Monday evening

Tonight it was my turn to put the children to bed, while my wife went out climbing. Although I fell asleep with La Serpiente cuddled up to me, I woke half an hour later to find Destroyer was still awake and mauling my left arm. Groggily, I tried to get her to sleep, eventually fleeing under the excuse that I needed to blow my nose. "There’s tissues in here" Destroyer murmured as I left.
But she stayed in bed and didn’t follow me, and so I got to concentrate on hanging up laundry, clearing toys from the floor and trying to tidy the sideboard. Our sideboard, a masterpiece of IKEA, is divided into 16 equal squares, of which I managed to tidy one-sixteenth.

That done, I dined on cheesy puffs (the finest Marks & Spencer can produce) and did a bit of practice for standing on my head: feet up on top of the sofa, hands on the floor, trying to get my bum as high as possible in the air. I don’t think I want to be attempting an actual headstand while my wife is out the house, in case she comes back to a broken me.

When she did come back, it was time to put the MotoGP on, to watch a race where I had the result spoiled earlier this afternoon. Oh well, the Internet giveth, the Internet taketh away.

Did I mention that my shoulders feel brutalised? I guess climbing every day from Wednesday to Sunday, with a one day break where I went swimming instead, is going to tire me out a little bit…

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