Someone asked me if it was snowing on the hills yet, and I honestly can't answer. I'm not at home in the daylight to look.

I've been back at work for two months now, travelling to the city three days a week. I leave the house in the dark and get home in the dark. Somewhere in between I'm on a train, hurtling through tunnels, under the hills, on my way to work.

The first few evenings were the hardest. Getting home to a cold house, grumpy husband and tearful child. We've been getting better.

If dinner is not fast, it's just not happening at the moment. So on my days off, I manage to get some meals in the freezer. During the week there is at least one slow cooker meal. Then of course, there is the flurry of getting baby food ready too. All this saw me preparing 3 meals and week's worth of baby vegetables on Monday.

My dearest said he felt the disheswent on for ever – that's not the half of it.

Work itself is going well. I'm getting into the swing of things. It's getting to be less of “I'm not sure, haven't done this for so long” and more of the “oh, I remember” and “hey I can do this”.

My days at home are getting the benefit of work too. I'm not no blasé about them. There's only 4 each week, unlike the infinite string that was laid ahead previously. Little e is pleased to see me I'm sure happy to be there.

As the weeks go by, the evenings are getting lighter and I may even get a peek at the hills on my way home.