Farewell, rego stickers. I won’t miss you. Not even a little.

Last month, I joined all those other geeks and started using a retro (but not) mechanical keyboard.

It’s very clicky.

Thankfully it hasn’t woken up the children. So far. That I know of.

When mourning the accidental loss of one’s milkshake, one should find solitude on the back of a friendly-looking concrete turtle, and suck quietly on a lollypop.

Best intentions notwithstanding, it was all but impossible to get out for quality time with strangers in March. Most significantly, my mother-in-law’s second fight with cancer came to a sudden, tragic end on the 18th. I’ll write more about that in due course, but for now, I’m declaring March an x100.365 write-off, and unlike “old Luke”, I’m refusing to feel guilty about it.

Normal programming will resume in April. “31 strangers in 31 days” will happen later in the year.

This is not an April Fool’s joke. I’m all out of those.

Now that his arrival has been announced on Facebook (modernspeak for “now that everybody knows he’s here”), I can share the face of February 28: Mr 3’s godparents’ new son, a.k.a. Miss 1’s future husband.

Welcome to the world, you gorgeous little hairy man with the cute sad face!

[As mentioned earlier, x100.365 is going to be a bit different in March. 31 strangers in 31 days! Stay tuned.]

The joke was too much for the one in the middle.

Sometimes, you only have time for a flower photo. [The day after you were supposed to have taken it.]

Full credit to the school’s assistant property manager for cultivating these colours, though.

There’s something about this stairwell at John Hunter Hospital.

I’m not sure what, but it’s something.

If we let him, Mr 3 would watch trains on YouTube all day. Twenty-minute single-takes of stations or trips are his favourite. His concentration is intense.

It’s slightly scary.