My Victory and Babies

Last night, I cooked a meal. It was really good, with free range organic chicken, champagne, ice-cream and luscious midnight chocolate, plus - don't fall over yet - I made a crumble! An apple crumble made from scratch! By me! Nobody died, there wasn't even a fire!

So OK, an apple crumble is not exactly a great trial among puddings, but I was expecting a fraught night. The meal was for some friends who came to visit and introduce me to their very little baby girl. I was expecting tears, mucus and poo*

I have known the mum through various vicissitudes, but I have never known her as happy at the very core, as she is now. She has reason to be, cos this is a special little girl; she looks like the infant Elizabeth I (when I wanted to tease the doting mother, I claimed she looked like Henry VIII) and the girl is very bright, intelligent, expressive. I was not surprised to see her interest in books rather than toys, I was not surprised to see her grinning and winking at Aunty Boot's threat to put her in the Baby Sack (actually the immense Xmas stocking bought by her parents to house the bejillions of presents coming her way)and I was not at all surprised at her mother hovering over her with a tigerish devotion. The birth was a very traumatic one and nearly cost my friend her life. But out of it came a very lovely little girl, and two proud happy parents. I'm no fan of families, but the feeling was nice.

It was an evening of great charm, and I really enjoyed it; don't get me wrong, I remain resolutely auntsy not mumsy, but even Boot the anti-parent had a great time. We all did. I like to think the crumble helped.

*from the baby, from the baby, pull yourselves together!