Charlotte's been unwell for the past few days. Meanwhile, her brother Jamie's been a wee sh*t for approaching four years.
However, that did not stop me from devoting chunks of my weekend to the task of redecorating his bedroom. This process is now on hold until next weekend when - subject to my commitment to watching every second of the Six Nations Championship - I intend to finish the painting bits.
At least he seems prepared to do his bit to help.
To be fair, I kind of owed him one as yesterday morning he took me to see The Muppets.
If you're a thirty or fortysomething, trust me, you've really got to go.
I was instantly transported back to Sunday nights in the late 70s although, given I was in a public place, I was relieved not still to be wearing my Paddington pyjamas.
Such was the film's impact on me that, arriving home, I felt compelled to listen to Sounds of The 70s on Radio 2. And, at night, I insisted on watching Quadrophenia - which I'd never actually seen before.
An episode of The Dukes of Hazzard would have made my day complete.
I'm due to turn 40 next month. How the f*** did that happen?!
