In an attempt to attract mothers to be, I put up a couple of luxury wooden penthouses in secluded parts of the garden. These were summarily ignored for cosy nooks between the roof and the trim. I may have misjudged the type of bird; upscale was not their thing, utilitarian with sticks and a bed of pine straw is more their milieux. I've counted five nests so far; two between roof beams, one in the wood pile, and one in each of the Abelias. I am so looking forward to watchi

I want to look as good as M. M is my mother. She's M because she dislikes the moniker mum; mummy ceased being appropriate when I was 4, and Mother is just too formal, notwithstanding it sounds a little ominous. Secretly, I think she enjoys the MI6 associations the letter suggests. At 88, M has a full head of silvery white hair. This she puts down to her daily consumption of millet flakes. Bird food! I think she discovered this when I was in my thirties and still cared in

As my dear friend Fleur pointed out, "it's only you that's in a rush to be 60!" She has a point. Why hurtle towards this milestone when you can saunter in the general direction, smelling the sweet pollen on the air, savoring the residual elasticity in your knees that will surely evaporate at the turn of the decade. The "9's" are such cliffhangers, that's why. No one wants to be a "9", least of all 9 year olds. There is something awkward about it; it's not a fully formed nu