The Remains of the Weekend
It's 4:30pm on Sunday afternoon, and you find me sitting in the junk room, emptying my head into the keyboard of the old computer. It's been making strange noises recently – I'm half-expecting it to stop working entirely soon. It's already dark and cold outside – the nights are drawing in quickly.
Our middle girl played rugby this morning – which for me usually entails standing on the touchline with a video camera to record evidence of progress for her college course. Not this morning though – having charged and prepared the camera, I discovered there was no match – just a training session. I busied myself by making conversation with another parent while slowly losing feeling in my feet. Crikey it was cold.
Following rugby we returned home, fed our faces, and then my other half left to visit her Mum – about an hour away by car. I have been left in charge of making roast dinner. I've already peeled the potatoes and prepared the vegetables for the steamer – I just need to put the chicken in a bit later.
Roast dinner is one of those meals that I always thought unimaginably complicated while growing up – but turned out to be remarkably simple. Saying that, my version of roast dinner is perhaps more simple than most – just roast potatoes, steamed carrots, broccolli, and sweetcorn, roast chicken, and gravy. Note to self – must remember to put a vegetable option in the oven for other half (she's vegetarian).
At some point – either while waiting for dinner to cook, or maybe later – I need to pack clothes into a suitcase. I fly to Germany again in the morning. Another week away from home – another week alone in a hotel, eating alone in restaurants, and walking the streets of a distant city alone in the mornings and evenings. I'm taking a couple of books with me, and will no doubt find something to write about along the way too. People watching has become a guilty pleasure while traveling.
I keep watching the clock. I should go and switch the oven on in a bit – warm it up ready for the chicken.