6997/19517
It’s payback time for me living a life of luxury with Covid! Now it’s my wife’s turn. And I am going to be doing a lot of child care for the next few days.
I had to get the kids ready for school and take them to school and then pick up my son early, take him to his gym lesson, keep him entertained for a couple of hours, then pick up his sister, take them both home, make them dinner, bath them and get them to bed.
I enjoyed it immensely, but I was wiped out by the end of it.
Even though Ernie was only in school for half a day he managed to cut his own hair, throw oats over the other kids (and himself, oats were falling out of his clothes all day) and get into trouble for not listening to the teachers. It’s the kind of perpetual anarchy that I admire, but it’s hard to deal with when you’re the one who’s meant to stop it. But he has a sweet and generous heart and a vivid imagination and his lies and stories are something to behold.
I managed to get a tiny bit of work done in the mornings as the kids played on their iPads and whilst Ernie was doing his gym class (prepping for Sunday’s RHLSTP in Bristol with Jon Culshaw - which will be like interviewing a thousand people and I am going to ask them all if they’ve tried to suck their own cocks). But never mind, I still have Monday before my deadline comes up and only have 53000 words to go. It’s going well though.
The boy and I had our lunch at Pizza Express. There was an old man sitting outside. “Hello Grandpa!” said Ernie. It’s hard to explain why that’s rude. He thinks he’s begin friendly.
He loves chatting with strangers and kept laughing at the baby at the next table who was being naughty. He somehow seemed to charm the baby’s mum, even though he was encouraging the kid to throw its pasta around. The mum said how much Ernie looked like me. And behaved like me too, I thought.
You’re so much like me. I’m sorry.
We got back to school with a bit of time to spare. My anarchic little monster refused to queue with the other parents and ran to the gate. “I hate queuing,” he shouted. I took him back to the back of the queue, but he managed to escape and run back to the gate, just as it was being opened. “Ha ha,” he shouted, “I am first. I didn’t queue.” Everyone laughed. Yet if I’d behaved like that then they would have looked down their noses.
We’re all off on an adventure tomorrow, as long as we continue to test negative, as I am taking the kids (without Covid Catie- as we call her) to Bristol. They both excitedly packed tonight and my daughter wanted to know if she’d be able to come on stage and do some jokes. I don’t think there’s much doubt where all this is heading..
It’s a relief to know that I once again have a chance to see them grow up (though also it’s good to be reminded that that’s not a foregone conclusion). As tough as solo parenting is, and as sad as I am to be leaving Catie behind, I am really looking forward to it.
I watched the end of
the interview with Barry tonight. I love the fact that he was reluctant to let me compliment him at the end, but I was glad I got in a few love-punches anyway. He walked off the stage, with a little spring in his step and gave the sweetest wave.
I realised that this was one of his last ever appearances on stage, maybe even the last one. If so, it was the perfect au revoir from the great man.And how marvellous that it's on film so can be enjoyed for years to come.
