Friday - Saturday...Sunday...

The weekend isn't over yet and already it feels like we've three weekends. It began on Friday, when we met Dawn Purvis, to thank her for saving the Greenway, beside other things. Then Oisin's circus school performance began in ernest. Oh my god! The circus school's end of the year performance. Months and months of prep, running him back and home. So, here's the weekend in pictures...

Oisin and Dawn Purvis, the East Belfast MLA. She's from a Unionist/Loyalist Party that i would consider voting for. Probably the only one. Her predecessor, David Ervine died of a massive heart attack. He was one of those men who lived several lives in one. Incredible charisma and a great brain. And a tremendous heart. They were from East Belfast, just down the road from us, the heart of Titanic loyalism. Probably the most bonfires per square mile every 11th July in Northern Ireland. The first place to start riots, if there are going to be any...

But we were there, in the local shops and it reminded me so much of the Creggan, the way people were. Really kind and really nice and really curious about us, obvious outsiders. A wee old lady from the shop kept on saying how lovely Oisin was, how he would be getting lots of girls' hearts broken. And then she said, he looks just like Bruce Lee. And so he does, as you can see.

Here's Oisin going up the workers! and The Greenway!

And on Saturday, the weather was amazing. Dry and bright, with not a breeze. Ghin and i wondered around St George's Market and then walked back to Circus School for the performance. We stopped by the Lagan, watching the rowing clubs skim the mirror like surface of the river and the gulls lazily swoop down onto the water, their snowy white wings like newly fallen snow. Pigeons turned wheeling circles overhead in their cheap and cheerful flocks and Ghin said, Are they starlings mom? remembering the time we were on the bridge to watch the starlings with Mary.

Tours advertising the Titanic quarter by boat were everywhere, despite being run by only one tour operator. On a moored barge, a life-sized stuffed Santa raised his arm in a frozen greeting, looking slightly sinister and rather creepy. Behind us 10 year olds were practising urban running, slamming themselves against the side of the high steep walls of the walk and clambering up when they weren't able to jump them. One of them stood to the side, nursing his knee in silence. The pain on his face was obvious, but controlled. Real men don't cry.

It is funny the reaction children have to the fish. It is a large salmon. I ca only assume that there were salmon once in the Lagan. The salmon has pride of place in Irish myth. The salmon of knowledge, of course, who ate all those hazelnuts from the tree of wisdom, the World Tree. the scales of this salmon are tiles of old newspaper clippings, advertisements, flyers and images of Belfast. They are fired in the style of 19th Dutch Delft porcelain, and they make the salmon more interesting up close than from afar.

Public art in Belfast is like traditional Irish food. Easily understood and commonly available. And i think that's fine. I like that kind of public art that you get at once. Large fish on a river with Belfast pictures fired into it. Woman holding large hula hoop standing on a bronze cast of the world - sculpture called Spirit of Harmony. I understand that. It's not clever clever and i don't want it to be clever clever.

I want Ghin to be able to look at it and go, look at the fish mummy! Wow!

Here we are waiting for the circus performance to begin. Ghin has taken to hiding under furniture in a random sort of way. Especially when he doesn't want us to change his diaper. Who knew that the world was so full of places a three year old could hide under.

There's Peter looking very serious...you'd think he was about to watch Krapp's Last Tape.

There's Oisin! Diabloing. He didn't drop his diablos despite being so worried that he would.

He's dressed as a street urchin. A look at totally suits him.

I think he looks like the Communist Youth Party, c. 1960.

Here he is having his mind stolen.

Now he is a zombie. Fair play to those circus types who managed to get over 80 children to behave themselves for almost an hour, over three performances. It was incredible!

Here he is on top of the pyramid.

After show shots. With bag of popcorn. Ghin was on his way to tantrum land. After this he insisted on playing with my camera, which i didn't allow him to and then he went doollaly.

That's me and my boy!

The both of them!

And now we work our way to Christmas. I think there'll be less running around as of this week. Whew! But there is the winter solstice party, and then there'll be me turning 39. Well, you know what, bring it on i say. I would love to be a child again, but not a teen. Then the twenties are weird. I felt older than i really was. In my early thirties i was lost, but the last two to three years, although have been a personal hell, have been critical to me being where i am now, which is ready to take on the 40s. On some days it is shite. On some day i think, i well past it, but look at my life and those gorgeous boys. There is everything, absolutely everything to play for.

I have no idea what the last year of 39 has in store. Somethings about being where i am now...

1. Reading things up close and in half light is getting tricky. I am in danger of doing that old person thing where i pull it away from me, instead of bring it closer.

2. Defo creaks and aches where there ain't no creaks and aches before - like the sockets of my arms and the hips.

3. Getting tired and sleeping early.

4. Can't get drunk  properly anymore, so no more binge drinking. No more red wine.

5. Can't seem to stay awake long enough to go to a party post putting boys to sleep.

6. Prefer sitting by the fireplace to being in a pub and shouting at friends.

7. Picking battles. Sometimes not even battling - especially when it comes to things which are so fecking obvious, especially at work.

8. Being comfortable and happy with life choices.

9. Not caring what other people think.

10. Can't lose the weight that easily any more. I think Pheasant Hill Farm sausages might have something to do with that though!

Uh oh can hear Ghin crying now. Must go. It's almost 7.40 now and today i'll make more gingerbread houses.