OMG. I am sitting here in an empty trailer. After observing me becoming more and more fixated and morose this morning, M stated that he was going to stay home and mind PartyPie today and that I am to Do My Own Thing. Holy mother of god. Can’t remember the last time I could sit here (relatively) guilt free. I have not responded to the lovely offer of cloth nappies from Seepi (congrats on the tiny boy you have cooking away!) or the offer of call-me-when-you-are-stuck from Rae. Thank you BOTH - I am pretty nappied up and Rae - you may live to regret that offer

My elimination diet seemed to bear fruit as I was kept awake a lot of last night by Z trying to rip a bit of her head off. She was itching at it like a crazy creature - and I had just introduced [cue sobbing] TOMATOES. Oh woe. What is my most favourite sandwich in the whole world? Cheese and tomato. Now both on the banned list. What am I good at making? Kanagaroo bolognaise. Scratch that one as well. Sigh.

Anyway, I have found this out on my own, and hopefully this might stop us having to pay the paediatrician allergist dude (that it takes two months to get and appointment with) three hundred smackeroos that we don’t have. We shall see. Bananas are my other suspect, while my other confirmed Food of Evil is PERSIMMON. Because I had a quarter of one at my dad’s place two weeks ago, having only eaten weet-bix that morning, and Z came up in blotches all over her forehead and was very distressed. It was scary. I did think it might have been the cereal as that was the day I introduced wheat (”Hello everyone, this is Wheat”), but (very warily) ate them again the next day, and the next - and… nothing. So I am keen to research persimmon, and whether the thing that is in them that caused the reaction is contained in anything else…

In the small amount of research I have done, it seems that persimmons can cause Bezoars. I thought that a Bezoar was something that roamed in deepest darkest Africa, hairily plucking monkeys from trees and making indigestion-like growling sounds. But apparently not. And even more startlingly, you can get organic ones. How very NOW!

My plans for my day of delight? I have to explain that I usually wrangle Z five days a week and then M and/or my mum sort of wrangle her for the two days that I try and get my work done. Any extra day I demand of M is a kind of double edged sword because each day he’s not at the boat is a day longer that it is not finished, and thus a day longer living in the trailer. And while the trailer serves a purpose, and is cheap, and is in amongst fifty (completely flat and not wholly attractive) acres, it is not somewhere I plan to linger purely for the pleasure it affords me.

So my day that M has given me is a guilty pleasure, but all the better for its unexpectedness. I am going CLEAN MY DISGUSTING LAPTOP KEYBOARD. While DEFROSTING THE FRIDGE (which is currently in a state that would be of interest to Mawson), put some stuff to sell on Ebay, write to my nan via a cool service that I will write about here later on, uninstall everything on my computer that I haven’t used for a year in an effort to avoid buying a hard drive, network M’s laptop and the download-everything-on-to-this-computer-and-pretend-it-is-a-media-centre computer, maybe FINALLY watch the sixth episode of Green Wing and a few other things as well. Writing this was also on my list.

I think my disquiet began last night with a trailer that looked like a bomb had hit it, coupled with the baby that awoke five times after being put in bed at 6pm - thus disabling me from having a coherent conversation with Small Brother who I bored with my weariness or speaking to Mung who commented that I had dropped off the planet. All I really wanted to do was check my email - and I got halfway through this process when Z woke for the fifth time and I gave up and went to bed too. Excuse me as I witter aimlessly on, it’s balming my frustrated little soul…