Just finishing the last of the Victoria sponge cake I made as a birthday cake for my dad on Saturday. The strawberries were picked and frozen back in early august and they make a very tasty filling.

I was woken early by the baby blackbirds outside of my bedroom window. Their singing is so sweet it is hard to go back to sleep and so after dozing for a bit I got up and got to it. A supermarket shop before 7.15 and the school bags packed and uniforms sorted before gently rousing my little sleepers with a cup of tea. I'd made a bolognese sauce by 9 and started on a couple of soups while the littlest played happily with his cars before coaxing him into his clothes and out to toddlers.

Now, however I am siting in a post lunch, post cream cake, slump. The shopping is half unpacked around me, the washing in various states of completion, in baskets on the kitchen floor. The littlest will have awoken, refreshed, from his nap any moment now and the hullabaloo of the day will begin again.

I fear I may have peaked too soon.