Why?

So many questions, so few answers.

Why am I writing lovely lesson plans for a class of six-year-olds who can only think about Santa Claus at the moment and don't give a flying toss that I'd like them to learn about spelling?

Why are my own children so nuts at bedtime lately that I need to come upstairs six or seven times to hound them back into bed?

Why are BA staff choosing such a crap time of year to strike when some of us haven't seen our Mums and Dads in six months and will cry buckets if their plane is cancelled?

Why are there no bayonet light bulbs in Hungary? And why has this bizarre phenomenon only just come to light (!!) in the Nobby household? I didn't realise we'd had so many spares that we'd never actually shopped for replacements in the last 18months, only now to find that the bayonet bulb does not exist this end of Europe.

Why am I drivelling on on my Blog when I am so tired I could fall asleep over my keyboard, and in fact I was in my PJs by seven o'clock this evening?

Gotta go. Answers on a postcard please. x