By the end of last week I was in shreds. I don't know whether it was because I was tired or because the kids have entered a new and testing phase, but I was desperate - literally desperate - for Roj to get back from Paris on Saturday where he'd been swanning it at the rugby, so that I could have a break. And have a break I did, Lara-style, by cycling down to Fulham for my gait-testing at Profeet where I came out with a comfortable pair of Asics and a promise to never again buy a pair of Nikes, and then by driving up to Bike and Run in north London to buy some tribars. Great shop, shame about the acute road-rage incident on the way up there when the guy behind me was so angry about me not letting him in (to be fair he was just trying to sneak around the inside of me at a junction which obviously cut off further ahead) that he got out of his car at a traffic light and stormed around to my window, tapping vehemently and asking me in no uncertain terms what the f**k I thought I was playing at. I looked straight ahead and the lights soon turned to green, but I was shaking for at least 20 minutes afterwards, and still remain fearful that the guy - who I think I saw writing down my registration number - will come out to slash my tires. Or worse.

On the bright side, the tribars were excellent. I feel more comfortable in that position than in the normal upright cycling position, although I'll have to get a more bum-friendly saddle if I'm to maintain it for longer than 40km. I had a wee bit of neck-ache at the end of the ride too, which is unsurprising. But am happy that it enables me to stay hydrated through the bike leg with the water bottle and straw that sits between the bars.

The race was a good one. Dorney Lake is very clear and flavourless to swim in, and the swim route was an easy rectangle which meant you could follow the buoy line down to each marker. It felt long though, in comparison to the Birmingham tri, and my time was slower than then too, probably because Birmingham's distances were inaccurate. I need to shave several minutes off my swim leg.

The cycle was pretty good, notwithstanding a hefty crosswind for all 8 exposed laps of the lake. The repetition was relieved by the ability to target different competitors. I think the wave was probably 300 strong, so there were always plenty around to keep you company. A 20mph average eludes me though which clearly has to be my next target. I seem to be averaging between 18 and 19mph in general, which is close enough to be taunting.

The run was a write-off as usual. I tend to push hard on the bike, since it's my favourite discipline of the 3, and don't leave myself much energy for a 10k run at the end of it. Plus 3 laps on a route that was visible all the way round was rather demoralising, although it did serve up the odd competitor to target (less than were targetting me though, it would seem).

I got to the finish line in 2:46:26, wondering how people (like the top 4 placed women) can complete an olympic distance triathlon in less than 2:30. I suppose I can certainly butcher 5 minutes or so off the swim and probably 2 or 3 each off the bike and run but where the last 5 is supposed to come from I just don't know. Well ... 9th out of 42 on the bike is OK, and an overall female position of 18th will suffice. The winning woman beat me by 11 minutes on the swim, 3.5 on the bike and 9 on the run. So it's clear where my improvements have to be made (not that I'll ever be in a top position, but the comparison is telling).

Back to the grind this week. My invaluable cleaner Olga has banished [most of] the decorators' gunge from the preceeding week which takes a tangible weight off my shoulders. I'm having a light week of training to wind down from a couple of hefty ones, able to use my 'spare time' to catch up with friends for the first time in a while.

And very much looking forward to Milly's wedding at the weekend. Still plenty to buy (4-year-old shoes and sashes and shoes for myself too if I get the chance), but I just know that the week will fly by and I'll have to be thankful if I get there, dressed, kids in tow and nothing forgotten. That's just the way it is these days.

I had an intense moment in Waitrose yesterday when an outspoken elderly citizen deemed it within her rights to abuse me at the top of her voice near the deli counter:

"Can't you control your children? Look at them. They're upsetting everyone." I looked at her, astonished, inspected the nearly-empty section (nobody was paying the slightest bit of attention to my kids who were, albeit boisterous, not screaming or pulling food off shelves or getting under trolley wheels or in the way of anyone), and looked away again with a shrug.

"Can't you just stop them screaming?"

Goodness. Stopping them screaming comes at a high price. I had promised treats and goodies by way of bribery to get them through the half-hour tedium of food shopping on Marylebone High Street, and it was the end of a long school day for both of them. They may have been a bit noisy and a bit hyper, but on the whole I thought they were doing quite well. We weren't in a public library after all. So I turned to face the woman and spewed the usual lines of:

"Why don't you keep your nose out of my business? The only person who's upsetting anyone here is you. What gives you the right to pass judgment on my ..." But she was having none of it. The second I stepped forward to answer her, she raised her voice to an even higher pitch and screamed:

"Don't you speak to me. I don't want to talk to you. You turn around and do your job and keep those children quiet. That's your job. You go and do it. Don't you speak to me. Can't you see they're upsetting everyone?" To which, shaking with indignation, I pointed an emphatic finger and shouted:

"Oh you don't want to speak to me huh? Yet you're quite happy to stand there and lecture me in the middle of Waitrose in this outspoken self-righteous manner?" And walked away.

