"Listen, Lestie, what's that noise?"
Creak, creak, moan, moan. She opens her mouth in surprise and gasps.
"What is it Mummy?"
"It's the trees in the wind."
"No. That's not the trees!"
"Yes, it is. Listen, they're blowing in the wind. Creaking."
"No, Mummy, it's not the trees," she looks at me as though I'm a nut and skips off in her own world. "Can we have a party for Barbie when we get home?" This is my fault for singing Aqua's Barbie Girl (Come on, Barbie, let's go party). I just can't help it but, in my mind's eye, instead of seeing the doll in My Girl's hand I picture the fabulous Katie Price, who is so professional and bloody minded that it's almost a relief to call her just that - fabulous - in a #thereisaidit kind of way.
When we get home, we lay a PINK picnic blanket on the living room floor, scatter cushions and settle down to eat sandwiches, vegetable sticks, fruit and cake. The three of us, Celeste, me and