Only eleven and I'm exhausted. The youngest (in pixie pose at an Elvis Costello concert) fell asleep listening to R5 and the glorious news that Arsenal beat Juventus - glorious for her, that is. Apart from a brief showing as a Liverpool supporter while in the throes of passion - and funnily enough it was Juventus they beat that glorious night at Anfield - I know sod all about the game. The eldest and her staying-over cousin have finally gone upstairs, no doubt to create more mayhem. Foolishly I let them each have a beer to keep them off my back while I watched The Apprentice and they have been rolling around believing they are drunk. At last that tit, Samuel, has been given the boot. I couldn't tell him apart from the marketing bloke who'd have had difficulty selling bread rolls in a famine. I watched gloriously uninterrupted as the visitors had left by that time. Their little ones were asleep on their feet, which meant we completed a brisk slalom around recent life events without interruption. As a cover all - their crew is half veggie and half vaguely food intolerant - I'd bought in fresh pasta and Finest Mushroom Sauce from Tesco. The sauce was a triumph, and arrived as part of the the first delivery I've ever had from Dame Shirley family firm that got here within the agreed two hour slot. That said, at least they'll deliver with less than 24 hours notice which is more than the hugely efficient but over-subscribed, Ocado. Sweet dreams:-)