Weeknotes 144: It smells like meatballs in here

You never close your eyes anymore when I kiss your lips” is a banger of a lyric to start a song, but is dated as a go to reference for fading love. Most of the metaphors are from a male gaze of an era. Still a tune.

I came home from work to find The Chef mildly broken on the first day of school holidays, with both kids near full whine. They’d been to a playout on the green where one kite was shared between five children and You’re not invited to my party,” was uttered. God tier fallout for a 4 year old. Sorry cards were written and delivered later to grudging acceptance.

Things ran more smoothly by Tuesday and I was informed that, We went to the lollipop shop to post a letter!” Which is what you get when you stop by the Post Office for treats on the way home from swimming. Late starts have turned into late nights; awakeness fuelled only by a small child’s hatred of sleep.

While on the drive up to Lǎolao and Lǎoyé’s, The Chef was roasted for being too old to hear the church bells. By the time I was off work all three of them were napping.

Par for the Wee Free Man who’s taken well to his new sleep routine. We spent the week congratulating ourselves on how well we’ve trained him, then realised that it’s more likely that he just hasn’t got a blocked nose anymore. I know every time he’s napping because The Chef sends me another picture of his feet. I’m not going to say it’s not getting weird.

Otherwise he’s doing the normal baby things. He’s sitting up till the second he’s not. He is filled with delighted rage any time anything is within an inch of his face, gurgling words” to the effect, That mother****er’s going in my MOUTH!” The only thing that’s more interesting than whatever’s going on behind his head.

I’d written in Morning Pages that I felt a deep glowing internal happiness with life. And I’m on holiday! Even finished work sensibly with all the urgent stuff complete by Thursday. This combination of events might be related.

We kicked it off with wine and nibbles. The Wee Free Man collecting his obligatory collection of waves from strangers. The Chef excited to hear news of a new fried chicken place opening locally soon.

After a delayed 100 day feast we had Piglet’s inaugural art show at home. A guest appearance from Spiderman–shorter than you’d imagine–before the artiste refused to explain her work. A dropped Deliveroo was swiftly replaced by a trip to Asda for some of their much better than you’d expect curry. Away next week, so these will probably be late.

30 July 2023


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Weeknotes 143: Did you type letters to make it happen? School’s out for summer. School’s out forever. School’s been blown to pieces. Etc, etc. I’ve not mentioned them much here, but they’re a lovely lot.
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Weeknotes 145: I’m going on the loggy thing Northumberland in the summer tests the adage, “at least your skin’s waterproof.” The place was superb; fields forever, stargazing balcony, bedroom