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Saturday 8 January 2000

Well, I thought I'd hardly noticed...

But when I get in a bad mood and snap at the twins after they try to cook pasta while I take a shower (at 9am for chrissake Stephen is note home yet but I thought they could chew toast and watch Teletubbies and give me a few minutes' break)..

God! What am I saying? I can hardly keep three thoughts together in my head these days.

Oh, yes, I growl at the kids and they hang their heads in shame (now, where did they get that trick from?) then disappear into their bedroom and I think well at least I can get some vacuuming done and I hoover away singing over and over my favourite bit of Glassworks that quotes from Sibelius' fifth symphony and I really drift into a sort of dream world.

So I'm not prepared for what I find when I reach Zen and Zee's den...

Except for the ceiling and the higher reaches of the walls, the twins' bedroom is entirely covered with poo.

I stand in the middle of it and scream.

The kids appear from under their doonas. They have poo all over their faces.

I slam the door on them and call Stephen at work and when he answers the phone I just sob and he can't make head nor tail of it and says, 'I'm on my way,' but before he arrives there's a siren outside and then two ambulance guys come to the door and say, 'We got a call from your husband. He thought there might have been an accident.'

I slam the door in their faces, too.

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