Hot Milk and Blogging - a Good Mix

My Mother was extremely intelligent - she taught piano, did a BSc during the war and read the Complete Works of Jung for pleasure.  She was fluent in at least three languages.  My Father was an engineer, a good sailor and read history books about the Isle of Wight.  His French was abominable.  I have no idea what they saw in each other, but it worked.  Mum wrote poetry in her spare time, which Dad thought was effete; he took over running the house when he retired and Mum went back to teaching music.  Had they been parents nowadays, Mum would have worked and Dad would have been a house husband - he loved cooking, for example, and his meals were delicious.  It was interesting - the dynamic in the house was very much gender neutral - both parents did both male and female tasks.  Consequently, we grew up believing that we could do anything we put our hands to - Dinah's now an engineer, and I joined the RAF.  We are very different, but in many ways similar - people who meet us always say we look alike, but we're not related, being adopted.  It's the whole nature/nurture thing - how much of ourselves is genetic, and how much upbringing?  I once wrote an essay about that, but I can't remember a single word.  That was when I was doing a BSc in Computing Science and Applied Psychology at Bournemouth University - I loved the work and absorbed it like a sponge, getting Firsts in essays and exams.  However, my head blew up in the third year and I didn't finish it.  Ditto an Open University degree that I started.  Bummer.

My head is blowing up now, because of lack of sleep - I've taken two lorazepam and I'm going to give bed a whirl.