How could I possibly have forgotten to mention the Daniel Craig experience last weekend? For a start our babysitter was half an hour late and rude with it, which didn't put me in a good mindset to enjoy the evening. I was on the brink of sending her home as soon as she walked through the door but the kids were both asleep and it seemed an overreaction. We were still so early at the cinema that we had to queue up while the theatre was being cleaned anyway, so goodness knows how bored we would have been had we turned up 30mins earlier, as planned. The hotdog was fabulously grim and the supersized popcorn was almost entirely consumed by the end of the trailers, but that's all part of the experience. We had prime seats with unlimited legroom and I really settled in to enjoy the show, despite an uncomfortable feeling every time the soundtrack got a bit loud, that it would wake the kids!

Daniel Craig certainly didn't disappoint. All the rave reviews are right - he has the body and the attitude to carry off Bond better than any of his predecessors, and was compelling throughout. The reduction of cringeworthy humour and pointless gadgetry are both long-awaited adjustments, and there was just enough but not too much allusion to the cheesy Bond heritage. The main baddy, played by Mads Mikkelsen, was absolutely superb and believable but not over-done. In general, the tone was just about right and the word that's been bandied about endlessly about it - gritty - pretty much sums it up.

But I really had problems with the relationship between Bond and Vesper (Eva Green) [warning - spoilers ahead]. Partly I found her a bit wooden and two-dimensional but it was even harder to believe in the romance between the two. The chemistry just wasn't there for me (with the exception of the shower scene) and the reason behind this theoretical unique love-experience for Bond just wasn't explained. OK she was smart and beautiful but she was also cold and a bit boring. A million previous Bond girls have been more engaging.

So I found the whole falling-in-love scenes towards the end of the film to be entirely shallow and sickly. I almost expected the two of them to start skipping through golden cornfields, such was the implied tone; the innocence and abandon was all very overplayed and unbelievable. And it was so obvious that something was going to come back and bite him on the bum, so when it turns out to be her, it's hardly surprising. I understand the need for a bit of contrast, depth, and change-of-pace (and for the plot it was obviously essential), but for me it sort of ruined the integrity of the film and the mean and coldly efficient nature of Bond.

8 out of 10 for sheer entertainment value though, with an extra point for the pleasure of watching DC's body perform its Bondly duties.

My print head has died, the kids and I have got typical November English colds, the floorers won't return my calls, and my credit card has been abused (though not by me this time). However my kitchen design meeting went very well yesterday morning so I'm feeling relatively enthused that our problems are behind us. We're cutting it fine in terms of completing the build in our timeframe, but it's possible that they can do it in two halves and complete the base units before we move in, then come back a fortnight later and do the wall units, since it's those cabinets that will take longest to arrive. I just have to wait until next Friday for the quote. Let's hope it's not too far over budget!

Miles says "no". I asked him on Wednesday whether he'd like to get down and walk rather than be carried, and he said "no." I thought it was a fluke, but tested it several times with different questions and got a very clear negative in return. So he does understand! And here was I thinking he'd be going to school before he could string two words together! I also made it to Waitrose without a buggy for the first time ever. I had Jody arranging fruit inside the trolley (in her Shropshire-sheep-poo-encrusted wellies), Miles in the kiddy seat holding the spuds, and me equipped with backpack for purchases, zipping around before all went to pot. A great success, though the walk back, on top of earlier puddle-splashing in his first wellies, proved a bit much for Miles.

We had a good weekend last weekend. Fun at a kids' party on Saturday afternoon (fun for me anyway, because Roj was looking after both the kids!), and more fun (with too much champagne, which is becoming a bit of a theme here) at a lunch party in Wandsworth on Sunday (with a sharp reminder that suburbia can offer you a kitchen cum dining room cum playroom the size of our entire flat ... one that looks out onto a large garden too, of course).

More champagne (ahem) celebrating Pat's birthday on Monday at Sabine's house (we really are ladies who lunch), interrupted by an alleged meeting with the flooring guy at the Montagu Square flat which turned into a farce when he arrived 45 minutes late and without his floor measuring device. My reaction is, I assume, what's causing them not to return my calls, though I think all was justified under the circumstances (I missed at least half a glass of bubbly after all).

