Another strike for bad behaviour yesterday, and thumbs up today. And that's just for me!

Pest n.1 fared quite well at summer camp too.

I exchanged mobile phone numbers with the coach for emergencies, as I am off to London tomorrow. He gave me his private number; I noticed a little drool at the corner of my beautiful Suitcase Child Stepdaughter's mouth as she was gazing at the man's biceps, so I volunteered to disclose his phone number to her, a proposal which was gratefully accepted.

I am fairly sure she will call him. Men no longer chase women, it appears, or so she says. At sixteen, and with smouldering good looks, she can afford to chase and not fear rejection. She is as wholesome and solid as a marble statue. Trepidation is less of a feature in adolescent dreams than a fluttering companion in adults' ones.

Still. I'd rather be scared than cool.