Luna Park

It still doesn't feel like autumn. I take a hooded top out with me but it usually ends up tied around my waist. Still, it's getting harder to find mangoes in the greengrocers' shops and when you do, they are too soft for slicing and have to be scooped out instead. I feel better knowing that other housewives are not slicing perfect cubes any more.

This is Luna Park. It's on the other side of the harbour, just beside the bridge. It's a real Sydney landmark. Every few years it gets closed down because the locals at Lavender Bay complain about the noise from the rides. It falls into disrepair, then it gets done up and re-opened. It's a spooky place - the sinister-looking clown face (which is actually the entrance gate - you walk through the mouth) doesn't help. It's like a 1970's horror film.

Ella was on great form today. She's back in training for the 2012 London Olympics, where she will be competing in the whingeing pentathalon. It all started because I tried to put a sticking plaster on her toe and it was downhill for the rest of the day; pouting, grumbling, crying and saying "no" to everything. She was dying to go on the rides but you can see what happened when she did.

On days like these, Darren squeezes my hand. "It's war. You and me against her", he says. I wonder aloud about asking for an extra day of childcare at the nursery. Tomorrow is another day.