Jody and Miles are spending a lot of time cuddling these days. Jody's got into this really affectionate phase with him, the catalyst for which seems to have been his walking. She takes him by the hand and leads him around, they hide together under her bed, she cuddles him on the sofa and generally takes on the task of caring for his every need. Of course there are toddler exceptions when she wants to play with the lego alone and won't have his help, or when he rejects her slightly overbearing nature, but on the whole it's very charming to watch. I hope it long continues.

I need to take the millionth pair of jeans back again this weekend. The weak patch I noticed in Harvey Nichols has, as predicted, turned into a proper hole. In actual fact I'm very pleased it has, since the jeans have been a bit of a disappointment fabric-wise and a recent purchase on eBay has proved very successful. Now I know exactly what to look for, I have decided never to buy a full-price pair again. Not when I can buy 3 pairs for the same price on eBay anyway, and am fairly confident that I can spot the fakes.

A month till Christmas. How did that happen?

The kitchen design is a total wash-out. If they'd delivered it when they said they would I wouldn't have been so annoyed, but I'm now 3 weeks further down the road than I should be, with the unpleasant realisation that I probably have to find someone else to do the job, and fast. Some of their decisions are very weird but the main issue is the reduction in storage space from the kitchen that's in there now. I'm not in favour of cramming in cupboards, I'm really not, but it's important to have adequate storage space, especially in a family kitchen, so minimalism just won't wash. And the fact that their units seem to be nearly 650mm deep and set (on one side) 230mm away from the wall, just exacerbates the cramped feeling. I remember very strongly the feeling I had when visiting our old flat to see the new kitchen (as designed and fitted by this very company); claustrophobia was very much the name of the game. Somebody somewhere had got the scale all wrong and crammed in these enormous imposing units and extractor hoods in a space no bigger than a large cupboard. Of course I'd love acres of work surface and voluminous cupboards but in a small room I know I need to find an appropriate scale. So I'm on the search already in the hope that the panicky feeling will subside if I take action.

I was also let down by the floorers (again) who can't come in to measure until next week now. I suppose another small delay doesn't matter in the light of the bigger nightmares involving the kitchen, but it would be good to feel like I was making progress of some sort.

I took the kids to the Christmas lighting ceremony on Marylebone High Street yesterday evening. Jody loved it, with her light-stick wand and the fireworks and the music and being surrounded by all her friends. Miles got overcold and overwhelmed and started sobbing to go home, though the mince pies helped with that for a little while. Me? I suffered achy shoulders from the exuberant toddler atop, cold hands in what turned out to be a chilly (but mercifully dry) evening, and annoyance on behalf of Kristen's daughter who had been misinformed about her placing in the Christmas card competition, somewhat overshadowing her amazing achievements (only temporarily I hope). On my way home I went into the gallery to see if I could see her drawing and while standing there, I saw that she was also there with her parents, looking at the pin-board. Another day I might have approached them and introduced myself - what are the chances that we'd be in the same place at the same time amongst all those people? - but they had more important things to deal with than chatting about blogs and coincidences so I snuck away. And Miles was much better off for getting home to his chicken pasta and his warm bed.

The big news is that Roj and I are going to the cinema on Saturday night. The last time I went to the cinema was to see Troy in May 2004, which is quite sad given how frequently I liked to go in the 'olden days'. Unfortunately forking out 30 quid for a babysitter so that we can sit next to each other and not converse while watching something that we'll see anyway when it's released to DVD is just not an option. Except when it's Daniel Craig being 007 of course.

p.s. Why does Blogger no longer allow a different template for the main blog postings and the archive postings? I had high hopes I'd be able to change my site so that the most recent post appears on the homepage but it doesn't look like it's going to happen for now. Grr.

On recommendation from Kristen, I've signed up to Google Analytics. It's very weird to see the remoteness of my visitors. And quite intimidating to realise that it's not just 3 members of my closest family who regularly read. Certainly more reason for obsession.

Talking of obsession, I've also started the eBay thing again. I haven't sold anything since April but there's been a box in our bedroom accumulating possible sales for months so I bit the bullet on Sunday and did the photography for 7 different items, one of which was one of the original eBay-purchased pair of jeans which were too small for me. Why I feel it necessary to refresh the page every hour or so to see whether anyone new has joined the watch list I don't know.

Did a bit of shopping on Saturday which, in the light of the credit card statement I received yesterday, was probably a little rash. A girl needs to refresh her t-shirts once in a while though! I have renewed interest in Sisley after discovering that Benetton (where Sisley is based on Oxford Street) is finally offering refunds like the rest of the world. And the sleeves are so long (not to be confused with Benetton's own stuff which is emphatically not).

