If you only know me through my work you might not guess that I have a relentless driving urge toward frivolity. What, me, serious? No way mate. I'm an utterly reckless hedonist.
Highly politicised, yes, but honestly, if you don't get the joke I don't want to talk to you.
This poses many problems, because the rest of the world tends toward the dour, and because most people can't tolerate my hectic chatter. It is difficult to find bosom companions. Throw in the complexity of family life, and the word is "impossible." My children are eccentric; as a collective unit we present many difficulties.
If it were easy to find parents who respect my perspective, I would not have started this web site. If it had been feasible to locate parents I like with children who get along with my offspring, I would never have moved. I would still be in Olympia, or Portland, or Seattle, or Cambridge, or . . . you get the idea.
But that, alas, is an almost mythical quest. The alchemy that happens when parents, kids, and miscellaneous entourage get along is fantastic, precious, and rare. The few I have found always live somewhere else.
Last week I was lucky enough to host one of the families that falls into that category. Sara K from the Chicken House is in Berlin for the summer and she came through London with her daughter, to the extreme delight of all. We dashed hither and yon, laughing.
It is really good to have friends.