17th June 2007

I didn’t think I’d get around to adding much, if anything, to the blog this week, as I’ve been completely shattered. I’ve been arriving at school before 7:00 a.m. each day, thanks to the Headteacher swanning off with Year 6 on their residential field trip to York. This has left me teaching all day and dealing with all the planning, paperwork, and general chaos, which had to be squeezed in either before or after school. Naturally, I’m still expected to meet with parents, advisors, and anyone else who happens to wander in looking lost. Miraculously, I managed to escape before 6:00 p.m. each evening.

That said, on Wednesday evening I nodded off on the sofa and completely missed the 7:00 p.m. PTA meeting. Somehow, they coped without me. I told them I’d forgotten. It sounded marginally better than admitting I’d fallen asleep like a pensioner after Songs of Praise.

Despite glorious weather in Leicestershire, it rained all week in York, which I found oddly satisfying. That said, the rain did eventually reach us, making a brief but decisive appearance in Market Harborough on Thursday evening, just in time to ruin my weekly tennis match. Typical.

Jamie’s moped took ill on Tuesday night en route to Foxton Locks. I popped over around 8:00 p.m. to investigate. The engine did start, but it sounded like it had bronchitis. I told him to ring me when he finished work and I’d follow him home in the car (rookie mistake). He usually finishes at 10:30 p.m., but because the weather was nice and the punters were out in force, I didn’t get the call until 11:45 pm. His speed on the way back was best described as “erratic”, but he made it. The moped is now sulking in the garage awaiting repairs. I’m bracing myself for the bill, because I know exactly who’ll be footing it.

Jamie tells us he’s expecting a visit from a friend called Morgan this Saturday. He assures us she’s not a girlfriend, just a friend who happens to be a girl. I’m still trying to work that one out.

On Friday, I drove up to Thurcroft to visit my mother, as it was her birthday on Saturday. She’s now as old as I feel, which is saying something. Sarah had wanted to come, but was busy with music lessons, a swimming gala, and an alarming amount of homework (which, to my astonishment, she actually does voluntarily; I certainly never did). Before leaving, we squeezed in a family visit to the doctor for our holiday inoculations. Thankfully, only Sarah needed jabbing, but we were hit with the cheery news that we’ll all need malaria tablets. Oh joy.

While driving up the M1, I spotted a couple of tornadoes looming ominously over Leicester. According to the radio, one apparently did a bit of damage to the east of the city, and Sue later claimed that one passed directly over our house. When I got back on Sunday, the house was still there (which was a relief), although there’s now a suspicious amount of sand in the pool. Not usually a good sign.

Over the weekend, I took Mum to see my stepbrother David in Althorp (the Lincolnshire version, not the stately one). It’s a lovely spot, and he’s finally getting into gardening. He’s also starting to look more and more like his father, which is rather unnerving. I offered to take him and Genya out for lunch, but they politely declined. I’ve never actually seen either of them eat. Their fabulous kitchen has no cooker, no oven, and, most curiously, the microwave doesn’t even have a plug. They do, however, own the most unique and eccentric dining set I’ve ever come across. I offered them £2000 for it (half-joking), but they refused. I’m beginning to suspect they may be vampires. It would explain why they don’t eat, and everyone working at their Drop-in Centre is pale and avoids natural light.

On Saturday night, I treated Mum to a birthday meal at a pub in Firbeck, where the food came with a twist: you had to cook it yourself on a slab of volcanic rock at the table. They called it On the Rock. It was actually quite fun, though I’m not convinced it’s suitable for children (or, frankly, the easily distracted). I could hear the personal injury lawyers rubbing their hands with anticipation.

On the way home on Sunday, Charlotte asked me to swing by Newark as it was Father’s Day. Suraj and young Lucas had finally recovered from their recent bout of plague, so apparently it was safe for the old man to visit. We had a pleasant walk around the grounds of Suraj’s new office, which is set right by the River Trent in a rather nice spot. I do hope the good people of Newark appreciate it, given that it’s coming out of their council tax.

Now, while taking Grandad for a gentle Sunday stroll may be a time-honoured tradition, this particular grandad still enjoys ice skating, scuba diving, trampolining, tennis, paintballing, snorkelling, caving, quad biking, jet skiing, tree climbing, chainsawing, diving, eating crocodile, and making sloe gin. Two weeks ago, I did an 11-mile walk along the Fosse Way, in the pouring rain, just for something to do. Knocked it out in three hours. Honestly, I think they’re starting to believe I’m older than I actually am.

We had a lovely BBQ lunch afterwards, beautifully cooked by Charlotte. Unfortunately, the meat they’d bought was still frozen solid. Thankfully, I’d brought some BBQ-ready meat from Thurcroft, so that’s what we ended up eating. It seems parents never stop being parents, even when their children have moved out, bought a third house, had a child of their own, and now refer to you as “Grandad”. We still provide the food. Some things never change.