Hannah. Up.

Oh Thank God! I just got my first driving lesson over me and it wasn't actually that bad. I think the hardest part was phoning up and booking it. Hopefully this time next year I'll have my licence under my belt and I can then concentrate on that thing people call a "career". Who knows, I might even get a job as a taxi driver.

I had a lovely day yesterday with my mum and Martha. It occurred to me that what we here from a toddler's mouth is only a tiny fraction of what's going on in their head. For example. I stayed over at mum's and was sstill lying in bed when mum brought Martha up to see me. Martha said "Hannah. Up." and "Hannah. Hair." Of course, what she really meant was: Good lord Hannah look at your bedhead, it's a total mess, and what are you still doing in bed anyway, I've been up for hours.

Another example is when Bert tpld me that Martha is a porridge purist. She never lets you put anything on her porridge. As Bert scooped oranges into his bowl he asked Martha if she wanted some. She didn't say yes and she didn't say no but she looked at Bert as if to say: You ask me this every week Bert. You know I don't want stuff on my porridge.

But because she didn't say no Bert put one tiny segment of orange onto her plate which she looked at disdainfully. She then spooned out the orange, held it up to me and said "Hannah. Try." She is one cute cookie. And the orange was very nice. I don't know why Martha doesn't like them on her porridge.