It had been a very quiet week, marked by persistent rain. The river level was constantly rising and falling. Regrettably, School Sports Day had to be cancelled; the only event that might have been viable was a 50-metre rice planting race! Foolishly, I did manage to play two hours of tennis with three other mad friends in the drizzle on Thursday. Although my game has become rather pedestrian, I still feel just as shattered as I did in my younger, more energetic days.

Sarah was competing in yet another swimming gala on Saturday. The Harborough Club came a disappointing fifth, and for once, Sarah failed to notch up a new PB. Noticeably, I wasn’t reminded that PBs equate to cash rewards, a small mercy, perhaps?

In driving rain, I gave Jamie a driving lesson through the congested streets of Leicester. He did surprisingly well, particularly considering the abundance of roadworks and temporary traffic lights. We spent most of the time diverting in an attempt to stay on the official test route. The most useful bit of guidance I offered was: “I think we should have taken that turning back there… I think.”

When I spoke to Charlotte during the week, it seemed, unusually, that everyone was fit and well. Even Suraj had mostly recovered from a bout of ‘man flu’.

Interestingly, I spotted an otter in the river last week. It was the sound of it crunching on a freshly caught fish that caught my attention. Sarah, ever nonchalant, remarked that she’s been watching it from her bedroom window for ages. Sadly, I haven’t seen it since, perhaps the rain scared it off?