Aaaargh! Got home from the 9-5, took boys to climbing centre, back home and supervised Small-Fry's piano practice, fetched big boys from climbing centre, had tea.
Dashed out to buy a new battery charger and rechargable batteries before boys battered each other to bits over the hot question of Who Used The Last Battery on the X-box controller ... (!) Not to mention Coca-Cola which was apparently a necessity. ('That's four for me and one each for them', says genius-rated Cello-Kid. Eh? I thought he was good at maths ... or is ethics his Achilles Heel?)
Watched one TV programme. Chased Small-Fry to bath etc. It is nearly 23.30 pm and I haven't read a single WORD of the book I'm meant to be reading.
How on earth do my family think I'm going to do what's needed for my viva and sleep, eat, keep the whole domestic edifice going and go out to earn a living?