The tooth fairy arrives tonight

After what seems like an eternity, but is only in fact a week, Olivia lost her first tooth this morning. It's been wobbly for quite a while, but last weekend we noticed that it was hanging by a thread... and it continued to hang on all week despite much twisting, wobbling and complaining that she wanted my dad to get it out rather than me.

Anyway, in the usual morning chaos she proudly wandered into the the kitchen with the tooth in her hand looking very pleased with herself. She's cool is our little girl.

When our cats die, can we have a dog?

Apologies for the long post. Must, must find time to post less, more often.

Olivia seems to have been the focus of our weekend. She will always be our special little girl, but she can be enormously trying as she begins to grow up. I often wonder how she got to be so big. I can so clearly remember her as a baby that it sometimes seems like the beautiful five-year-old who lives with us can't be the same person.

Anyway, we don't seem to have stopped since about 5.30pm on Friday when we headed out to her school fete. It seemed like there was a three-line whip with the reception teachers who were all face painting (£1). This is Olivia with her teacher.

Anyway, from the fete we had go to straight to Luke's end of term party, the less said about that the better really, needless to say, it was some genius organisation to have it one the same day as the school fete.

The following day we headed to the church fete which was rather lovely. A proper old skool event with white elephant, coconut shy, Punch & Judy and so on. They had stocks and sponges too in which Caryn was subjected to a sustained, and I thought, quite vicious, attack from the little people.

It was held in the grounds of The Vicarage. Nice gaff. It's funny living somewhere like this - you can slowly but surely feel the church closing in on you. One day, we'll just find ourselves sat in church on Sunday and not really know why or how. That said, they were obviously responsible for the fantastic weather.

Today? Today I failed to fit a cat flap, but did get the grass cut and managed 10 minutes in the hammock. Didn't bother buying a paper.

Bin flyin'

So, anyway. It's either I've got too little to do, or too much to do. You can tell when it's too much by the lack of activity on here. There's certainly no shortage of activity in real life...

Just to catch up, last Wednesday night we were invited to a do at a nearby airfield (this one). The plan was to take a short flight in a Cessna if the weather held. Didn't look good for most of the day, but as we'd booked the babysitter we thought what the heck and headed out there anyway.

At about 8pm we took to the air - me in the co-pilot's chair, the wife and my mum in the back. What a hoot. We skirted Norwich on our right and headed for our house... like you do.

I don't know, but there's something about flying over your own house (we stuck a big white arrow on the roof so we could find it) that seems like a really good thing to do - like it's one of the items that should be on your life checklist. Flown over my own house. Check. It was a strange feeling as we circled round knowing that our babies were fast asleep 1,000 feet below.

Apparently, and of course I asked, for a private pilot's license you need a minimum of 45 hours flying time with lessons at around £80 an hour. Once you've passed you need a plane most of which are co-owned with a secondhand Cessna going for around £40k... then there's the fuel and the maintenance... and well, you need to quite rich to fly.

Maybe one day.