Today was a strange one. While I'm still getting used to the idea that I'm going to lose my job in six month's time (the first "permanent" post I've ever held, and the shortest stay in post at the same time) with some hope of continuing to be employed but the assurance that my actual work will no longer be there, it's hard to stay motivated. But then again, easier than expected. Thankfully, my job is varied, interesting, worthy and also extremely busy - no time to get moody. There is some attempt to keep up normality at work, and it helps that we're all in the same boat.

Then this morning, after dropping off Cubling to the childminder, I'm stopped by the police. Apparently the car's breaklight is acting up an indicator and flashes when going over humps. And humps there are many on that daily trip. Police issued ticket and checked that the car is all registered and insured, with me standing there like the puss in boots in my strange combination of cycling lycras and work clothes. Little wonder they were suspicious. Now I have to face the daunting prospect of showing them my dodgy driving license which is a) still in my maiden name and b) a European one, (I've always felt reluctant to exchange it for a UK one).

During the afternoon, driving back very tired from a day full of running activities, a young woman appears on the road amidst the queuing traffic. Zigzagging between cars, throwing herself onto the green strip, her dark red blood pouring out of her mouth. She comes to a rest beside my car and I fiddle for the electronic window opener, think better and get out. The guy in the car in front of me is already there, but further away. Another guy also out of his car, on his mobile to the police I assume. I walk up to the woman, notice stripes of dirt on her clothes, an expression of pain, fear and despair on her face. Her movements and behaviour are erratic, I cannot make sense of what I see. So much blood, where are her teeth? I walk up to her, reach out to her with my hand asking if I can help her in any way. Then my eyes are fixed on her mouth, my hand which made her stop and look at me, retracts, suddenly aware of potential danger, AIDS, and, yes, zombies. As in "28 days later". Her appearance uncannily resembles those zombies. She notices my change in body language and runs off, zigzagging downhill, between cars, vegetation, half way on road and pavement. I gesture to two policemen I see nearby, they observe with calm, but don't act. I shout of them, trying to make them aware of urgency. There is no way I can turn or get to the woman, I have to let go, just like the two guys who are still standing outside of their cars. What's left is a feeling of having failed this woman, realising I have a grain of senseless stupidity in my brain.

Back home Cubling explored the effects of bringing together electricity and water in the form of pouring her cup into the telephone charger. I did think her hair looked a bit on edge. It did no good to her bum as we had to struggle with yet another bout of severe nappy rash. By way of recording her language development (the linguist in me cannot quite let go), she now has the following words (or versions thereof): daddy (also dida), mama, all done, tata (bye bye), hiya, nona (Rona), ssss (heiss), du (dog), ca (car). She is also proficient at imitating a fish, a snake, a cow, a monkey, a dog and a duck (the latter sounds more like a galloping horse, but never mind). As to signs, she signs duck and milk, which are similar... we haven't really kept up other signs so it's not surprising she doesn't do any others. I think she still confuses Eis and heiss, but has lost both the fear of the Eisbaer (polar bear) and Benny the puppet. In fact, she now loves Benny the puppet. She also adores Bracken, our neighbour's Scottie dog and Siegfried, our friend's cat and thinks it's hilarious if Bracken licks her fingers and if Siegfried lashes out at her with his paw because she's annoying him. Blissfully unaware that lashing out cats aren't to be messed with.

Above all, Cubling raised £150 for Save the Children by doing the mini monster marathon, and she made it into the Evening Times. Not just once, no, three times! I just adore the photo where she's being pushed by running mummy and is clapping her hands... There are also photos of mummy pushing her here, but you have to be quick so see them.