Home again home again...

So we're back in PA. Good to be back to get on with all our exciting projects (homemade cleaning products! compst bin!), but this global warming thing seems to be in full effect - this time last year the river was frozen into huge blue icy chunks like something which normally comes with a David Attenborough voiceover; today we got back to a free-flowing torrent and reports of 70 degrees two days ago. Easier to live with but wrong. Still, an incentive to redouble our efforts.

Dot and I took a stroll down to the river this afternoon. It was wonderful until her jetlag kicked in just as we reached the water's edge. After five minutes abject caterwauling I acquiesced and got my boob out on a rock in the middle of the deserted campground. Dot was fussing; I attributed this to the icy wind which had got up out of nowhere and wrangled her onto the boob. So imagine how bad I felt when she came up for air minutes later to display a veritable beard of super-absorbent material which had escaped from a tear in my breast pad and got onto her chin and even into her mouth (I was back on the Lansinoh pads having been unable to replace the eco-friendly ones even in Waitrose).

I spent the rest of the afternoon brooding over how severely I might have poisoned my little girl but feeling backed into a corner: the Lansinoh pads had to go, but even if I could find somewhere that sold the Natracare ones they'd proved no match for my leaky boobs (read embarassing leaks) and anyway, both types were generating way too much landfill for my conscience. So what to do?

Then I saw a reference to woolen breast pads in an email from the Bowery Babes (my yoga group) and in desperation asked for the reference. The reply came back: danishwool.com. I checked and hurrah! My prayers had been answered. Reusable pads in eco-friendly, naturally absorbent and hygienic wool that keep your boobs warm into the bargain! Here they are:

OK so they are the least sexy thing ever and will probably itch but I ordered two pairs of the Ekstra variety ("For women with extra strong "let-down" reflexes or heavy leakage") anyway.

So, just call me toasty tits. And pity my poor, long-suffering husband. He doesn't know about these yet.

By the way, I am dying to tell you about this cheese tasting thing but I've been up since 5; a baby with jetlag is not a pretty thing. Hopefully cheese tomorrow.