That apology, in full

Whoops, I did it this time.

I must admit I thought it odd to see Mrs Batty driving away from the school in her 5-series BMW as I approached the gates on the hoof.

I met up with the Slug and we proceeded in formation to the hall in which the Parent Teacher meetings were being conducted. The offspring accompanied us that far, pointed out her teacher and then scarpered to the IT room.

Mrs Batty might be bonkers but she isn't my daughter's teacher as it happens. Oh dear. Well at least I don't have to tip toe around the bonkers Doris any longer. My daughter's teacher is, as it happens a rather pleasant woman and I'm not just saying that because she said positive things about my darling. She also appeared to be listening to what we had to say and has offered a more extensive meeting after half-term by which time she'll have the results of the tests she's been conducting on the little dears this week.

So grovelling and unreserved apology. Hats off, too.

If I seem good humoured it is because the Slug took itself off to bed early and left me in peace actually to eat something. Also this is another sauce free night, which is three on the trot which is excellent. The same can't be said for him judging by the way he collapsed against the cooker while making his way through the kitchen and up to bed: that was, to my trained eye, a half bottle of Chivas Regal grade lurch.

Except he drinks vodka when he isn't drinking cheap cider, or cheap wine or cheap super brew.

So in honour of a well known label, though not one he frequently squanders money on I shall start to grade his lurches. It could take me some time to accurately calibrate this, bear with me: I'll start by calling this a Full Smirnoff. We shall see where this takes me. But in all likelihood I'll get bored quite quickly and drop the whole idea.

Until then : bottoms up!