I think that I have got a problem.
I am in trouble.
Number One Daughter is coming up this weekend. She is bringing Ritalin Boy and his Identical Twin Cousin to stay with their Other Grandma for the half term. We are going to have them for one night, which will be fine.
Ritalin Boy is not the problem.
The problem is that Number One Daughter rang this evening and suggested that she accompany me on my run in the morning.
I gulped a little.
“Don’t worry,” she chirruped encouragingly, “I’m not much good at running either. You’ll be fine.”
I contemplated, gloomily, the difference between Number One Daughter’s idea of ‘not much good’ and mine. I thought I was doing brilliantly well when I finally made it to the end of the alley without collapsing, and really I can only actually do it on the way back, which is downhill.
I have resigned myself to humiliation.
Tomorrow I am going to go for a run with one of the fittest people in the world.
I might pretend to have twisted my ankle.
Matters have not been helped by having just had two days of glorious, slothful self indulgence.
Yesterday we went out for an upmarket lunch and ate and drank far too much. This is much nicer to do in a loose dress than in trousers but it does rather negate the waistband early warning system that otherwise comes into play to discourage excessive portliness.
Today we collected Lucy and went to meet Nan and Grandad for lunch.
There were going to be some other relatives as well, but they couldn’t make it, so it was just us after all. Nobody minded this, because we like having lunch together and do not need anybody else to make it go with a swing, and in any case it meant that we could talk about the absent relatives, which we did.
The lunch came quite swiftly on the heels of getting up. We were woken up rather earlier than expected by the soft pattering of rain on the roof. We have not heard this sound for weeks and weeks, and it was almost exciting, at least until we remembered that somebody had to get up and close the roof window. Mark did this, because I am not tall enough to reach.
We made coffee and sat in bed listening to the rain, and eventually got up to a world in which all the scents had been massively amplified. We breathed in pollen and wet grass and clean leaves, and hawthorn. It has been so wonderfully sunny that we didn’t mind rain at all.
It was ace to see Lucy.
The dogs were beside themselves with the happiness of the reunion.
She had been on a Business Studies trip to a crisp factory, and had a carrier bag stuffed with bizarre but promising flavours of crisps, including one made out of peas. We assured her that we would all help her sample them as part of our healthy living project, but she declined, explaining that she had brought them home in order to mitigate the worst of my catering deficiencies.
She had lots to say about school. Some girls have been unkind to some others and the head has spoken gravely of acceptance and pride in one another and in their marvellous school. Also, to our relief, after considerable deliberation she has decided not to go to the school Summer Ball this year.
The Summer Ball is for sixth formers and their families, and is an importantly grown up event. Despite this, we are jolly glad that she has decided not to bother, because tickets are the purchase price of a new taxi. She is going to eat out with some of her best friends instead, and we are all going to go to the ball together next year. Next summer is going to be expensive. Not only will there be tickets for the ball, and a new ball gown for Lucy, she will also need an upmarket dress and hat for her Speech Day passing out parade. We might start doing the lottery in preparation for the event.
Oliver’s school is not having a Summer Ball this year, possibly because last year’s turned into something of an intoxicated riot. We did not attend because of work, and only heard stories afterwards. I hope they have another one before he leaves. The stories were ace.
We congregated in the pub for lunch, and then, you will not be in the least surprised to hear, Mark and I had a little snooze before setting off home.
The children were mildly surprised to discover our new sleeping arrangements, but accepting, at least once Mark had put the bathroom door back up. They do not use our bathroom, but they value our privacy very much. This is because we are old and crumbly and there are some things about which they would prefer not to know, starting with our ablutions.
We are all together again, and tomorrow we will have Number One Daughter as well.
Mark took the picture. I am going to try and paint the flowers some time.
