On Saturday I set off bug bombs around the house. Five of them, one in each major room. Hopefully it would spell armageddon for the cockroaches.

Once set, I went for a wander for a couple of hours. Along the way I noted Zagarelli’s, the crap restaurant I once dined at, which then changed its name, has now shut down completely. No loss to the local cuisine.

Returning after the requisite two hours to open up the house and let fresh oxygen in, I found two dead cockroaches (one on the floor, one upside down in a glass of water — euch). Since then another two have been found. Hopefully that’s put paid to them, at least for a little while.

On a completely separate note, Jeremy turns 9 today. We celebrated with family on Sunday.

I won’t claim it seems like yesterday, but certainly it’s not too long ago that he was just a small pink crying baby. Time flies, does it not.

One of my presents to him was a copy of the latest Guinness Book of Records. At his age, I had a 1970s edition — it might have been 1974. In my teens I upgraded to a 1987 edition. As many people do, I gradually lost interest as I grew older, and eventually got rid of it in 2003, but having a read of Jeremy’s shiny new copy, it is surprisingly interesting. I wouldn’t read it from cover to cover, but there’s enough to just dip into it — and both the kids seem fascinated by it, just as I was back in the day.

PS. 9am. The Technical Bookshop, latterly of the super-inconvenient Latrobe Street location, has closed its doors for the last time. Vale Tech Books, 1941-2007. (Tip-off: Paul D.)