Yesterday we went to see some friends and had lunch with them. Nothing exciting really, just a few bottles of wine (Mr PR and I have an unspoken arrangement that he always drives - I think it's 30 years of dealing with road carnage that makes him this joyous and heroic way) and, recovered from the Kefalonian rose incident I launched at the wine with enthusiasm.

The food was less than heroic, and these particular friends of ours, much as I love them, have given their ENTIRE house over to wall to wall TOYS. Every single room is a shrine in primary coloured plastic, and it's, well, a bit busy. OK it's a bloody mess and, actually it's a bit dangerous....

We met these friends (Brian and Michelle) when she and I were in adjacent beds in Watford General with broken waters and nothing much to talk about other than leaking fluid. We ranted together about how crap it all was, what with the whole expensive maternity outifts not worn yet etc, and we bonded in a way you can only bond when you've both got pillows in your pants and every 5 seconds some nosy busybody checks for signs that labour might be starting. You get my drift.Euuw.

So Nathan (her first son) and Charlie (my first son) were both born on 24th October 2001.She got a c-section - I didn't and was slightly resentful of this until I saw the car crash she was 5 hours later. Nathan weighed 4 pounds 8, Charlie a podgy 4 pounds 11. They were both 7 weeks early and we bonded even more over the whole SCBU experience. Brian helped me to control my unruly nipples (as you do) on the ward and coached me on how to get one in Charlie's gob. Considering Brian was, then, just some plumber I had exchanged nothing more than nods and smiles with, I think it's fair to say we'd all clicked.

Fast forward to 2004, they'd moved to Scotland for no apparent reason, hated it and moved back south. Just in time for the next obstetric episode in our friendship called Henry - also born on October 24th. Spooky we said- 3 boys between us with the same birthday. And then to show off Michelle produced Liam and Sophie in the space of about 8 weeks, or at least that's how it seemed to me, weary knackered and way past the whole 'how exciting you're having a baby' thing.

And so now when we get together there are 9 of us. And I drink with them. And all is well. But for some reason in the past 24 hours I have been a bit clumsy where the little people are concerned....

I was trying to get through their very stiff (and on a strange step) sliding door yesterday, to escape dishwasher loading or something, and as I did, their 14 month old daughter decided to do the same. She'd been irritating me since we'd arrived, bawled when I closed the freezer door, bawled when I went to cuddle her, and bawled when I tried to play with her. Not a likeable kid I decided - well I did - let's be clear here just because they're little doesn't mean you can't have issues with them.

So anyway she deliberately pushed between my legs, which were half in and half out of the door (so I was on one leg) and then all broke loose when she fell head first onto the conservatory floor. I couldn't really go anywhere as it would mean stamping on her - but she milked it for everything (I think asking if she had conjunctivitis and being told no her eyes always look like that was the start of hostilities)and then I heard MR PR shout

'Jules!!! What the hell have you done to the baby!! She's upside down on the floor!'

Thanks. Yes I could see she was but I kind of couldn't help without breaking an ankle. As it was I sort of twisted and helped him and Michelle pick her up. She was OK, Fine. No harm done.

So this morning it became clear that I was not fine. Oh no. I have back pain, knee pain, big toe pain, and elbow pain. And have I had any sympathy whatsoever? No..If I'd been brought down by a grape or loose paving everyone would be telling me to sue, but one wobbly baby that should be in a play pen and suddenly it's my fault!!! Honestly...!!!!

So, the elbow injury I sustained on Saturday. Most accidents happen in the kitchen they say, and this is especially true when your husband decides to pole vault onto a work surface to get his toy helicopter down and collides his big hard (knee) with your elbow. This really was the mother of all kitchen accidents.

'You're in the bloody way!'

'No. I am preparing a meal'

'Exactly!'

And tonight, as these things go in threes, while I was drying Henry on the landing I somehow stood on his testicles. He actually said to me

'Mummy you stood on my clacks'

I checked everything was OK, (like I'm an expert) he wasn't crying or anything so I'm guessing he'll hook up with one year old Sophie when he calls childline.I've explained that when I say 'stand up Henry' and he doesn't, I will continue to dry him regardless and perhaps the footwork ain't so pretty - I think he's learnt a useful lesson in life.

At least I didn't hurt my sodding foot on them.