A 24 hour thing...

Today started with a polite tap on my door at 4am. What every parent loves to hear: "Mammy my tummy hurts and I've been sick all over my bed."

Joy.

Obviously not very joyful for TallVomitGirl either. The washing machine took the strain and she spent the rest of the night with me (mainly with me watching her to see if she was going to be sick on my bed too!)

With TG out of action on the sofa clutching a bowl all day, it fell to muggins here to clean her room ready for visitors tomorrow. This room tidy has been trailed for many weeks and we have tried every carrot and one or two threatened sticks to get it done.

There was time too for some baking, with accompanying paranoid hand washing every 2 minutes. Then some finger crossing that Mr B made his Heathrow connection (he did) and off to do battle with the tram-inspired deviations to get to the airport to collect him. Happily, some good guesses (and following an airport taxi) got me there.

And now it's practically the weekend, and TG says she feels much better.