Molly's next bit of growing up - the homework desk!

After Thought Bubble, Molly and I headed to Leeds Ikea - we were on a desk hunt. And this is the result:

New desk, new chair, new filing cabinet (sort of). She's very, very pleased with it. And we spent all of Sunday reorganising her room to fit everything in. Lot of work, but in the end, seeing her face was worth it all. Now she's got somewhere that isn't the kitchen table to do her homework on. Doubt that it will make the homework easier, but it may mean I don't have to tiptoe around her in the kitchen after school anymore.

This last weekend - Thought Bubble

(Molly sketch by Adam Cadwell)

I'm writing about this for the FPI blog anyway, and I'll cover more of the comic side of things over there. But this last Saturday Molly and I headed to Leeds for Thought Bubble, the annual comic convention.

We went two years ago and she had a great time. But this year it was even better. Because Molly realised how much of a name she is in the world of UK comics - she was so thrilled that so many people there knew who she was, so many people talked to her, knew about the things she'd said about comics on the FPI blog, appreciated what she'd written.

It was wonderful seeing her having such a great time, collecting sketches and meeting people. She had a really lovely time. Special mention has to go to Sarah McIntyre:

Molly had been wanting to meet her for many years and she wasn't disappointed - photos, sketches and drawings and best of all - Sarah was determined to introduce Molly to everyone who stopped by whilst she was there. Sarah's one of the nicest people in comics, and an absolute natural with children.

Various sketches were gotten by Molly including that brilliant little mini Molly that opened this post by Adam Cadwell.

(Sarah McIntyre - of course)

(Gary Northfield)

(Sean Azzopardi)

(Francesca Cassavetti)

(Emma Vieceli)

(Marc Ellerby)

Santa?

It's beginning to look a lot like Christmas here at Bruton mansions. Things are taking shape, the first Christmas songs are slowly appearing, a few presents have been bought, decorations are being put together and present lists are being assembled - although Molly's is looking rather like a wish list than a present list (laptop, TV, electric guitar are top of the list).

But, we've finally got confirmation of something we'd been thinking for a long time. It's the whole Santa thing. We've been thinking for a long time that this must be the last Christmas she really believes. But every year she's surprised us by being determined to be a believer. Or maybe, like we thought last year, she's just been stringing us along, caught in that difficult period where she's suspicious, has friends who are telling her about the big Santa cover-up, and she's just playing it safe - just in case.

Over the last couple of weeks she's made a few passing references to Santa and presents and always with a knowing tone. likewise Louise and I have found that we've been a little bit lax about strictly referring to Santa when talking about presents - so maybe we all knew that this year, we could all see the elephant in the room.

And then tonight we were talking about presents and maybe, if she wants a laptop, we'd better pop along to see what sort of laptop, what size and screen she wants - that sort of thing. So we could let Santa know. Even as I said it, I knew it sounded really silly.

Which is why her reply of - "don't be stupid dad, I know there's no Santa" - wasn't really a surprise. It's not going to stop us playing along, that's most of the fun of Christmas anyway, but there's a bit of me that's sad about losing another bit of the child I had.

In her place we suddenly have Molly the teenager. Or so it seems. She may only be 11, but my word, she's doing the whole teen thing so well. It's infuriating, annoying, inflammatory beyond belief. But at the back of my mind, there's still that incredibly wonderful feeling of her turning into a great little grown-up, who, when we're not falling out, I can have a great time with. These teenage years might not be great, and god knows they're only going to get worse when she actually turns into a teenager, but she's still my molly, my gorgeous, wonderful Molly and even when I'm arguing with her, I'm still daddy, and she's still my little girl.

But this year, she'll be in on the Santa conspiracy.

Oh Joy It's a Royal Wedding

Halfway through the day - Louise emails me, obviously hugely excited with the Royal Wedding news - she's such an impossible Royalist you wouldn't believe.

I, like so many voices I've heard today, really could not give a toss. The only thing that really annoys is that I know exactly who's going to end up paying for the damn thing. Me. And unless they shut the schools for it and I get a day off then I really don't even need to think about it.

But what absolutely amazed me about the whole thing was this BBC News article:

"Prime Minister David Cameron said the engagement marked "a great day for our country" and wished the couple a long and happy life together.He said he had received the news in a call from Buckingham Palace during a cabinet meeting, and it was greeted with "a great cheer" and "banging of the table" from fellow ministers.

He had slept overnight on the Mall ahead of Diana and Charles' wedding, he added."

So, there's two very rant worthy images:

One of the cabinet doing their best "hah, hah, hah, we're going to smash the oiks, what ho jeeves, bring me my morning prostitute and quail's egg". Tossers.

And the other one - wanker cameron was camped out on the Mall when he was 15.

FIFTEEN.

Useless, upper class, knob.

I know I'd have used the royal wedding as an EXCUSE to stay out all night when I was 15, but there's no way I'd have actually gone to the bloody thing.

Now, off to watch the news. Oh wait, it's full of Royal correspondents trying to outdo themselves over who can be more sycophantic.