When the boys are screaming around the house or the garden, and I mean actually screaming around the house. That means just walking around screaming at the top of their voices, it doesn’t mean running around having fun. Did I make that clear? Imagine a house with two small boys in it and all they are doing is screaming. Thats it, no purpose to it. Just noise, very loud annoying noise.

It’s their favourite thing.

So now you can picture this blissful scene, the boys are screaming and I am counting my followers to see if there has been any change, what I really crave are “The Quiet Moments”. I miss them from those halcyon days before children, when I could lie in slightly darkened room and stare at the ceiling for hours doing F’ all. Nowadays we only can dream of those fabulous Quiet Moments, each of us has our own memory of them. Lexi for example said on holiday the other day how she couldn’t believe she hadn’t had a chance to lie in the sun and read a book (Her quiet moment) I came back from South Africa somewhat surprised I hadn’t spent slightly longer exploring vineyards and sampling their wines (my quiet moment.)

I can not explain what this is. I found myself riding along a beach with President Putin.