It was hard to tear myself away from the family tonight; slightly sick on the same thing that’s afflicted the kids, and tired after a day at work, and wishing I could just sit by La Serpiente’s bed while she hugged my forearm and tried to pretend to go to sleep.
Still, the trip to the airport was a breeze, as it always is, and although it takes time to get checked in to a BA flight out of Changi if you’re not one of the gilded few, I was soon sat outside the gate, checking emails and all the other fun stuff that you can do in an airport at ten p.m.
Well, checking emails, mostly.
Continue reading “En route”
I stayed up late last night when I should have slept, and woke with my reserves of self-control and patience much depleted. The kids were inexplicably moody today, La Serpiente delighting in yelling at her top of her voice and making Destroyer cry. La Serpiente demanded broccoli casserole for dinner and then wouldn’t eat it, asked to go outside and then clamoured to go straight back in, and Destroyer wept at practically everything.
Maybe they’re just trying to ensure I don’t miss them too much when I’m away next week.
Continue reading “Broken day”
Last night we stayed up until 3am, bingeing on television, which meant I missed this morning’s parkrun and felt groggy as hell. Instead, we went out for waffles at a breakfast place that had come highly recommended by one of our fellow salsa dancers. Students. Animated dancing bears. Whatever.
The cafe was about fifteen minute’s walk from our place, and we got there about 9:30, shortly after it opened, and an hour and a half after I woke up and first wanted something to eat. Either they were short on staff today or they’re just short on staff: one woman was having to bring out menus, take orders, serve the food up and make all the coffees, and even though there weren’t more than ten people in the cafe when we arrived, it took ages for anything to arrive, and it was half an hour before we got any butter to put on La Serpiente’s toast. The scrambled eggs I had were good, but not a patch on Ronin (but then what ever is?) and my wife’s waffle was cold, as though it had been produced some time ago rather than being something produced fresh and delicious this morning.
On the other hand, La Serpiente had an enormous babycino, sprinkled with minature marshmallows. It’s a shame that she doesn’t like marshmallows, and we’ve been accustomed to free babycinos and not paying $3 a time for them, which is pretty steep for a shot of steamed milk. Ah well.
Continue reading “Consistency and disappointment”
Tonight we had another salsa lesson. I now know that I dance like a robot. A robot with no ability to move its arms.
Continue reading “Salsa with that”
Today I must have reached peak beard, that point at which your phizzog is just too hairy for you to cope with any more. I got my clippers off the shelf, adjusted the guard to 1 ¼ inches, and shaved a fist-sized lump of wiry black hair off my face and into the sink.
Continue reading “A close shave”
Tonight after work the office went out for laser tag, which involves running around like idiots in a darkened space for half an hour, shooting one another with electronic guns that made whooshing noises.
Continue reading “Laser Tag”
I worked idiotically late tonight, only getting home about 8:30. Things were not good at home; La Serpiente was lying on her bed, shouting at her mother that she was lonely, and Destroyer wasn’t settling down to sleep either. Filled with guilt, I went into La Serpiente’s room and shut the door. She rolled over and tried to get me to put feet on the bed, bum on the head (clearly she was getting a bit tired too) and then pointed out, in quite her saddest voice, that she had “made room for you”, pressing herself to the wall of the bedroom so there would be space for me to lie next to her.
That, combined with getting off the bed and bringing her pillow over “because I want to be with you” meant I had real trouble getting her to sleep. If I wasn’t close to bursting into tears at being so late home, I was going mental trying to figure out how to tell her not to scrape the plaster off the wall. What a night.
Continue reading “Late home, late to bed”