Weeknotes 081: Whatever The Chef Said
The toddler conundrum: steam trains or terrifying birds by sprinting over to make friends? Whichever she’d settled on, her delight was palpable and she lay in bed singing to herself past 10 pm. Thankfully she’s staying in her bed. And it won’t last, but we’re enjoying every minute while it does.
Piglet tried a new swimming pool with Grandma complete with pirate ship and “water up to my chin!” She planned to “hold a red, spotty fish by its belly so it can’t bite me,” when visiting Lǎolao and Lǎoyé. They bought her a bubble maker instead.
As Covid doesn’t exist anymore2, it’s moved to a small talk topic. When we met the other parents we chatted about pandemic raising routines. The thing I’ve most struggled with is the lack of compressed time that comes with a new child and a full-time job. It was easy to be flexible and I never learned how to fit chores around Piglet. As the flexibility receded I realised I was short of time-management skills. I still haven’t returned to a regular shower time-slot. Which is a long-winded preamble to say I got my hair cut on Wednesday.
An unexpected addition to my routine is Dracula Daily (via Garbage Day). Bram Stoker’s book sent to your inbox between May and November on the same date as the in-story entries. Not how the book was intended, but it’s been fun so far.
And while we’re on works from previous centuries, a song doesn’t always have to be new. Sometimes it’s just has to be a banger.
I’ve a friend who’s been struggling with losing his job. We spotted he’d stopped logging in to WhatsApp and I tried calling (straight to answer-phone) and emailing (not even an answer-phone). He’s moved out of his flat to stay with family and, left with no choice, I turned to internet stalking. An hour walking around Google maps got me a good guess and £5 access to the electoral register confirmed it. All that was left was to fret and plan his bollocking. A dry run for when Piglet’s older and does the same trick.
Piglet was collected from nursery to go caravaning with grandma and granddad. The Chef had a Saturday shift. So I headed South and scared the bejesus out of him when I knocked on the door. Sounds like it’s been tough and we’ve scheduled a regular pub quiz night to get him out IRL.
Trip aside I spent the day in the garden ripping out the decking. Old and rotten enough that there was a frog living under it. I’m covered in spider bites but it was worth it to see the look of devotion in the little robin’s eyes for the feast I’d given him.
With Piglet away we had back-to-back nights out. Sushi with—and I concede this is an odd thing to praise—excellent soy sauce, the MCU with wine and enough steak to kill several cows. Not sure who’s indigestion is worse—mine or the robin’s.
Grandma and Granddad don’t take pictures, but we had an hourly update throughout the weekend. When they came round for Sunday roast, it was tough to decide who between the three of them had the bigger smile.