A woman I work with suspects I am planning to steal her dog. He’s a black, scruffy schnauzer, and the cutest thing in the world. He comes to the office with her and snuffles about the place, and every time I see his hind legs stretching from behind a filing cabinet, or hear him rolling about on the carpet trying to scratch his head, I am compelled to go over there and pat him and talk to him in a gruff doggy voice. And then she walks past, sees me muttering at her dog, and I have to make up some lame excuse.

I had a haircut four days ago, and already it’s grown! I trimmed my fringe this morning in the bathroom mirror, and then discovered the secret of good fringe: after washing hair, put on a knitted hat, or a hairband (hippie-style), to keep the fringe flat. Try to remember to remove it before leaving the house…

Last night after work, Steve, Agi and I made the trip to see the twins. Sabby has developed a bizarre accent, a cross between Brummie and West Country. She filled me in on the plot of Meg (‘a cat who thinks she can floooooay, but only buuuurds can floooooay’) and made me dance with her (to Hokey Cokey. She knows all the words). When Steve arrived, he sat down to read the Gruffalo to both girls: Sabby rechristened him ‘Stevealo’, before clambering onto his knees, standing on his crotch (eeeow!), hauling herself up his chest and onto his shoulders – and then farting on his head. Oh how we laughed. His expression was truly a joy to behold: a mixture of disbelief, amusement and sheer terror.

Tonight I’m heading down to the river to see the Armistice Day celebrations. Two planes (bombers? Dakotas, whatever they look like) are going to fly along the river at 6pm, starting around Tower Bridge, scattering three million rose petals, one for every serviceman and servicewoman who died during the two world wars. If you can’t make it but you’re online, try to find a London webcam and have a look.