And later on, when my resentment died down, I felt not only like an awful mother but also guilty at not being able to rise above the abuse. She was just mean and oblivious and I should have walked away. But she hit me where it hurts with her insinuations that my kids are obnoxious and uncontrollable. Neither assumption is accurate but perhaps that's a fear I constantly suppress during those tired afternoon chores in public. Everyone wants their kids to be perfect little angels, but in reality they're full of energy and creativity and adventure. I wouldn't want to stop that but it still hurts to be abused in that way. Silly cow.

We're living in fine white dust this week. We're looking into converting the loft space but this puts paid to our plans to convert the bathrooms this summer, since the loft conversion might involve some re-jigging of existing space. But loathe to continue with the grubby rooms as they are, we've had the decorator in (who needed to resove legacy issues in the building anyway), to whitewash them, and we'll replace the disgusting carpets with some cheap lino at the earliest opportunity. It should tide us over for 6 months or 12 until we get the loft plans sorted. But I'd forgotten about decorator's residue; dust on every surface in every room; paint smears on the kitchen units; broken jugs in the kitchen; and a general mess of workman's rubbish. Thank goodness he'll be gone at the end of today.

I've had a good training week this week but I'm feeling tired because of it, and wonder if I'll get my energy back before Sunday's Dorney Classic. I cycled to Cambridge on Saturday for lunch with old friends. It took an hour to get to the M25, ridiculously, but was then a lovely ride in undulating traffic-free countryside, appropriate for a good blast on a sunny day. I ran for an hour of steady state on Sunday and had a customary rest-day on Monday. Then an hour of swimming on Tuesday morning followed by my hour's manic spin class in the evening; a 2:10h run on Wednesday up to Kenwood House and round Hampstead Heath (and rather a long-cut on the way home) followed by my swimming lesson (which is more mental than physical admittedly) in the evening. I was aiming for a quick ride with my inherited tribars on Thursday morning, but couldn't get them to fit and abandoned the session in favour of making it to my physio appointment on time.

As predicted, the physio rubbished my GP's idea that I have Osgood Schlatter disease, explaining that it is specifically to do with tendons pulled by powerful quad muscles displacing young and growing bones. Instead he assessed my stance for running and suggested that while the knee issue may have been caused by my windsurfing accident, it is certainly being aggravated by long runs in running shoes that are not supportive enough for my overpronation. He advised me to undergo a running gait analysis (not by Nike this time), which I've booked into at Profeet on Saturday, where they also make custom insoles to accommodate the uniqueness of your feet.

Next step for my knee is acupuncture: My physio (young and sporty) says that the England rugby club knee surgeons that he works with tend to inject steroids into knees to combat injuries, but it's been suggested (or proven?) that it's the action of needle in body that stimulates recovery, not the substance injected. Well ... I'm up for anything.

Roj's dad has hit a plateau during recovery. He's done what he can with the use of powerful intravenous antibiotics, but his goretex stent is still infected and he is scheduled for replacement surgery in Nice next week. Once that hurdle is over, we can all hope for a straighforward route to complete recovery and the chance to have a laugh about the stress that has been caused by such a dramatic unanticipated attack. Mike must be bored to tears of hospital rooms and drips and all the associated rubbish but at least there is a small amount of light at the end of the tunnel.

Meanwhile I'm trying to survive the daily routine - which is not yet routine - without Roj who has been mostly out of the country this last 2 weeks and will be for the next 2 as well. Getting both kids (and myself) out of bed and ready to leave for the day by 7:50am is quite a task when undertaken alone and I have invariably been cutting it fine towards the end of each week. Children don't understand the concept of moving quicker than normal; they operate at a pace that is comfortable to themselves, schedule be damned. I have, nevertheless, managed to make it out of the door early enough on the last 2 Fridays to enjoy 45 minutes with Sam and Charlie over coffee at Caffe Nero, a habit to be frequently repeated, I hope.

Disaster strikes. My coffee machine has broken. And I wasted a whole hour this morning looking in vain for the instruction leaflet. All my kitchen appliance instruction leaflets are in one place. Apart, of course, from this one.

Not that I hold out much hope. It's making some fairly chronic labouring sounds that seem to indicate terminal coffee machine disease. I've only had it for 15 months or so, dammit.

While walking back from nursery today, Miles, exhauted and full of snot, started whimpering gently in his buggy. When I bent down to comfort him and ask him what was wrong, he cried "Want Jody, want Jody." Heart-melting moment.

Cuteness reduced a bit later at naptime though, when I was coercing him to sleep and all he could say is "Want Daddy, want Daddy."

Continuation of the theme later when I was trying to get a debrief from Jody after school, but she was just whingeing. Eventually I asked her to stop whining and get into the car, and when she started crying, I asked her whether she thought that I looked forward to picking her up from school every afternoon so that I could hear her whingeing at me? To which her response was "But Mummy, you don't smile very much." I'm beginning to see a pattern here. Mental note to smile more. It might have helped if I'd had a decent coffee in the morning.

Roj is back tomorrow for a handful of days before jetting back to the same spot. Hardly seems worth the effort to fly back to England, but since the company pays for his posh business class flights, he's not going to offer to do a 4-day layover.

Right. Better swot up on swim technique before my lesson tonight.

