A hill o' (black and white) beans

I have a large tin of dried beans that I use for blind baking. Some are black, some are white. The girls have decided to sort them into two piles. I am slightly worried by this. Even though I understand that there is a therapeutic quality to boring repetitive tasks that require no thinking, this is worryingly close to being an aptitude test for the Greek public service, and I am concerned that when they are older this might be the kind of job that they look for. (A job in the Greek public service, I mean. I realise that jobs sorting beans into piles are few and far between.)



But then they arrange the beans into a pattern. Phew! They do have a creative side after all. What a relief! They will have fabulous and fulfilling careers in the Arts and never do anything boring or repetitive at all. Hurrah!

Let's go fly a kite

Down to Faliro for Clean Monday, where strong winds coming in off the sea made for one of our best kite-flying expeditions ever!

Murder

Emily: Dad, I've noticed something. A lot of the television news programmes have horrible stories about crimes and murders and things like that.

Me: You're right, darling, especially on the trashier channels. But what they show isn't always news. Much of the time it's just stories about dreadful things that have happened.

Emily: But they're true, aren't they? I mean they're not made up.

Me: Yes I'm afraid they're true, darling.

Emily: Because there was this story about a man who killed his wife. It was terrible. I mean how could he do such a thing?

Me: I don't know, my love. [Sotto voce] Maybe she became addicted to facebook and youtube and one day he just snapped.

Emily: Dad! I'm going to tell Mum what you said!

Me: Snitch!

Emily: I'm going to tell her that, too!

[Discussion descends into general name-calling and threats...]

Amanuensis

Emily has hurt her wrist and cannot write. I have a sore throat and cannot speak.

We have the bright idea of working together on her homework: she tells me the answers and I write them down.

I would like to report that this was a productive collaboration characterised by mutual respect, in which Emily did not once lose her temper and the phrase 'ungrateful toad' never passed my lips.

(Oh, who am I kidding...)