“We won’t become those old people who can’t stand kids and are always shouting at them, will we?”

I said I didn’t think so, as we do like kids, it’s just the ones that run around, scream, shout, wail and generally cause minor chaos in shops that annoy. I long to give them a clip round the ear but, of course, I won’t. That’s assault you see.

When did I become a curmudgeon? A grumpy old man who can’t tolerate your average child.

Admittedly this was in the third DIY shop we visited this morning, and I was in the midst of trying to think up how to build a new headboard (have the idea, just finalising the plans), but surely if the parents of said noisy brat are completely ignoring him — and don’t give me that ‘zoning out’ crap, you could hear the wee bugger half way across the store — then that gives me additional ‘clipping’ rights? Even a firm grip of the arm and a stern word would probably have done it, I mean the kid was obviously just bored, his parents engrossed in picking out just the right colour of paint… aubergine or pewter washed grape?

Home to sketch out the new headboard and out into the garden to continue our ongoing war with the weeds. They have taken the garage area, but today we reclaimed three flower beds and a large chunk of the back garden. Our Maginot Line is being planned — re-paving the patio — and we’ll be deploying napalm on the monoblocking later on. Napalm, Pathclear, whatever.

After all that stress and activity I’m bushed. Drained and jaded and can hardly be bothered to sit here and check my emails. Maybe it was the extra long (and hilly) jog last night, or maybe I’m still getting over the dodgy tummy I had on Thursday, but I feel ready to retire. Is it bedtime yet?