A day in the life of us

The clocks joined hands and took a spectacular, hour-long leap in fast motion so that we could enjoy a few drops more of sunlight in our evenings. To make the most of it, this morning I fed, changed, kissed and cuddled the baby and then bundled him up in the pram for a quick, invigorating walk through Cherry Tree Wood. I took note of a missed photo opportunity at the slow opening snack bar and came home to shower and discuss these matters with Bruce, who has more technical experience than anyone I know.

Having worked up an appetite, the three of us headed out for lunch, Hartley taking his inside the privacy of my blouse and a feeding bib Robin posted to us last month (a simple but ingenious solution that other mothers always marvel over) while we ate our burgers and chips in plain sight of everyone.

Then it was an exploration of a new path that took us unexpectedly to Alexandra Park, where a blond girl in a pink dress demonstrated just what Bruce was talking about earlier, in a copse of birches, a lighting umbrella winched into a tripod at her side. The path did not take us to the farmers' market as we thought it might, though in the end we made our way back to the road, following it down and around until we found a trail of sign crumbs that lead us to our intended destination.

At the market, we bought apples and pears, carrots, small potatoes still caked with earth, sirloin for our dinner, Californian sourdough bread, eggs, fresh garlic sausages, brownies, a handmade Afghan throw and ceramic platter and a strong, sweet latte to enjoy on the way home. We slung the Afghan over Hartley, stashed the groceries in the basket beneath the pram and headed out to catch a bus that would take us back up the hill. On our way there, we passed actor John Sim, who Bruce had to point out because I still know very little about famous British tv stars, though I'm learning.

After supplementing our exotic finds with some basics from Sainsbury, we headed home again, where Hartley continued to nap, thus allowing Bruce to read the paper in peace, and me to put a few more finishing touches on the 'nursery,' with photographs and colourful, good-quality wrapping paper.

One short cat nap later and Hartley roused us in the customary fashion for his dinner, after which we assembled a secondhand play structure of rattles, lights, music and dangling bits for him to lie beneath and swat at (accidentally for now and with more purpose when he's older). He kicked and cooed and finally played himself out, so I scooped him up and took him off to bed, where I am still, typing this all out while Bruce plays Resident Evil in the next room so that we can have a record of one very fine day.

And the light still dribbles off the purpling tongue of the sky - a feat of Spring for which we have those impatient clocks to thank.