Chez Moi

As I was trying to juggle two jobs together today morn, i.e reading my new Bill Bryson whilst sipping a piping hot mug of coffee, Pratik gave me an almighty kick (he was trying for a comfortable position on the coach from which he could watch Over The Hedge) and most of said liquid fell onto the book. As I turned to give him the coldest stare of the century, he looked at me which sheepish eyes and slight alarm. Then, quick to establish a purer-than-driven-snow quality, he started: “Well it wasn’t actually my fault, Mummy! If it was my finger that touched the coffee and tipped it out, I would have said, yes it is my fault but it was my toe. My toe, you see, so actually it is not my fault!”

If you figure that out, drop me a line!