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I'd tried to avoid the choking heat of the night by sleeping downstairs on the sofa in the slightly less stultifying lounge, but I carried on sweating and hoped that at least this would mean I finally shifted some weight (no luck).
Tough to get much done and Ally was not up for a Newsround, so we had family time. The girls went off to watch The Devil Wears Prada 2 which they both thought was ace and I watched the first Percy Jackson film with Ernie, who is really into the books.
After lunch we tried to navigate a dog walk in the shade and got to the park. Ernie asked me if he could come to the park on his own some time. There are a couple of tricky roads to cross and then the park is full of weird perverts, so it is probably not time to let him loose on his own. He's a bit of a law unto himself and until he gets punched in the face by a teenager, he is unlikely to learn boundaries. And I'd prefer he didn't get punched in the face yet. His dad has somehow largely avoided this fate, so maybe there is hope for him.
He insisted he could do it and wanted to prove it by going home on his own.
With some reluctance I let him set off a couple of minutes ahead of me. It was a big adventure for him and six months ago he wouldn't come downstairs in the house on his own, so it's great that he wants to. But it's not good for my fretting brain.
Would he get across the roads OK? Would one of the perverts who has managed to get a car and doesn't have to rely on the pickings at the park, scoop him into their vehicle and make off with him?
When I got to the bottom of our road I couldn't see him and started working out what I was going to say to Catie about losing a child. "I suppose the good news is, that we have one left...." How does anyone cope with the fact that their children gain autonomy and the constant dangers they are in? I think the answer is that they don't.
I rounded the curve a bit and saw him patiently waiting to cross our road. Once across he turned and saw me and waved with such glee that it was all worth the ten years this had taken off my life.
He waited for me and we walked home together. He told me how easy it had been to cross the first road (which is tricky cos traffic comes from three different directions) and how hard it was to cross the other one. But it had been the right call to let him have a go.
Later Instagram would throw up a reel about an American boy who convinced his parents that he should be allowed to go the bus stop alone (for the first time) and then was never seen again. Like it knew what I had been thinking about. I suppose it's a fair bet that anyone with kids would be thinking about something like that. And what is social media for if not to stoke up paranoia and statistically unlikely possibilities.
Played a few rounds of ping pong with Phoebe later. She can not only beat her grandad at chess but can (sometimes) beat her dad at table tennis, even if he is trying his hardest. Also she can take the disappointment on the rarer occasions when I now win so I don't have to throw it at the last minute.
She thinks she's better than me, well the joke's on her. I have helped destroy the planet so she will have a horrible future. Also it's good to be able to have a proper game against her. I have promised her £100 if she ever beats me 21-0 and I think I might have to pay up in the next year or so.
As she improves, I decline.
I found a moment or two for a little more drawing today. I have done a couple of stinkers that I won't share with you, but I quite like the energy of this one of my dad playing my daughter at chess. I think it really looks like Phoebe, but my wife (who is actually good at art) disagrees. But Van Gogh had to put up with a lot of people saying he was shit and he only sold one picture in his lifetime. I've sold fuck all, so look forward to this stuff making millions and Dr Who doing an episode about my huge impact on the world.
I prefer drawing buildings to people generally, but it's nice when I get it approximately close. Phoebe won the chess match incidentally much to my dad's chagrin.
