Dwarf kings and cleaning schedules

So it's the 3rd of January and I have already broken most of my resolutions. Ate loads of chocolate today and got cross with the kids yesterday. Have done no running at all and have got home late from work every day.  But.... I haven't thrown any slugs over the fence yet. So there is still hope.

Being back at work after a break is always hard. All those things that you had just managed to stop worrying about are waiting in a big pile to greet you: cleaning not done, unanswered emails, unreturned phone calls, families in crisis, staff in crisis..... and suddenly the holidays feel like a long time ago.  To try and pretend that they are not over, Mia and I and some friends went to see The Hobbit  last night.  It was amazing. An escape into  a world  of magic and make-believe and adventure, making damp Chichester seem dull and coldly real  in comparison.  So today, as I sat discussing rotas with the cleaners, I found my mind drifting, imagining handsome Thorin, the young dwarf king, riding his pony through the Children's Centre, sword in hand, ready to smite the Orcs that were bound to be gathering in the sandpit. Don't think it would make much difference to the cleaning schedule!

I've never been very good at schedules or lists but I'm quite good at clearing things away.  Too good at throwing things away, Ninesh would say, as he retrieving another important document from the recycling bin. One of the things I like best about Christmas is taking down the decorations, packing away the tree and piling up the cards.  It's always hard to know what to do with cards, birthday or Christmas.  They are so personal, you always feel guilty throwing them away.  So I usually put them in a big pile for about a month and then throw them away.  Month-on guilt is never so bad!

One of my friends was telling me that her mum once sent her birthday card. She opened it:
" Happy Birthday to my lovely daughter," it read, except her mum had forgotten to write anything in it or sign it.
" Did you get my card?" she asked when she phoned later.
"Yes," said my friend, " Thank you.  Except you forgot to sign it."
'Oh," said her mum, " how did you know it was from me then!"