Let’s do this together
It’s another bank holiday weekend. You really can have too much of a good thing.
There’s been complaints about lack of productivity this month, mainly from parents who can’t get anything done because they’re having to enjoy enforced family time.
Not everyone loves a bank holiday – for all the salaried staff, there’s plenty of freelancers who lose wages because they can’t work.
Many retired folk don’t even notice bank holidays – my mum has been on one long gardening leave for 20 years! Although considering what us kids put her through, she deserves a lot longer.
And won’t somebody please think about the poor journalists (sniff) who are working hard on bank holidays to bring you all the news – or more importantly, cute dog and cat snaps.
It’s half-term week too, which means I have an entire week of entertaining The Dark Lord. Or rather, stopping her from entertaining herself the way she would wish – feet up, family-sized pack of bacon Frazzles, cans of Red Bull, and KFC for dinner every night.
I also clocked the real reason TDL hadn’t been gaming so much lately. It wasn’t because she’d suddenly become more interesting and cultured – it was just half her mates are doing GCSE exams at the moment and aren’t available to play with her.
I even caught her reading a book the other evening, although it turned out to be a comic book.
But she does seem to be paying more attention to her surroundings these days, instead of her usual mooning around in a dream world. TDL found a pair of brown leather Camper trainers in our hallway last week and asked, “Whose are these?”
I told her they were mine, and added, “They’re an old pair I’ve resurrected from the back of my wardrobe. Who else would own them? Did you think someone broke in and left their shoes in our hallway?”
She bristled and replied, “No, it’s just they don’t seem very ‘you’.”
And then I realised why she was asking. I smiled slyly and asked, “Does that mean you like them?”
“Yeah, they’re all right,” she muttered, which in teenage speak means they’re banging.
“Would you like a pair?” I joked, adding, “We could be twins.”
Her previously good mood evaporated suddenly and she huffed, “Oh my days. I would rather cut my feet off than be seen in the same shoes as you!”
“This can be arranged!” I yelled as she stalked off.
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