Life is settling into a new pattern – I get into London at lunch time Monday and head home on the 19.48 train out of Paddington on Friday. Whereas 18 months ago catching the Friday evening train was a bit of a scrum, now all is peace and calm with a booked seat and people occupying just the window seats – which prompts the question where are all those other people who used to catch a train at this time – are they still working from home? Curious, and possibly worrying. Can good train companies, like the one I rely on, the GWR (Great WesternRailway), make money enough to continue the good service we’ve been used to? We do hope so.
Nevertheless, life still has the potential to be de-railed by Covid and no sooner had I been let into the Islington house last Monday than I discovered the smallest person was once again off school after someone in the school bubble had tested positive for the virus – all of 4 days after she ‘d got back to nursery at the end of another ten days at home for the same reason. Whether the fact that very few people dropping children off/picking them up wear masks has anything to do with it I couldn’t say for certain but it did make me wonder. Meanwhile, her brother, the not so small person, has been at (a different) school continuously, and nobody seemed to be wearing masks to pick up there either, so who knows what’s happening!
Our household is fortunate as there are three of us around in the day to care for our little charge. Invalid mummy occupying the kitchen sofa, foot elevated and Zooming for much of the day, is admirably tolerant of her daughter’s comings, goings and sometime interruptions. The home help is very good at luring a not always enthusiastic child away to do some schoolwork, as well as getting her to help tidy her own room or the mess she’s created in other rooms and is better than all of us at getting her to eat at meal times. I’ve always thought it was important for children to be able to entertain themselves, so while I did some sock sorting and ironing I was pleased to watch and listen to her commentary as she played with random things she found in a forgotten about basket of sundry toys. That we didn’t need to do the school run twice a day released a surprising amount of time, even though the nursery is less then 15 minutes away – still I suppose there and back twice does take up an hour of the day, every day, which seems pretty considerable to me.
TV sport has been enjoyable this week. I had happy memories of watching England beat Germany in the World Cup of 1966 and I well remember Gareth Southgate’s missed penalty against Germany in the semi finals of Euro 96 which knocked us out of the game. So, on Tuesday, it was with some trepidation that my grandson and I turned the television on for the last 20 minutes of England’s match against Germany. What delight and joy then for a new football fan and a jaded fair weather supporter (me) when five minutes later England scored … and even better scored again just after mummy had hobbled upstairs and daddy had come in from work. What pleasure to watch the small person, who jumped into the air off the sofa, in the act of laying down a memory that will always be with him. The next evening the small person also enjoyed watching Andy Murray play tennis, the finer points of which were pointed out to him by a rueful mummy nursing her own very inconvenient tennis injury as she wondered how long it would be before she would be playing again.
Cats figure very large in our lives. In Cheltenham our cat, Gin, scarcely took her eyes off my husband while I was away and she was particularly zealous in her attention when he hurt his back putting the recycling out and lay down for rather longer than was usual in the day time. At night she took over my side of the bed and instead of jumping down after a while, stayed there all night, I don’t think she was especially pleased to see me on Friday night. In London, I had the opposite problem and slept slightly askew as Mabel occupied the bit of bed where my feet would ideally have gone. If she wasn’t there daughters Minnie or Myrtle were instead which was all a bit too much so that by the end of the week I had to get proprietorial and set about reclaiming the bits of bed I needed. Meanwhile, across London, Winnie, another of Mabel’s daughters (and Minnie and Myrtle’s sister) had been missing for several days and concern was mounting. Family went around the neighbourhood looking for her and posters were put up. Daughter No 1 worried for her friend’s peace of mind. I related our missing cat stories – one got shut in a shed for a few days, another was taken in (and probably kept in) by someone for she appeared 6 weeks later, looking perfectly well fed and with a new collar. We didn’t dwell on the road accident scenario (of which we’d had a few) as we thought no news was good news on that front. So, great was the relief when the call came on Friday morning that Winnie had just appeared, hungry and a bit bedraggled. Relief all round and more ecstatic joy from the little ones.
Here is the second of two jumpers I have made for a friend’s grandchildren – I would probably never have made either of them if it weren’t for the circumstances of this peculiar year but I have much to thank this friend for and I am glad to have made something I know she will enjoy seeing them wearing. The first is blogged about here. This jumper is the 15th I’ve knitted to this pattern.
Small triumphs this week – both little ones lined their shoes up neatly in the hall after school and the bigger of the little ones folded up his pyjamas and took them to the bathroom on every day since Wednesday. Tidiness is like a muscle that needs lots of exercise and we shall give it plenty of that over the next few months.
4 Comments
They do say it takes a village to raise a child!
And there’s a lot of truth in that!
I admire your family for weighing in and making things work through your daughter’s recovery! And of course the sweaters are lovely.
ceci
Thank you, Ceci, though I do think it’s a poor show if you can’t help your own family