Last night the kitchen transformed into a cyber cafe. Boy 15 sat at one end of the kitchen table, Daughter of Eve, 45 at the other, girl 12 at what used to be the 'art table' on the family PC, and girl 13 curled up on a big leather chair on her Blackberry. The arse fell out of that chair about 5 years ago so it stands in a permanent puddle of hessian and horse hair and it was once heavily patched by me, using UHU and a piece of leather that I found in the garage. My iPod did its usual trick. It lulled us all into peaceful melodic silence playing David Gray and Eva Cassidy and then suddenly threw something really heavy at us just to make sure we were still listening. Darling was next door watching Sharpe DVDs, his Christmas present from Boy 15. And he was wearing the socks I gave him. If he'd given me the iPhone I was after I might have been in there too, but as it was, there was a companionable atmosphere in the kitchen, broken only by occasional laughter or an entreaty to come and look at something on a screen. And I suppose 12 pairs of socks wouldn't really be fair exchange for an iPhone.
I wonder if this calmness comes from knowing that whatever is in the diary cannot be done? Or from David Gray. Or if it's my hormones. Or if it is something else that I don't even know about, an epiphany. I am going to pour myself a glass of wine and ponder that one on the back door step whilst I get some fresh air. I hope I see a shooting star.