Devenish

  [After only one year, he's able to take Julian down the slope—something I can't do :(] The last piece is still not complete, and nearly a month has gone in. There are good reasons—as well as bad excuses—for the slowdown, which perhaps I'll be able to discuss in the future, but for now at least I can mark Sean's 11th birthday today with some recent pictures, all real, and—since it's his birthday I should say—all representative of the really wonderful person that he is. The miracle, of course, is that he's survived my impatience and criticism for this long: my incessant hectoring over 'cello practice, homework, watching bad television, fighting with Julian. When I look back at my own practice, it's amazing he's turned out as brilliantly as he has. Maybe when he reads this, he'll know just how proud I am of him, despite all the parental harassment. Happy Birthday, Sean！ 誕生日おめでとう! Gefeliciteerd!

First snow of the season: just a dusting, gone by 10:30am I'll start this post in the final hours of 2011, just after putting Justin into bed, though no doubt it will only be finished in the New Year. This is the first time that I have recorded the passing weeks of any year since I kept a diary in my teenage years: whether a coincidence or not, it has also been the most difficult year since then; physically, emotionally, intellectually—supposing, that is, there is anything left of whatever intellect I once possessed. I was listening yesterday morning to Radio 4's 'Book at Bedtime' adaptation of Nancy Mitford's Pursuit of Love . Mitford had many qualities, including wit, self-irony, compassion— considerably more appealing political views than her sisters—but she was not well-disposed towards children, or to parents who brought up their offspring themselves—rather than leaving in the charge of professional nannies and governesses.  'I love children,' she i