n. A usually short interval of rest or relief. from Latin respectus, refuge, looking back.

Darling Wifey went to London today. We do this, Darling Wifey & I. We have “sanity” breaks when we go and do stimulating, grown-up things for a while. Unfortunately, this means that the other one of us is left with Little Madam, Little Nutter and Tiny Flirt – but without it we would go mad and start eating the shrubbery.

Darling Wifey began the day by hopping into a taxi at 5:30 am, and yawning on a train to Kings Cross (where she took the obligatory photo of “Platform 9 and three quarters.”)

Then, whilst she was spending money in Oxford Street, I had a meeting with our new Social Worker (I am getting seriously old – I thought the social worker was a babe and far too young for such a serious job!) She took sympathy on us, and agreed that at my age it must be very tiring to care for such a severely disabled little boy.

Confusion: should I have been offended and thrown her out of the house, or played the sympathy card and tried my luck? In the end I just gave her more tea.

Whilst she was here, Little Nutter’s day care centre phoned to let us know that they had withdrawn his offer of a place as they cannot support his disability. This leaves us without any day care whatsoever for him. I don’t know whether to sue their greedy, inconsiderate ******* arses off, or just get drunk. I did, however, tell them that it was unacceptable of them to wait six months after we arranged his place until six days before he was due to start before they told us.

They are, without doubt, in breach of contract. We have a case against them because they knew the extent of his disability when they offered him a place six months ago – but suing them will not help us now.

And Darling Wifey is two hours late getting home because an armed madman is on the loose in the local railway station.