Riding on the vomit comet

...If it wasn't for those pesky kids.

Among too many alpha males and females, domesticity plays second fiddle to earning the big bucks. I was delighted to step off that particular roundabout in 2000, but our lives since then have been a bit of a precarious balance of work and childcare as both Jac and I have shaped our careers to fit in with the needs of three kids. Sometimes, it doesn't take too much to throw everything awry.

My day somewhat imploded today with a call mid morning informing me that Laura-Beth my wonderful 13 year old daughter had thrown up on arriving at school and again shortly before the call. In such situations there's only one thing to do: drop everything, grab a bucket and head up to Aylesbury to collect number one daughter.

Now it's fair to say she looked both pale and slightly green when I collected her, and I was truly fearful for the seats in my car (newish to me, only a year old and with posh leather upholstery), but we made it home without any stomachery pyrotechnics - though L-B was not exactly talkative en route!

L-B has installed herself for the day in front of the TV - though my bright orange B&Q bucket has been called into action once or twice over the past few hours.

My visit to Northampton to the accountant has been postponed, and I had to pull out of a meeting at CiB's HQ which is a drag....and the odd phone call has been accompanied by some strange noises off....the sound of a teenager retching doesn't help a lot with telephone interviewing.

Hopefully it's just a bug, and one she doesn't pass on to the rest of Clan Shanahan. This weekend is a biggie in our year - birthdays for Rory and Jac, so more riders on the vomit comet are NOT what's required.