I also did another chicken roast on Saturday. I realised on the most recent visit to my parents that I had almost never made gravy and resolved to do better. I am also a current big fan of Nigella's How to Eat which advocates really simple delicious menus. Sticking unpeeled garlic cloves and shallots into the roast pan with 50 minutes to go is a case in point - 30 seconds of effort yields parcels of delicious sweet gooeyness which add an extra dimension to a roast dinner. I did discover this time though, that my oven is even more unreliable than I thought (much guesswork required to get the cooking time right). The next night I did a tray of oven chips (shame on me), and was amused to note that the chips on the right hand side were undercooked while those on the left were overcooked. Next time I shall put the bird on the right.

On Sunday we went to Milo's 4th birthday party which was very enjoyable. Delicious lunch, a good crowd and the kids transfixed in front of some of Nick Park's best. Perfect.

I'm really tired though, despite the kids waking at 8 on Saturday morning. I don't think wake-up time has been that late since before they were born, yet I'm still feeling like a zombie. I suppose it might be something to do with the chest/throat/cough thing I've been fighting (unsuccessfully) for the last week. I kick the last infection, get a week off, get back into running and lo and behold I'm back to the land of Benylin, Lemsip and fighting the urge to curl up on the sofa all day. Somebody somewhere doesn't want me getting fit this year.

The kitchen people finally came in to the new flat to measure up yesterday. Every time I go in the flat it's messier, more cluttered and tattier. I noticed this time that the bedroom carpets will need replacing and possibly even the bathroom suites. I also observed just how uneven the floor is and will be more than surprised on Thursday if the floorers tell me that a wood floor will be possible. I don't mind getting some natural fibre carpet fitted instead - it isn't so practical in terms of spills but it's more warming - but I was really hoping that we could get the uneveness of the floor sorted out. On the bright side, the kitchen people seem vaguely confident that my original plan will be possible within the space. They'll have the drawings for me on Thursday apparently, though I'll believe that when I see it.

I think the highlight of this week will be the lighting of the Marylebone High Street Christmas lights on Thursday. Last year we watched the ceremony (including fireworks) from the comfort of Pat's sitting room, but this year we have ambitions to make it downstairs to Santa's Grotto. Some kid actress from Harry Potter will be doing the ceremony which will inevitably be a bit anticlimatic for me. Can't we have some Daniel Craig-ish eye candy instead?

A couple of websites that have recently come under my radar should not go unmentioned. Firstly Hoian.co.uk, which is a great new 'no bull' guide to Hoi An, Vietnam, set up and maintained by my brother-in-law Oli and his partner Sarah who relocated there earlier this year. The other is Kristen in London whose blog has fascinated me to the extent that I've nearly read the whole thing, despite the fact that I don't know her from Adam and she only sent me the link yesterday afternoon. Granted it's primarily about being a mum (or more accurately, a domestic goddess) which will put most of you off straight away, but it is hilariously and energetically written and certainly worth the effort. It's very bizarre to read a blog from someone who frequents many of my local haunts and with whom I share certain similarities; I can't help but wonder how many times I've walked past her on the High Street.

I had been getting a bit worried about not hearing from Camilla for nearly a month. They were very committed to regular posts when they were travelling through South America and New Zealand, but once they hit Australia it all came to an abrupt halt. I understand why - Australia must have felt more like a holiday than a period of proper world travel, and sitting in an Internet cafe probably didn't seem worth it, but it's so good to finally hear that they're ok (I got so neurotic about it, I even emailed her sister to find out whether she'd heard more recent news). Can't wait to have her back home and catch up on every detail of their trip. Not sure when that might be but hopefully soonish in the new year.

Having felt a little hemmed in recently, I think since my French course finished, I have been looking into evening courses. The current favourite is a life-drawing class which doesn't start until the new year. I really don't think I can wait that long to get my escape, so more research is obviously needed. I have realised over the past month that though I love this life - and I really do - I can't do it if it's the only thing I do. And the children suffer because my patience is limited and my temper frayed. Obviously there's a non-mum Lara in there that needs some exercising. I suppose you can't eat steak every day of the week.

