TUESDAY
The sun is shining, so I head outside with a large cup of coffee and the laptop, leaving the children busy and contained on the other side of the back door. I call out to explain where I’m going. Usually they don’t listen when I talk, but today there’s a group ‘wait, what?’
Now, this is an expression I've come to terms with over the past six weeks, but I firmly believe 'wait, what?' is one of the most irritating teen-phrases in current usage - though there are a few contenders.
I give my customary hilarious response, which is to freeze and ask what I’m supposed to be waiting for. This drives them all bonkers, particularly the 15-year-old and the 12-year-old.
I just make my own entertainment wherever I can.
Just half an hour of non-child time is all I want. Half an hour where no-one asks me a question, shouts in my ear or peers over my shoulder while I’m working - then comments on what I’ve just written.
Satchmo heads into the garden with me. Normally this is fine, but today he’s clearly sulking. I’ve imposed a strict 'no tit-bits' rule for seven days, to see whether it makes a difference to his waistline. He’s not impressed, and curls up at the opposite end of the garden, facing the other way.
Over the next ten minutes, the children also emerge one by one, each with a spurious reason not to be inside working.
Finally Bertie-Wooster appears, and starts feebly digging in the flower-bed to find the perfect spot for his morning deposit.
I snap the laptop shut, and head back indoors for some peace and quiet.
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