The cat is reaching maximum levels of bonkers.

This morning an outdoor umbrella had fallen over in this torrential summer weather we’re having, and when I opened the back door to let her out she saw it, did a back-flip and flung herself at full-pelt against the now closed glass door. So I quickly opened it again which made her totally lose her shit and start boinging between scary brolley and scary door until she finally leaped over the brolley into the garden and straight up a tree.

I am totally with that scary-boingy feeling.

Eldest is in the midst of heartbreak. Youngest is in the midst of ever-greater twatty behaviour. With Gwyneth back in the midst of work I am on a permanent loop of mopping up tears and stroking faces and giving advice and counting to ten and making consoling food and at one point, shouting so loudly at youngest that it actually hurt my throat which spoiled my smoking all evening.

Between bouts of intense mumming I am trying to still work and have friends and lovely plans and you know, a life, and somehow keep it all going when all I really want to do is eat chocolate muffins in the bath with ear-plugs in.

Last night I found a pocket of a quiet hour, late in the evening when nobody needed anything and I’d drunk too much wine to achieve anything and decided to fill that precious hour watching Danniella Westbrook on that new CH5 show, ‘In Therapy’.

(For my non-UK readers, DW is a low-grade English celeb famous for being in our tv soap Eastenders and also for being a massive coke-head with a messed-up nose. Think Anna Nicole Smith meets Lindsay Lohan but without any money).

Boy, does DW know about boinging. Her scary brolley is drugs. Her scary door is sobriety. And she’s flung herself between them for years. She is also now my new official number one hero off the telly. Because on the telly, in front of loads of people, she showed what a gigantic prick she can be and also how very lost, hurt and abandoned she is. I reckon when she signed-up to the show she thought, more money and attention? Yes please! But what she actually got was some ninja therapy from a woman who is now my official hero off the telly #2, who helped DW open that scary door and finally look at what’s really inside there.

I opened my scary door years ago with my own ninja therapist and official number one hero in real life. Watching that show reminded me of the days when I was scary-boingy. At the end of the programme I turned off the telly and had a massive cry about that and about everything.

Then I went and watched the hamster for a bit.

Fangs is the best hamster alive in the world today, I can confirm. He boings about like a mentalist, but hamsters are SUPPOSED to do that. He shuttles from spinny wheel to cosy bed to walking on the ceiling to falling off the ceiling, all done at top speed for maximum comical effect.

We had a cuddle, me and Fangs and I thought: boinging can be good, actually. This current fervent boinging I’m experiencing is what happens when your life is full-up with humans you love and problems you can face. It’s normal-boinging, and if you can do it with maximum comical effect, all the better.

I do so hope Danniella is normal-boinging now. And that you are too. And if you aren’t, do come and meet Fangs. He has much to teach us in the art of the normal-boing…