Categories: uncategorized
Date: 08 February 2005 18:19:20
Or how are the mighty fallen! Mr Miff took to his bed yesterday morning. I managed to keep going, only to admit defeat and collapse in a heap in front of daytime TV ( I NEVER watch daytime televison normally) this morning. In fact, in the space of a few hours I watched more than I've done in the preceeding 6 months: a programme which seemed to be about pregnant rhinos and giraffes, Euro family exchange, (a British and German family swap homes, jobs and schools). This included the keeping of the other family's 'house rules,' so Mrs UK found herself doing all the household chores after a hard day at work, whilst the German kids discovered that in the UK, children cook as well as Mum. Surprisingly enough - the one exception to the 'housework is for the wife only,' rule was the cleaning of the bathroom and toilets ; this was a regular chore for the German teenagers. Mrs UK seemed quite alarmed at this - citing the danger of her innocent offspring being exposed to dirt and germs. IMHO, your average teenager's bedroom harbours worse dangers than this. Maybe hers were the exception that proves the rule!
An unexpected highlight was being able to watch Ellen McArthur sailing into Falmouth. :) And probably rendered all the more inspiring by being viewed through a happy haze of Benylin and Day Nurse. At the moment I'm never sure what will come out whenever I open my mouth; a squeak or a croak. (And of course, that's always when folk decide to phone me!). Finally crawled out of the house this afternoon to Sainsbury's to get the wherewithal for the required 'substantial packed lunch' for T's homeward journey tomorrow. I hope he's had a good time, despite the coughs and sneezes.
Nasty fright earlier. Ms M came in in tears. She's managed to drive her car into the back of another one. Thank goodness neither she and her friend were hurt. Luckily they were only going at 10 mph at the time. But the bonnet is in an 'interesting shape.' I gather the other vehicle, a people carrier - received a tiddly scratch to the bumper. They've exchanged details, and we await the phone call. Meanwhile, I've been asked to break the news to her father. I don't think he'll be overworried; the main concern being the dent to her confidence. She's done a few longish journeys, but what she's lacking is regular everyday practice. As she says to me, she's trying so hard to drive safely. She's needing the car for an interview next week. And she was also planning to drive to a friend's some 40 miles away, in order to be able to ferry folk to and fro from a party, knowing that without her there'll probably be far too many people crammed into the other car.
In the midst of all this, I'm fending off phone calls from Ms Miff's brother, worrying about transport to bowling this evening. I arrange a taxi for 5 pm as requested. He then decides that's too early. I phone and change the booking. The doorbell rings and I open the door to the mother of one of his friends, who says she can offer the boys a lift after all. I call the taxi firm yet again. They're not exactly thrilled - especially as the specially requested espace is already waiting outside our house. I dash outside and tell the driver about the cancellation, just as son and friends saunter up the road. Of course they can't understand why I'm telling the taxi to go away again. Meanwhile, friend's Mother has been left to the tender mercies of Miffdog inside the house. Poor thing - it's the first time we've actually met, and she's greeted by this wild-eyed, dishevelled, croaking creature (and that's just me!), babbling about car crashes and seemingly incapable of any degree of domestic organisation. This is the same lady, who's just agreed to let us whisk her son off with us to America in the summer. She must be wondering about the wisdom of such a decision.