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Oh well. That kind of stuff doesn’t matter right now. I suppose I’ll sort it out when Daisy sleeps through the night.

Had to turn up Radio Two progressively louder and louder to stop Daisy crying. By the time we reached Nana’s care home, the car windows were shaking.

Such a relief to finally give Daisy a cuddle and get inside.

There was a big sign on the visitor’s notice board:

BEWARE!JOAN JENKINS SOMETIMESTAPES knives to her WALKING frameand chaseS ANY VISITOR WEARING RED.

Nana was so pleased to see us. She hugged me for ages and talked to Daisy in her funny pigeon voice. ‘Ooooeee! Coo coo coo!’

She was especially happy because her toenails hadn’t been cut in ages. I’m the only one who can do it without breaking the clippers.

After I’d done Nana’s bath, I washed her hair and helped dye it ‘Vibrant Cherry’. Then I showed her how to play Angry Birds on her phone.

Nana asked about the wedding, and I told her we were marrying at St Mary’s church in Great Oakley.

Nana said, ‘What does Nick’s mum think about that?’

I told her that Helen wants us to marry in London. And that she comes around three times a week with glossy bridal magazines.

Nana said, ‘That big-nosed cow. Hasn’t she had enough of her own weddings?’

Helen has been married twice. Her first wedding was featured in Vogue, the second in Harper’s Bazaar.

When Nana asked about house hunting, I had to admit that we’re STILL living in Helen’s apartment.

Nana said, ‘Oh Jules, love. You haven’t got your own place yet? That Nick’s a useless little bugger isn’t he?’

She’s right – Nick does need to change his priorities. But a house is my responsibility too. We’re not living in the 1950s.

It was nice seeing Nana. She called Daisy and I her ‘blue-eyed girls’ and took photos of us with her new selfie stick.

Nana also warned me I was getting too skinny and told me not to ‘catch an eating disorder.’

I never trust her views on weight, though. She’s lost most of her teeth because of all the Walnut Whips she eats.

Friday January 2nd

I love being a mum, but sometimes I miss going to work.

As a charity executive manager, I was respected. Valued.

My team tackled third-world poverty and childhood diseases. Also, I wore nice suits from Karen Millen and drank vanilla lattes.

Got a picture message from Helen today.

It showed a rail-thin, pouty model bride wearing a huge lion’s mane on her head.

Helen had written, ‘Sostylish, don’t you think? Viv West at her best.’

I texted back a picture of Pamela Anderson in her wedding bikini and wrote, ‘I prefer minimalism.’

Saturday January 3rd

Nick and I spent the morning house hunting on Rightmove.

I’m happy Nick is finally getting involved, but he can’t seem to grasp the ‘family home’ concept.