See this? See any elephants? Even very distant, ant-sized elephants that a person might convince herself wouldn't be any trouble supposing they should ever start stampeding toward her?

That's right. There aren't any. That rogue bull elephant called Pantomime has thundered over me and I am now gazing at an elephant-free landscape. It's over. And here is the bottom line. We raised about 4000 dollars and I aged about 10 years. Along the way we had one final tangle with Italian bureaucracy (no A-board posters allowed outside the theatre), and a sicklist that made us look more like an episode of ER than a production of Dick Whittington (1 case of chickenpox and 1 of laryngitis, 2 high fevers, 1 sprained knee and a terrifying mid-term bleed from a low-lying placenta). The headaches, the heartaches, the back-aches, the flops, we had 'em all. Also, laughter, tears and strong language. But most importantly, Junior survived and, thanks to a real trouper called Rosie Forbes Butler, the show went on.

Mr F and I just spent two hours stowing all the stuff in the attic so for the first time in weeks I'm sitting in a pantomime-free zone. Tomorrow I'll get back to my day job, then we'll take the late flight to Dublin to meet young Conor. Three weeks old and still not walking. What is it with kids today?