Then, yesterday, I spent an hour in the Post Office queue with 3 two-year-olds. It was brutal. The only good thing that’s happened at the Post Office recently was one of you coming up to me and telling me how much you love these emails.
Jerry climbed out of the pram and sat next to me nicely for 5 minutes before deciding it would be much more fun to run around WHSmiths throwing his beloved Ducky. This went down so well, he decided to repeat the game with his now very dirty blanket. Meanwhile Frankie and Rafa screamed consistently (they wanted to run around and throw things too). Every now and then, they crescendoed into a tantrum which they punctuated by kicking their wellies at our fellow queue-members. Jesus. It was awful. That hour felt like an epoch. I was physically shaking when it was over.
