Minimum iron percale

We've just been to buy sheets for the children's new beds which are being delivered tomorrow. On the way into the underground car park Harry commented that he'd been there before. Yes, with Mummy – a long time ago. Buying things for the house, and for the children's room in particular is the sort of thing that Jessica would have loved doing, and she'd have chosen well for them.

Emily picked out pink spots and pastel flowers. Her taste is as similar to her mother's as is her character. Nature not nurture, however good a job I'm doing.

They both proudly clutched their bedding as we queued to pay. The assistant even gave Emily her own little carrier bag to carry one item in. She probably thought, 'What a good husband, giving his wife Sunday morning off while he and their children go shopping.'

There's much excitement back in the house as lunch is cooking. Discussions about where the beds are right now, and whether there'll be time to put them together before bedtime tomorrow. It's actually a bunk bed, but we'll only put up one half of it as a single for Harry, and Emily can have his junior bed for a few months, while she gets used to the lack of cot bars.

Through the discussion and as we lay up for lunch, I'm aware that the kitchen table which Jessica lovingly beeswaxed is looking worn and thirsty, and still has the detritus of jam and cereal from breakfast on it. Never mind, it'll wipe up with the mince that'll be ground in with it, before I get back to writing a press release.