Since Darling Wifey has to wait until May for her new car, I thought I would buy her a toy one. For Christmas she got a nice little remote-control Mini Cooper.

OK, so no-one believes for a minute that it was really for Darling Wifey – but who cares? It is immense fun, especially when you run it on the wooden floors we have in this house. In fact, it’s so fast that you can do some great stunt driving with it.

So whilst Darling Wifey was out shopping for curtains this morning, and Tiny Flirt was having a nap, I let Little Madam and Little Nutter watch a film whilst I played with the toy car. I learned how to do handbake turns, doughnuts and James Bond style high speed reverse turns.

Darling Wifey was none the wiser – until Little Madam grassed me up. She told her mum that I was being silly with the car and crashed it lots of times. She also showed her mummy where I had glued the wing mirrors back on.

Little Madam even recommended to her mummy that I shouldn’t be allowed to drive the real thing when it arrives.

I think that girls take things far too seriously.

Well, we now have several thousand pounds worth of new central heating system.

The previous owner of our home fitted the last one himself (law #1 broken) with the flue venting exhaust gases onto next door’s property (law #2) directly opposite their back door (law #3.) It was so close to the roofline (law #4) that he had to fit a steel plate to stop it setting fire to the fascia board and gutter.

Then, when the seal around the combustion chamber failed, he replaced the seal with a silicone based window sealant (we are unsure whether that one actually broke the law – but by now it’s academic, really.)

When we moved in, the boiler was venting carbon monoxide into the house in sufficient quantities to kill.

The words “irresponsible,” “reckless” and “maniac” come to mind.

Naturally, we are “pursuing the matter” with the various people employed by us to spot such things and give us warning.

Meanwhile, for the last four days the builders have been gutting the house and fitting a new boiler. The fun part was when the Mother-in-Law was housesitting. They didn’t tell her that they had removed the toilet until she had finished her third cup of tea. I told her that there was a bucket in the shed, but to no avail.

Grandma spent the time “helping us to settle in” – which involved clearing out all the cupboards and putting everything back. Darling Wifey’s reaction to her mother rooting through our belongings was predictably appreciative and understanding, and I am sure that she will feel happier about it in a few days. (Note for Our American Cousins: sarcasm may the lowest form of wit but it has been mastered and undersood by higher intelligences. That’s why we love Dubya so much over here.)

This weekend I shall mostly be cleaning brick dust from the floor.

We took Little Nutter to the National Railway Museum today.

Well, he deserved a treat. He has been saving up his Autism Credits, and after more than a week of being a little angel, we thought that an afternoon of excited hyper-stimulation might go down well.

So, with a little trepidation, we descended the steps into the main hall – and there, arrayed in front of us, were at least thirty real life railway engines. Evrything from a copy of Stephenson’s Rocket to the Japanese Bullet Train – with a few thousand models thrown in just for good measure.

He went bananas! There is a heaven reserved for children with autism, and entry is free!

The buggy was disposed of in double quick time, and with his little bucket of Thomas Engines (Little Nutter’s own version of a comfort blanket – absolutely inseperable, if your life is worth living) the exploration began. His little face was a vision of ecstasy!

Leaving every engine was an unbearable trauma – lessened only by the discovery of another engine next to it. Buffers and giant wheels were caressed and adored, fireboxes admired in open-mouthed awe, and every last model display now has his little face-print on the window. The cleaners are going to be very busy in the morning.

The highlight of the day, however, was the discovery of a balcony overlooking the real life York Station. In subzero temperatures, exposed to the wind and the driving rain, Little Nutter greeted every train with a cheery “Hello” and waved it off with a saddened “Bye-bye, train!” Only when the shivering started to blur his vision did he finally agree to come inside and warm up.

We know it was a good day because the tantrum as we left drowned out the tannoy; and the minute we got home, he fell asleep face down on a sofa, still wearing his coat and clutching his bucket of engines.

Little Nutter is hard work – and he will be hard work for the rest of his life.

The difference is that the rest of his life is likely to be a reasonable human life span.

Today his cousin was diagnosed with Lymphoid Leukemia. She is only four.

We are the lucky ones. It is reasonable for us to expect Little Nutter to be with us next Christmas.