Weeknotes 107: That’s not a birdie, that’s a flamingo. Although, they both have beaks.
We’ve an unusual toddler in many ways. We were spared the worst of the clock change as she lay in till 7.30. She later proclaimed that she thinks she’ll like the dentist. It lived up to her expectation. A chuffed toddler gave the 5-star review. “I liked the dentist. I think I’ll come again.”
To make sure the dentist has plenty of work she joined the street Hallowe’en trick or treat. One of the unequivocal good outcomes of WhatsApp. I stayed home with a discarded bedsheet and a spooky Spotify soundtrack.
Discussing going to school over a breakfast of skittles and mini chocolate fingers, Piglet offered:
“I’m going to tell my teacher that there’s a baby in my house and she’ll say, ‘oooh, that’s lovely’.”
Again, true to her word, she walked up to the school door and instead of good morning blurted “Do you know?” Her teacher didn’t physically roll her eyes but emitted the emotion. I presume this is a recurring opening gambit for Piglet’s nonsensical offerings. A pause while the other kids streamed in.
“Do you know there’s a baby in mammy’s tummy? When it grows up, when it’s bigger, it’ll come out and I’ll be a sister.”
Followed by a proud stomp off down the corridor without waiting for acknowledgement. She’s sussed it.
We’re assuming her younger sibling will be full Geordie too; The Chef is already eating honky hotdogs for 3 meals a day.
It’s school visit season. There’s a consistent vibe to the local schools. Courtesy of the catchment area the diversity they’ll miss is Class. And I don’t know how to feel about that yet.
In an accidental nod to class war, Piglet’s school photos have a tasteful 90s side ponytail. I swear it was central when I sent her in.
Piglet has chosen her side in the war. When Grandma said no to more TV, the tiny middle-manager’s response was:
Why don’t we take the no out of that sentence and put a yes in?
Where has she got that from?
In the wider world, Zhengzhou is in a 17 day lockdown. People leaving Disneyland Shanghai had to provide a negative lateral flow or get locked-down there and then. Meanwhile in the UK, The Chef is working with Covid-positive technicians because Covid is no longer a legitimate sickness absence in the NHS. Not to be all Centrist Dad, but there’s a middle ground between the two. Japan is managing to stay open with low cases through sensible masking and ventilation.
Covid continues to kick my arse. 5-a-side was a struggle before it was cut short for a concussion. He’s fine. Piglet had asked to sleep out at Lǎolao and Lǎoyé’s, leaving the bathroom free for me to soak and listen to lovely, autumnal, Site Nonsite.
I discovered Blot has a 404 logging service built in. Top designing that. I spent a few minutes of my marinading pointing broken links to the Internet Archive and donated a few quid when I was done. Another top service that needs to continue existing. The only expired links I’m unsure of now are the ones where squatters have moved in to hawk crypto shite.
On the advice of Caroline Crampton I got some new pens for writing morning pages. It’s all getting a bit glossy YouTube Productivity Videos. A genre which I’m sometimes guiltily drawn to, but which always feels to have causality reversed; it’s the glossiness that leads to the bullet journal, not the opposite. Still, they’re nice pens.
While The Chef has been exhausted I’ve been celebrating Channel 4’s anniversary by catching up on A Very British Coup1. Delightful conspiracy nonsense with a flavour of truth. The difference between Harry Perkins (and Wilson for that matter) is competence, laced with charm. Anyone from the Left has to have a plan for the Mail. And I’m still upset that Momentum didn’t seem to realise that.
There’s a line in Coup about Wilson which put me on a Wikipedia trawl and I did not know about Clockwork Orange.
Going straight to a documentary about Iraq wasn’t the wisest decision with conspiracies whirling in my head. Everyone get’s one conspiracy theory don’t they? I’m too young for Kennedy, so I think the sad death of David Kelly might be mine.
Back in regular weeknotes, we went out to celebrate the death of another set of conspirators with fireworks. We weren’t sure how Piglet would react—fear of wonder—but we needn’t have worried. She belted down the road bouncing with excitement at every one. The inevitable crash afterwards was more than worth it.