Was driving up Park Lane this afternoon with the kids in the car and looking up at the uncharacteristic blue sky we had for a September afternoon. Quite a pure blue and crisp day. Beautiful. I had to check the date on my watch though, because days like these always remind me of the day I set off to work 6 years ago in NYC, and I was surprised to find it was the anniversary.

Thank goodness for good friends with kids like ours. Jody and Miles had a ball at Louis's house on Sunday morning and Roj and I were able to go off and selfishly do the London Duathlon without a care in the world. It was hot and humid and the whole race was a bit of a struggle for me. Tiredness I think. Average results, as expected; quarter of the way down the female field. Plenty to work on there. Legs aching now. Want to fast-forward a year 'til I'm actually fit. I wonder if that ever happens, or whether you're always left feeling like you need to be stronger and faster. In a field of really fit and strong people, where I'm only ever likely to make the middle third, I wonder if I'll really be satisfied. Sigh.

My swimming lessons start this week. I haven't done swim lessons since I was a little kid. I don't really know what to expect. I really need to work on my swim times though and would like to see an improvement before my next tri at the end of September, but I'm thinking that an improvement in 2 lessons is optimistic. Particularly as the course focuses on complete deconstruction first. Time will tell.

Roj is in the US this week which makes life a wee bit more difficult than usual, especially in the mornings. Miles starts at nursery tomorrow too, so that's 2 little youngsters to get ready by 7:55am. Lovely. I'm excited at the prospect of having 3 mornings to myself, and I was delighted to pack Jody off to school and see just how much she enjoys it, but I'm feeling a little sad at the thought of not having them around. I guess you just get used to having 2 little bundles getting under your feet and you miss them when they're gone. I'll be a little lost I think, for a while.

Not that there's not plenty to do. I'm aiming to sell all our windsurfing kit on eBay before the end of September, so that it no longer has to clutter up Nana's house. And there's curtains to make, and bathrooms to choose and the eternal job of nametape-sewing. During which I need to dose up on Lemsip for the first cold of the term which hit Jody on Friday, Miles on Sunday and me today. I can't complain - they've been healthy the whole summer apart from a chronic but mild stomach bug from Miles which has meant white bread for a while, but sod's law means that my cold will peak on the morning of the Dorney Classic in two Sunday's time. Ah well.

Such a good wedding. Congratulations to Adam and Sam, and thanks for inviting us to such a warm, welcoming and good fun event. Gorgeous venue, amazing food, and packed with excellent people I haven't seen for way too long. Seriously. Way too long. Even Dave R and Jen G made it over the pond. Just before we left (abysmally but necessarily early) the caterers brought out a huge bowl of freshly cooked sausages and rolls and we indulged our midnight peckishness with that, a vast array of gorgeous cheeses, yummy wedding cake and abundant free booze. And there we were earlier trailing through the remotest parts of provincial Norfolk going "Where on earth are we going?" Well thank goodness we made the effort frankly; it was more than worth it.

The kids had plenty of fun with Becky (nursery nurse of nearby toddler-friend Milly) who pumped them up on ice lollies and sugar-saturated 'fruit' drinks and then took them to a jungle gym to burn it off. We took them to a dinosaur-themed adventure park the next day too, to compensate for our adult-centric weekend.

I even managed to get in an hour-long bike ride to fetch the car on Sunday morning. Originally I'd intended a longer route, but it took me 2 hours to do the short one (including taking a wrong turn, the chat about mole-ants, and the drive back) so I shelved it. I'm not going mad for single training sessions right now; I want to start building through the winter. It seems early, but my steady state run last week demonstrated to me that I'm really lacking that stamina base and I want to make sure it's around for the longer distance stuff I'm hoping to do next year.

Got the splits through for the Birmingham Tri which demonstrated that the girl who came in first must have been averaging over 30 mph on the bike leg. Hmm. There are plenty of other suspicious results too, so we can safely write off any of the times for being completely unreliable.

Roj is currently in Monaco checking up on his Dad whose condition took an unpredicted turn resulting in the necessity of an operation to replace a length of goretex tubing he has instead of biological vein. The original op. was serious and lengthy so we're all hoping that this time round things will be more straightforward. Other than that, he seems to be making a good recovery and staying positive.

Roj is also away in the States for the majority of the next couple of weeks, and then possibly Poland afterwards. Which leaves me with the 24/7 child routine. Thank goodness nursery starts for Miles next week.

Took him to swimming this morning and found he had tangibly lost confidence in the underwater stuff. We haven't been since before my windsurfing accident in May so I can hardly blame him, but in a class of 3 I'm just not used to having the clingy insecure one. He'll be fine in a couple of sessions I hope ... I've signed him up for the whole year!

Serpentine members are berating the regular theft of their bikes. Mental note not to take my Cannondale to spin class then. There's only so much time that can pass before people realise it's locked up outside for the same hour each week. Especially if I'm really going to get a power meter (Roj has 'allowed' us each a treat purchase after his recent bonus payment), which could half-again to double the value of the bike! Silly expensive computer technology.

The Serpentine warnings did include a link to this video of mad bike messengers racing in London though. Well worth the pointless waste of time.