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OK, so I messed up once, but today I managed to finish the TV stand on my own (even thought it was a two man job) and was especially impressed with myself for bending the metal bits back and getting them fixed securely. I was one washer down so one screw went in without that protection (which will probably result in the whole thing falling apart after a week) but for now our new telly sits atop a new TV cabinet, that I built myself. Without any help. As long as you discount the people who made all the bits of it and did all the woodworking and metal working. We’d missed a few weeks of swimming due to the birth of Child B (as I call him) and a baby being sick in the pool. I finally managed to drag my tired arse and my alert daughter back to the diving centre where the lessons take place. She’s never really had an issue with swimming before but on her first lesson at this new place she’d started off excited and then quickly withdrawn and refused to join in and today the same thing happened. I think it was because the pool was a bit cold, although maybe so was the teacher. Even though there were only three kids in the lesson she didn’t make any time to try and explain what was going on to us relative newcomers, expecting us to just pick up what she meant by tiger paws or whatever. Admittedly we’d missed a lot of lessons and the other two kids were way ahead of Phoebe in ability and they also wanted to do the activities, but I don’t think it helped. We bailed out early again.
In the afternoon we went to Hitchin to buy shoes and wellies for Phoebe and to have a look around the centre of our nearest largish town. Phoebe got some cool trainers with dinosaurs on them, where the eyes light up when she’s walking. She was very pleased.
I walked the dog past the pub as I do most nights. We haven’t been in the pub since we went there last Christmas time when we were scoping out the village. We haven’t really had the time or energy yet. There are usually some people standing outside smoking, who say hello to me (or more usually the dog). The other night two men in darts shirts (the game not the band) saw me approaching. One of them said, “Fuck me, I thought that was Noel Edmonds.” I laughed and said “Thanks a lot,” in a sarcastic tone, but immediately wished I’d said, “I thought you were Mr Blobby.”
Edmonds is admittedly small and bearded, but a good bit older than me. And why would he be walking a dog in a Hertfordshire village at 10pm? I was insulted because I am nothing like him, apart from stature, facial hair and the belief that a box can cure cancer. I went home and shaved.
But for now all my drinking is done at home. And even though I am 50 I can’t tell you how excited I am to have a fridge with beer in it, even though I am not having a party. I always dreamed of having the kind of wealth (and self control) that meant I could afford to have beers in the fridge all the time (and wouldn’t just drink them all on the first night). Drinking alone is best. And then you don’t get insulted by strangers. Just yourself in the mirror.
