Tomorrow will be my last day in the office for a week or so. We’re headed away on Friday for a “rugby tour” with our middle daughter’s rugby team, and then next week I have the week off – the first holiday days I have used in some time.
The rugby tour will take us to a holiday park near Tewkesbury – between Worcester and Gloucester (pronounced “wooster”, and “gloster” for friends elsewhere in the world – don’t ask me why they are spelled the way they are). My Dad is originally from Gloucester – or rather, from a small village just outside Gloucester called Hucclecoat. If you look on a map, Hucclecoat has now been swallowed up by the city.
The last time I visited Gloucester was some years ago now – we had a project at work with a company near Hucclecoat working on future nuclear power development in the UK. I think the government has now pulled the plug on the entire project (or rather, the ministers that would need to sign the cheques didn’t dare, because of public perception of nuclear power). In some ways I’m glad the project never went anywhere, because surely the world has seen it’s fair share of nuclear disasters already ?
Anyway. I’m not going to launch into a thousand words about the short-sightedness of the capitalists that think nuclear power is a great idea. It’s tempting, believe me.
We leave for the rugby tour on Friday lunchtime. We’re leaving our eldest daughter to fend for herself for the weekend – for the first time. I’m sure she’ll be absolutely fine – we’re going to stock the fridge with ready meals, and the cupboard with snacks. I’m sure a weekend eating rubbish and watching Netflix uninterrupted is some sort of bliss for a teenage girl.
Anyway. It’s getting late, and I haven’t put the garbage out for collection yet. We don’t want a repeat of me running down the road after the refuse collection lorry in my boxer shorts tomorrow morning – and yes, that really has happened in the past – more than once.