Bitterne for food shopping tonight. Sainsburys, which has a weird layout with two entrances, and not enough staff. I bought cat food with 'real Norwegian Salmon'. Like our cat is going to know the difference between a fish caught in Scandinavian waters and one from Blighty. She is a cat with Special Needs, or as R rather unpolitically correct describes her a 'REM'. Short for remedial. Anyway, whatever you call her, she is it. Slow to learn, that pooing on the playroom floor just because it is raining and her litter tray is inches outside her cat flap is not acceptable beahviour. We shut the playroom door because she does it when we are out, but the other day, on Granny Mary's watch, the little feline cutie pie pooed in the playroom while H was sitting in it. So, she has lost another friend she needed to cultivate. She scratches the girls and poos in our house and frankly has nothing going for her apart from her grey fur, and she doesn't moult much or seem to cause too much bother to people with allergies.

I had to go out because I was on a very short fuse and had already blown, reminding the girls VERY LOUDLY that 35 000 children die of hunger every day while they faff about with their dinner and refuse to eat it. H started crying and being distraught, while A looked at me and nodded. But don't you remember your mum telling you 'Children in Africa would be grateful'? Well, here I am, putting the guilt of human poverty and starvation on my children's plates, along with sweet potato ( wrong kind of potato) and the 'wrong kind of sausages'.