The past weekend was lovely. Going to the Tower of London on Saturday afternoon was very exciting and it was a beautiful crisp sunny afternoon for it. Miles was more interested in toddling around the courtyard than exploring the dungeons, but Jody chatted to a beefeater and peered at the crown jewels like a proper little tourist. The book that started it all off, Katie in London, has taken on new meaning for both her and Rosie. Dinner afterwards at Wagamama was relatively controlled in terms of the kids, but fraught with Roj and I snapping at each other which is, we suppose, an indication of how interrupted our sleep has been over the past week or more, with Miles and his nasty cough daily making it into our bed in the early hours. Last night was the first time he's slept through in a while, so we hope all will be resolved shortly.

Sunday I went out for a leisurely child-free Carluccio's lunch with Charlotte, Bams, Maj, Erick, Rosie, Simon and baby Charlotte, after which they all came back to my house - where we barely had enough chairs for everyone - for cake and tea. Great to see everyone on such good form and hear the latest news about new houses and new loves, and especially good to relax and enjoy a glass or two of valpolicella in the middle of the day when I'm used to a hurried sort of damage-limitation on the rare occasions we venture out for lunch.

I also succeeded in the spring-cleaning aim, spending most of both mornings sorting the place out. Amazing how quickly it gets into a mess, and how little time I find in the usual schedule to clean up properly. Horrid to have to devote so much of my precious free-time to cleaning though. I must seek alternatives (either a cleaner, or teflon-spraying the whole house, methinks).

Miles is loving his new Kensington Leisure Centre swim class. The Porchester Centre was obviously too cold or too unfriendly for his liking, but he's straight back to happy screeching and wide-mouth grins for the duration. Getting there and back by car is a little luxury in our otherwise walking/bussing life, and Jane is kind enough to drop us back at our door on the return, which enables me to get the sleepy babe into bed with a minimum of cold disruption.

Unfortunately the kitchen designers are already running 2 weeks behind schedule. I obviously need to practice my nagging skills (though Roj will disagree on that score!) Considering they were the ones applying pressure before I went to see them 4 weeks ago, I think it's a bit rich to find them so lax about the follow-through. Re-scheduling the measuring session at the flat though, means that I can try and coordinate the floor and kitchen fitters into one time-slot, to cause the minimum disruption for our vendor/tenant. I don't know why I'm being so considerate, given the way she's treated us over the past 18 months, but I still have memories of the annoyance I felt when interrupted twice weekly by the guy who bought our Wimpole Street flat. And the less I have to see the vendor/tenant the better!

One of the mums I've been bumping into recently is, it transpires, a university art teacher. In fact she's done an MA in printmaking. She has a studio in Brixton and fits it all in around caring for her little daughter. It was very evocative talking to her today; it reminded me of studio time myself, when it was good, and made me want to drop everything and retreat to a linseed-oil-smelling corner somewhere. It's crazy I still feel this way after ten years of doing no practical artwork whatsoever, but it's really something that tempts me, taunts me even, when I let it come to the surface. I don't know whether it's closure I'm looking for or if I have an honest urge to return to my roots (if indeed those roots exist, outside of my imagination). My graduate education bugs me substantially, if I examine it. I lacked confidence and was too easily swayed by the idea that what I was doing was self-indulgent and pointless. I needed support and direction and found neither. So, like many things in my teenage years and early twenties, I turned my back on it. There's no question that I loved the creative process but even now I don't know whether it was just the idea of being an artist that appealed to me. I've let so many years pass now, that it almost seems impossible to return to it, but I can't deny the urge to do so. Of course it's something I should be able to address in my free time but it carries with it so many demons for me, that it's almost too difficult to start. Yet if I don't, will I always be left wondering whether or not I might have made a success of it? Yikes. I'm having a battle with myself before I've even begun.

To less enigmatic subjects, we booked a snowboarding holiday in France last week. It's not until early March but it gives us something to aim for after the stress of moving house and getting building work done in the early part of the year. I'm undecided as to whether to give skiing another go, or stick with snowboarding. Apparently you can have just as much fun with skis now, and I'm tempted to return to it while Jody is learning herself, so that it will be easier to go out with her and give her pointers (or have her give pointers to me). On Roj's advice I might wait and see which the conditions favour, but I might also just book myself in for a skiing lesson and see how I get on. Decisions, decisions.

Busy weekend ahead including trips around tourist spots with Rosie & family, and a reunion lunch with university friends. I'm also aiming to include a couple of runs as I've already been re-bitten by that bug, and a much-needed session of spring cleaning.