Skip navigation.



  • It’s not even green

    So there was something good in the mail today, when we came back from lunch at Counter Culture, the locals’ haunt.

    From Mesquite, Texas came my Green Card. I’m now a permanent US resident for the next two years, if that makes any sense.

    (It’s actually a conditional green card, the condition being that Buendia still says she’ll support me in two years’ time. 90 days before it expires, we send away to get it turned into an unconditional green card.)

    The first thing to note about it is that it’s not green.

  • What did you do today?

    Here’s what I did today: walked down the driveway, along the road about 20 yards and collected the mail from the box.

    That’s it.

    I also changed Fionnuala a few times, and burped her a few times, made lunch and watched some bad daytime TV, but that’s really stretching it.

    And with Buendia here too that’s pretty much the sum total of all our efforts, since about 7am this morning.

  • That was the week that was

    Making sense of seven days unlike any other

    After the excitement and uniqueness of Fionnuala’s arrival - exactly a month ago today - last week was perhaps the first in which it was possible to see some pattern emerging: a sense of how weeks will be going forwards.

    And how strange and new the pattern is. The biggest shift was the huge contrast between the life inside the house, and world outside.

    Our focus inside the house is small scale, short-term and intensely personal. The rhythm is set by Finn as we change her, feed her, do the laundry, cobble together some food, grab some sleep. There are pauses of quiet and rest, as now, with Finn asleep, bundled up like a burrito - I grab ten minutes with the paper, and sit down to blog.

  • Tour baby

    So the Tour de France has started, and myself and Fionnuala have fallen into a nice early morning routine. Live coverage on TV here starts at 6.30am, and so yesterday and this morning saw myself and Finn on the couch watching Lance go for seven.

    It’s not so crucial if I don’t catch the first hour or so of the stages, and with us downstairs Marci gets a chance to snooze on her own, after a night interrupted by feedings (I do the odd change, and hold Finn more or less upright for a while after each feeding to help everything settle down, but it’s not quite as arduous as being the milk provider).

    So far Finn’s not shown much interest, scarcely even stirring from sleep when Lance blew past Jan Ullrich in the time trial yesterday, or when O’Grady and McEwan literally butted heads at 60km/h yards from the finish in today’s sprint.

    We’ll see if she wakes up for the team time trial tomorrow. And if we both manage to sleep through it, OLN repeats each stage seemingly half a dozen times throughout the day, so we can catch it later. Dunno if they make baby-sized Lance bands though.