There is a pretty good reason, after all, why pets aren't allowed in most stores.

I've also noticed that the human character's appearance has been changing from one strip to the next. It seems to have to do with what else I've been drawing lately. I really should take one picture of him, post it above my computer, and have that as a reference when I draw these strips.

Forget Thomas Hardy. Forget Dylan Thomas. Let’s talk about the Thomas who has made more impact than any of his namesakes.

Let’s talk about Thomas the Tank Engine.

I want to make one thing clear first. Nothing would make me happier than taking a flame thrower to Thomas or blowing him up with a stick of dynamite.

You see, as the mother of three sons, over the last 18 years I’ve read every Thomas book and watched every spin-off video. I’ve even sat through that awful film starring Alec Baldwin which was like having pins stuck through my head. I’ve also trudged through countless engine sheds and had my bones shaken till I’m on the edge of a breakdown whilst enduring “fun” steam rides. In addition, I hold Thomas personally responsible for the time when pregnant with No 3 the miniature steam engine I was sitting on derailed. If that imagery isn’t enough to make you queasy, let me tell you I’ve also risked my life by driving with one hand whilst pointing out the window and yelling “Look, there’s a steam engine whoo-whoo!” Yes, when you’re desperate to avoid the kids stabbing each other in the car even a steam engine becomes interesting. In fact I’ve been known to become almost orgasmic at the site of a puff of smoke or high pitch whistle when faced with the alternative of another rear seat punch up.

by Shanta Everington

It's not so much the 'pram in the hall', as the sticky fingers on my laptop and the voice in my ear screaming, 'Mummy!'

After a much needed break with my family over Christmas, I scheduled in some writing time for January. I was about to start work on my second article for The View From Here and wham! my son was too sick to go to nursery.

I do nearly all my writing when he is with someone else or asleep. But there are times when you find yourself in a fix. Children are unpredictable and don't care much for deadlines and diary appointments. But, hey, nobody said it would be easy! I swapped notes with some other writing mothers to share challenges, benefits and survival tips.

Rachel Pattison runs a freelance writing business

Late summer and the garden was a mess. Morley could see the state of it from his armchair in the window. Nothing wrong with his eyesight. He could make out the roses, branches splaying, petals scattered on a lawn in need of a short-back-and-sides. From the occasional venture to the vegetable patch he knew the courgettes were marrow-sized and there were enough unpicked blackberries to make crumbles for an army. He used to be on top of things. A keen gardener. Mulching. Hoeing. Now it had all gone to seed -- literally. Rheumatoid arthritis and a war wound had finally got the better of him. White flags came to mind.