- Another welcome Bank Holiday Monday. The sun was shining and so I took my youngest across the road to the park with his brother’s bike to learn how to ride it. He did well, and almost got to the stage where I could let go, but he was tired by then, and we decided to try again another day.
- The rest of the week was half-term school holidays so L took the boys to her parents’ in Wiltshire for a few days. Her brother was also visiting, meaning another chance for the cousins to play together and gallop around the house.
- Which also meant I had a quiet, empty house back here. Not quite a holiday for me - I was still working - but I took the opportunity to watch evening episodes of Andor and read Mickey 7 in peace.
- We hate looking for family holidays. We can never decide where to go, and even when we shortlist a hotel/destination we find reasons to talk ourselves out of it. We’ve been half-looking since last summer, so I’m mightily relieved/skint to be paying a deposit for a week in August on the “family side” of Ibiza.
- H is nine-years-old; I am quite a bit older. I need to remember this when playing football with him in the park. On Saturday, chasing after the ball, I slipped, broke my fall with my hand and hyperextended my elbow (twisted it back). It’s now swollen, sore and I can’t straighten my arm. This follows my sprained ankle in April. What a wally.
- Nurse L made a sling for my arm with a triangular bandage so that I could go to the annual youth football presentation day and see H collect his little trophy. I must have sheepishly explained what happened to local friends a dozen times, but at least I had a hand free to enjoy a pint of cider in the sunshine.
