15th May 2011

The weather has taken a turn for the worse. Despite last week’s overly optimistic forecast, it has been chillier and damper than predicted, though, unlike the Spanish, we haven’t had an earthquake yet.

Sue spent Monday, Tuesday, and Thursday afternoons in school. I offered to help by giving a science lesson on Friction, but she wisely declined, thus avoiding the potential for a different kind of family friction altogether.

On Monday afternoon, I chauffeured our next-door neighbour, Doreen, to Leicester General Hospital to visit her husband, Peter, who’s been unwell. He looked fine enough, but was scheduled for another operation on Friday, corrective work from a procedure a few months ago that hadn’t gone as planned. We stayed about four hours. When I popped around to see Doreen again on Thursday with a few cucumber plants (and to check on Peter’s progress), I discovered the operation had been postponed until Monday.

Tuesday saw Sarah and me at the Rothwells’. I helped Lucas plant eight sunflowers in the garden, seedlings he’d started in pots earlier in the spring. Sarah drove, as she was off line dancing with Charlotte later. While they were twirling, Suraj, Lucas, Ellis, and I stuck to something far more cultural: two episodes of The Simpsons.

Wednesday evening, Jamie invited Sue and me over for “tea”, which, as it turned out, was just that: hot drinks. I had coffee, and after an hour of gerbil talk and flat-cleaning strategies, the dangling fire alarm from that recent fire brigade incident remained unmentioned but ever-present. With no sign of food materialising, we eventually took the hint and left.

Later, I took Sarah to see Hanna at the cinema, an excellent film, particularly if you like the Bourne trilogy. On our return, a full-blown household drama erupted when Sarah couldn’t find her mobile. There was much wringing of hands and dramatic dashing about until I checked the very spot she insisted she’d already searched “at least a dozen times”… and there it was. Bedtime: midnight.

A few days later, Jamie extended another tea invitation to Sue, who spent two hours explaining the finer points of cleaning skirting boards, what to use on different surfaces, and the great mystery of why Hoovers stop working when the bag is full.

On Thursday, Charlotte had a meeting with Vodafone management about her return from maternity leave. They’re keen for her to come back, offering all sorts of flexible options, though I suspect she’ll choose the stay-at-home mum route.

Friday was Family Curry Night. Two fine specimens graced the table: Chicken Tikka and a potent Chicken Vindaloo. The Rothwells came, and later Jamie turned up to devour the remains of the Tikka. He declared he was worried about his junk food intake and intended to eat more healthily. I suggested the Vindaloo, which would’ve cleared him out in one go. Lee arrived around 11 p.m. and stayed over.

On Saturday, Sarah and Lee enjoyed a coach trip from Corby to London to see the play Chicago, do some shopping, and visit Chinatown. They returned weary but happy at 10 p.m. Sue, meanwhile, went solo to the cinema to see The King’s Speech after Brigitte was taken ill. I watched the Tigers beat the Saints on the Rugby Club TV. The club was buzzing with a Harley Davidson weekend and awash with tattoos and very amiable bikers. Young Harley (the person, not the bike) was behind the bar earning pocket money.

Sunday, Sarah worked another full day at Savers, Sue had a long call from Gwenda in Canada, and I successfully secured four tickets to the Aviva Premiership Final at Twickenham on the 28th.