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No one is supposed to drink this much water. I am just constantly worrying about where I will be able to do my next (imminent) wee, and waking every 30 minutes through the night to wee (even though I stopped drinking four hours before bed tonight). Surely no one can cope with this much liquid. Or if they do, they never go out again. I was out today and life was a constant worry.
Mildly suffering from the stupid (non-Covid) bug that I’ve finally caught after two months of everyone else in the family having it. But when you’re a parent you have to have bits removed if you think you’re getting any time in bed and with Catie working to another book deadline I had the pleasant duty of looking after the kids. Ernie was only in nursery for the morning and then was off to Little Gym, so I got two hours to do my admin and then the rest of my day was child-wrangling.
And I have to say I enjoyed it a lot more than work.
After his gym class I took my son to Pizza Express for lunch. I think this might have been the first time we’d been out for a meal just as father and son (usually at least one other member of the family has been with us) and we were able to chug down a couple of beers and chat about people we fancy. Ernie didn’t touch his beer and preferred to scribble on the menu with crayons, but it was still a good man’s day out.
We did a little bit of shopping and then had to walk back to our car in some cold rain and Ernie cried and said he wanted to go home. I’ve had a few lads’ nights out like this to be fair. But we rallied and then went to pick up Phoebe from school before heading to another town to pick up my dry-cleaning.
We know how to live.
There was a mild emergency as I noticed that one of my tyres was looking a bit flat, but we finally got to a petrol station and I knelt on the cold floor and pumped it up a bit, whilst my kids punched each other inside.
We had a little family dinner, with Catie’s dad and had brandy snaps and mince pies for pudding, so it started to feel a bit like Christmas. I have always loved brandy snaps as, but the first time I had them, I got confused about what they were called and asked if I could have another “figâ€. When offered a fig I was disappointed to be offered a horrible globule of nastiness and tried to explain I wanted the delicious figs with cream in the middle. My parents had some friends over and everyone laughed at my cute misunderstanding. I didn’t like the laughter and ran out of the dining room, crying at my humiliation.
Twenty-eight years old, I was.
I also got a call from Barry Cryer. I thought these were birthdays only, but the service also runs to people who have had cancer and don't any more. He told me a sweet joke and was on his way. I know he will be at my funeral.
