Today's Muse: 157

Work work work. Work work worky work. Work.

Lessee if we can pull anything else out of the brain-pan...

The screaming from outside my window tells me that it's a new year. Golly gee.

It's been a good year though, methinks.

Work work work.


Alexine and Tristan are visiting. Tristan is such a sombre little creature. So quiet for a two year-old. I don't think he has met Elizabeth properly yet, it will be interesting. Yes. Bit like fire and water, methinks.

Alexine talks nineteen to a dozen about everything and anything, in English and French, sometimes both languages at the same time. Five children, all together, until Chinese New Year. Brian, Tara, Alexine, Tristan, and Elizabeth.

They're so small.

It... kills me. Funnily enough. I keep looking at them and thinking they're going to get old. I watch them politicking - with Tara and Alexine not sure whether they like each other or not and Brian, all of eight years, try to distance himself because he says he's too old.

Too old.

I'm too old and I'm not allowed in the ballpen unless I'm dragging Elizabeth out. I'm too old and I packed up the dollhouse to give to the girls. I'm too old and I buy picture books, beautiful sorts, at Bras Basah. Yakult bottles don't last the afternoon any more. Soft toys decay quietly on the top shelf.

I'm going to read this when I hit thirty and think, Well fuck you, Vic. Wait til you hit thirty.

And then I'll read it when I'm forty, and...


Work work work. Back to it, then.