13th April 2008

Nan had been staying with us since Easter, but as ever, she soon grew restless and was itching to return to Thurcroft. So, on Friday night, I made the late-night trek north to take her home. Earlier that day, Sarah had been off yomping across the wilds of Leicestershire as part of her Duke of Edinburgh expedition, two days of walking, camping, and likely wondering why she didn’t just sign up for Chess Club instead.

Sue and I had booked to see the film Eastern Promises at the local cinema (very good, very gory, very much not one for the faint-hearted), which meant I didn’t leave for Thurcroft until after 10 pm. Unsurprisingly, the motorway was as empty as a school car park in August, so we made good time and arrived around 11:30 pm, both feeling utterly done in. Straight to bed, no questions asked.

The following morning (Saturday), we had carpenters arriving at 8:30 am to fit the new doors. That meant me being up at the unholy hour of 5:30 am and driving south by 6:00. The two chippies turned up bang on time and got straight to work, while I dashed off to school to officiate a football tournament. The school team had a mixed bag of results: one win, one draw, one loss. Not bad, considering the chill in the air, cold but bright, just the ticket for a bit of footy.

I got home around 12:30 pm, grabbed a sandwich, and was gearing up to travel to Deepings with the Colts for a match, when thankfully (in hindsight) the fixture was cancelled. So instead, I travelled to Welford Road and watched the Tigers play the Ospreys. A dire game. Truly dreadful. I should’ve gone to Deepings after all. The Tigers were so poor they barely resembled a rugby team. A forgettable afternoon.

Unfortunately, Saturday’s woes weren’t over. Later in the day, Charlotte rang with some very upsetting news: Lucas had been rushed to the hospital. He’d managed to get into the bathroom while the bath was running and had toppled in. He scalded both hands up to the wrists. After initial treatment at Newark Hospital, he was transferred to the burns unit in Nottingham. The right hand isn’t too bad, but the left is worrying. He’s now on morphine to manage the pain, though he’s far too young to understand what’s going on. Naturally, Charlotte and Suraj are beside themselves. We’re all hoping that the brilliant team at the burns unit can work their magic and, with luck, this will be just a frightening memory that fades with time.

On a lighter note, Jamie is heading to Bournemouth next weekend with a friend (male, before the rumour mill kicks in). It’s his 19th birthday, and he seems genuinely excited. The grand old age of 19… barely out of school and already planning seaside getaways.

Also at the weekend, Simon ran in the London Marathon. Philippa and Paul were there in person to cheer him on, while the rest of us (including Nan) squinted at the TV trying to spot him amongst 30,000 runners. No luck, unsurprisingly. He probably went whizzing by while we were arguing over whose turn it was to put the kettle on.

Finally, in a small but satisfying triumph, I planted several rows of carrots this week. Fingers crossed for a decent crop, and no visits from the neighbourhood rabbits.