Nina and the Blueberry Muffin

How wonderful to be 5 years old again, and not feel the slightest pang of guilt about scoffing a blueberry muffin for elevenses.

Having had a fright on the scales this morning, I was under no illusion that I could get away with anymore slithering into bad eating habits, and so it was just as well that there were no crumbs to tidy up from Nina's plate after she had finished.

The Glasgow family were through East for only the second time since Ewan was born and he is a very different baby to the wee new born he was back at the beginning of January. Now he weighs what feels like half a ton and has a prodigious appetite, a dimple loaded smile and a penchant for having his not inconsiderable tummy stroked by His Lordship, who I suspect may be grooming him as a recipient for the legions of toy soldiers fighting for space in his study.

They have departed leaving flowers, chocolates and a creme egg. What's not to like about Mother's Day?