I had a really weird dream Saturday night. I don’t normally remember dreams but this one stuck in my mind when I woke up. I’d dreamt that I was by the sea, walking down the beach when I meet Himself. We were both teenagers again and I spent ages trying to convince him that we already knew each other and that we had been married in a previous life. It was surreal and I woke up feeling out of sorts. You know that feeling you get when you’re not sure whether it really happened. I think it must have been one too many bacardi’s at the party we went to on Saturday night.

We had a really nice time actually, the kids stopped the night so they didn’t have to drive home. It was a friend’s 40th Birthday Party and she had booked a live band. It was a little on the loud side, must be a sign of my age, but as the only table left when we arrived was one by the speakers that’s not altogether surprising. Good group though and once you’d had a few drinks and started dancing it didn’t seem to matter.

By that stage we’d already had a glitter fight (they’d decorated the table tops with glitter and sparkly '40s') and built a tower out of the empty party poppers. We know how to have a good time when we go out!

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Sunday morning was spent writing. I've now got four stories on the go - it would be really good if I could just finish one of them. Actually I have finished something. I've finished the introduced to the new series - I've just not finished the first story that goes with it.

Himself goes back to work today and things have eased up a bit at home so with a bit of luck I might get a bit more time to write. I can’t believe how tired I’ve been lately – it all seems to have caught up with me. All of last week I was coming in from work, eating my tea and then falling asleep for an hour on the sofa. Usually if I did that I’d not sleep at night, instead of which I’ve been sleeping like a log and still found it extremely difficult to get up the following morning.

Sunday's drive produced the following photos of St Mary & All Saints Church in Kidderminster. They've got some great gargoyles. I also noticed that the blossom has come out this weekend - soon be spring.

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Youngest stated last night that he needed a new pair of jeans because the others were too short in the leg. Which others? The others that I’d brought just before Christmas?

We had a run in over those jeans, he wouldn’t have the one pair because they were too long in the leg (please note that most of his other trousers drag along the floor) and heaven forbid that I turn then up temporary. When I suggested it you’d have thought I’d told him to walk around naked – I’m sure I’d have got pretty much the same reaction.

Anyway he’d settled for another pair which I didn't want to buy because I thought they didn't have enough growing room. And what had that got to do with anything? They looked good at that particular moment in time. I was right as it happens, although I really wouldn't have minded if he'd proved me wrong on this occasion, they now show his ankles.

He’s 17 at the end of March; I keep trying to convince myself that he can’t get that much taller. He keeps assuring me that he can - he will be taller than his brother, who’s currently 6ft 3 and is someone else that still appears to be still growing. I can’t help feeling that he’ll manage it as well, he can be bloody determined when he wants to be.