Single Handed

My other half has gone away with her Mum and our eldest daughter to the Lake District this weekend – the hilly bit of England in the top left corner, that borders Scotland. Famous as the home of Beatrix Potter, the inspiration for Wordsworth, and also the place where Donald Campbell met his end in Bluebird all those years ago (I’ve walked the length of Conniston Water – it’s impressively unsettling).

This leaves me here to hold the fort, which really just becomes a long list of things to do, and chores to complete. Yesterday evening I returned from a work site just in time to make the girls something to eat for dinner, before heading out to a firework display. First thing this morning we were up and out of bed to attend two back-to-back football matches – they both play for the town teams. Tonight I’m racing to get the washing through the machine and dried in time for School on Monday. Oh – and after my other half returns on Monday night, I’ll be getting up at the crack of dawn the next day to travel to the other end of the country myself with work. Fun times.

I think the mad panic today is more or less over. The washing machine and tumble dryer are rumbling away in the background, the girls are upstairs playing on the Wii U (having been bribed into tidying their rooms, and having a bath each), and I’m finally chilling out in front of the computer. I just need to make sure they have school clothes for Monday morning now. I can do this!

It’s ridiculous really – I’ve worked like a trojan all day to give myself a few hours of “me” time, and now I’m too tired to take advantage of it.

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