Sunday Happened
I'm trying hard to write more regularly at the momentto get back to the person that used to write such inventive rubbish a few years ago. I look back at those past words from time to time and invariably find myself thinking “my current stuff is crap compared to this”. So yeah I guess I'm in “infinite monkey” mode (you know, where if I write enough, I'll end up writing something as worthy as the entire works of shakespeare). The only failing with this planof courseis that the sun will swallow the earth up before it happens.
This morning started at 6am when I woke with my mobile phone alarm playing some twee rubbish at me (I haven't changed it from the factory default yet). I switched it off, remembered the F1 race in Japan didn't start for another hour, and would probably be rubbish anyway, and fell back asleep. I woke with a start after a dream I can't remember nowbut must have been goodand looked at the clock. Ten to eight. Dammit.
After looking at the ceiling for a while and daydreaming, some kind of perverse autopilot took oversliding me out of bed, and walking me downstairs to put the TV on and watch a few minutes of the race at least, because the likelihood of seeing it later was somewhere between zero and a negative number. Armed with coffee, and displaying this years new morning hairstyle (“neanderthal”), I squinted at the TV as the satellite box went through it's interminable boot-up routine. Finally the racing cars appeared on the television, and apparently I hadn't missed much at allon account of it raining, and F1 drivers not figuring out that you have to slow down in the wet.
I didn't watch much of the “race”. I ended up picking stuff up all over the house, washing the contents of the sink up, and getting Miss 10's stuff ready for rugby. After chasing her (she was sat in pyjamas in the playroom watching cartoons), she looked unimpressed, and stomped off upstairs to get ready. Only she didn't get ready. My other half found her ten minutes later, and a long talk ensued;“Do you like playing rugby? So why don't you want to go? But lots of players hardly ever get the ball It's supposed to be a team game” and so it went on for another quarter of an hour.
She finally arrived downstairs in her kit ten minutes after we would normally have left the house. We dashed out the front door amid promises that Mum would come and watch later, and that her sisters might come too. None of them arrivedI knew they wouldn't. They never do. I'm not going to write any more about that.
Refuelled on cheese and pickle sandwiches, myself, Miss 14, and Miss 10 sat in the lounge most of the afternoon watching the latest Transformers movie. I marvelled throughout that the lead actress could be blown up, shot at, flung all over the place, and exploded repeatedly, and still walk away with perfect makeup, perfect hair, and without a bruise or cut to be seen. Mind youwho knew Mark Wahlberg was stronger than a 100 ton baddie transformer ? (watch the sword fight bit with Megatron Jr, or whatever the hell his name was).
While the younger kids went to a swimming lesson this evening I was charged with making dinner. We ended up with chicken curry. I should be a TV cookand show people how easy it is to make things out of packets. Armed with chicken breasts, a wok, a bottle of sauce, and a bag of rice, and a saucepan full of water, I at least shut the kids up, who were of course ravenous when they returned from swimming.
While writing this, Downton Abbey is on in the other room, and I'm not watching itmore or less confirming the notion that I can pretty much take or leave anything. I watched last week's episodethat's enough for one season, right?