Bloomin' bike. Changing bloomin' gears had become akin to juggling fuzzy felt, leading to appointment with Bicycle Repair Man. He fitted new one of these, new one of those, won't bore you with the overtechnical details. Following fortnight has seen bloomin' gears go from (a) much better to (b) acceptable to (c) golden syrup. Down the underpass, flip up from 5 to 6 and who's for a quick cuppa before the mechanism clunks into place halfway up the opposite slope. Small wonder they beheaded Raleigh.

Scenically transported kids to a middle-of-nowhere park in Ufford. Not Ufford Park, you'll understand, just a park in Ufford. Eldest and Anybeth keen to improve their sk8board skillz on the practice ramps, and down they both came, staying on the board. Easy, I said, before repeatedly demonstrating that it really wasn't. Fortunate to come away with all bones intact.

Back to find G. had been busy baking a monster batch of black & white cookies, inspired by a Seinfeld episode entitled The Dinner Party. These fellas are bloomin' gorgeous. As the man says, "Nothing mixes better than vanilla and chocolate." Next up, the chocolate babka.

22-Jan update
Back to Bicycle Repair Man who diagnoses "cable clag". Spray some lube here, apply a toothbrush there, bish and bosh. I pick it up 5pm-ish -- no charge! -- and tentatively head up a gear. Click, it whispers. And down a gear: soft murmured click again. Ah, lovely. I am a happy bunny.