What on earth happened to the weekend? It feels like I only walked out of work an hour ago. Of course that ignores the hours spent washing clothes, washing dishes, grocery shopping, tidying up endlessly, and all the other things that go on every weekend. It also ignores a visit to the local cricket ground this morning to see our youngest daughter receive a trophy from her coach to celebrate the end of another season – and my in-laws arriving this afternoon for roast dinner. Quite why we were eating roast dinner in perhaps the hottest, most humid day of the year is another question.
Board games seem to have taken over the evenings throughout the weekend. Last night we dug out a rarely played box containing “Lord of the Rings Risk”, and all played late into the night. I don’t think anybody was clearly winning, and in the end hostilities were ended because it was past everybody’s bedtimes. This evening the kids discovered a box containing the original “Risk” board game – I gather from the shouting and giggling in the lounge that my other half momentarily took control of Europe, but didn’t factor in Miss 13 cashing in everything to amass an army the size of which had not been seen since the Crusades. I think bedtime intervened before the massacre happened.
Just for the record, I’ve tried to write this post three times over the last four hours. Each time, I’ve been called away to do something for somebody. Twenty minutes ago it was to make supper for one of our children – when I walked into the kitchen (that I had cleared up an hour ago), I discovered a sink full of washing that had apparently materialised out of nowhere. That happens to me a lot.
I often imagine other people have exciting, fun lives, judging by the photos you see splashed across Facebook, but then I remember that all you get to see on Facebook is the highlight reel. You don’t see any mention of the less favourable antics you know about that very few others do. I seem to have become the keeper of endless secrets – I’ve lost count of the number of people that have confided in me over the years. In some ways I’m quite glad my life so boring – so ordinary. The endless photos of railway platforms, board games, and days out to museums with the kids are perhaps a testament to the things we find value in – which are often at odds with a lot of the people we know, who wouldn’t dream of sharing anything unless it might be something other’s can’t easily do. “Who can piss the highest”.
I have a few hours of the weekend left. With a little luck I’ll be left alone, and afforded the chance to catch up with distant friends – to read about their adventures, with the hope they are a little more exciting than my own.