine, addressed to my son, who was four months old at the time: "Oh Euan, it's a shame you're not as good-looking as Jacob, isn't it?"

Jacob is her nephew. The comparative attractiveness of the two kids is irrelevant. It's the fact that she would make the comment that floors me.

So. Apologies for rant. Actually no apologies, because reading this drivel is entirely optional after all...

Upshot is I had a free weekend.

Had a lie-in. I'd forgotten what they were like. Got up mid afternoon for a fry-up. Steve came round, had a cuppa, went to cinema. We saw Narnia. I spent most of it thinking, "Less talking, less cheese, more fighting please," but in retrospect it was actually quite good. Very pretty. I want a pet griffin and/or phoenix. But seriously, when there's a big battle going on, and you've been given weapons and magical healing potion, do you really spend all night hugging a dead lion? Honestly, kids these (those) days.

Back for a Chinese takeaway. Very nice evening.

Did absolutely nothing all day Sunday, until Euan came home, at which point he forced me to play with Scalextric. Then he got bored with it, but I kept playing.

And Karl's heard that he's got his promotion to something in Customs in Cardiff. He goes in less than a month. Ooh, yippee, I get to be a proper stereotype single mum.

We have Stuff to Discuss.

Money, I don't have any, I will need some.
Euan, when Karl sees him.
Clothes etc, who buys them.
McDonalds, STOP TAKING HIM THERE EVERY PISSING WEEK. Ahem.

Now is the moment to stop saying, "Yes, what your parents want fits in OK with me," and the moment to say, "This is how I want it to work."

I'm scared.

I'll have to draw upon inner reserves of calm, use the assertiveness that comes naturally in work, and make sure I'm thoroughly in touch with my Inner Selfish Bitch.

Okay, so here's the expanded version of the last Babble. I apologise for its abruptness. How rude of me. This is still censored though. Tough, you'll just have to get me drunk and ask me about it instead.

New Year: Nicola, Dad's, drinking.
Elaboration: Spent 90% of the time (and a lot of money) up the road in the Stonecroft, because Catherine was being hostile, unpleasant, and generally aggressive. Had lots of fun though. Fell over and grazed my knee, ripping my jeans. Ah well, a few more rips and I'll call it fashion. My knee's nearly better now, but it's had one of those fantastic scabs on it for a fortnight - the kind that's about as big as tuppence and an inch thick, surrounded by amazingly-coloured bruises. It's truly beautiful.

Family weekend: cousins, birthdays, Dad's, drinking.
Elaboration: Euan was an angel, but kept asking where Nicola was (last time I took him to Dad's, she came too). Went on a walk along the river to Nick's grave. Very tranquil. Back to the pub to thaw out by the fire. I had to hide in the evenings because our "best friends" from the previous week started stalking me. Managed to emerge after closing time on the Saturday though (early Sunday morning) and have a pool tournament with Uncle Tony, Jem, Dad and Ol. Dad really needs to get the heating sorted in the pool room. Fun though.

Then once home I started checking on the invitees to the approaching Saturnalia (Roman New Year) this weekend. Roman menu and togas included. It transpired that Catherine's not too keen on me turning up this weekend. To save hassle, I told Dad not to worry (she doesn't have a go at me very often, just makes his life hell), I'd cancel. There's always next year - if they manage to get the chariot races going, she can't keep me away! Togas compulsory.

Work has been... work.

John came round to tell me about Hong Kong at New Year. I was jealous but fascinated. I think he enjoyed it, although he does look grumpy in a large proportion of the photos.

Chap came round to sell me double glazing, gave me the quote, then packed his stuff away and stayed for a couple of hours having a cuppa and a chat. Very pleasant evening.

Everything you're about to read is a creative rendition of the truth (a lie), designed to smooth over the bumpier bits of my life and make it palatable to even the most sensitive reader.

So... erm.

New Year happened. With Nicola, at Dad's. With drinking.

Yeah.

Fun.

Then work happened.

Then another weekend, with Granny's 86th birthday and Auntie Josie's 83rd birthday. And lots of cousins and pool-playing and drinking until the early hours.

Yeah.

Fun.

I'm afraid all the other bits have been censored. Or I'm too lazy to write about them. You decide!