Day 112

Level 2 Chi Kung.

An exhausting day. A few weeks ago, Katie’s school announced that Friday the 3rd would be Roald Dahl day and the children should come dressed as their favourite Roald Dahl character. Katie announced that, because Roald Dahl wrote a biography called Boy (I’ve read at least the first volume – it’s great) then Roald Dahl himself could be considered a Roald Dahl character, and that’s who she wanted to go as. I was delighted – both by her clever lateral approach and because dressing her as the young Dahl would be dead simple – some of Dashi’s outgrown clothes and a cap would be all that would be required. Unfortunately, she decided last night that she wanted to go as a witch instead. I suggested black leggings, a black t-shirt and a witch’s hat but no, she insisted that it had to be a black dress. So there I was today, wandering disconsolately around Lewisham, trying to find a suitably witch-like dress, and sure that whatever I came up with would be met, depending on mood, either by total rejection or by Katie’s trademark ‘polite disappointment’. I eventually settled on a loose black dress with a small cat motif, which I thought Kate would like and had the advantage that it was both inexpensive and had the possibility of future wearability.

Having secured the dress, the next unavoidable task on the list was dog bathing. Sherlock’s grubbiness (particularly about the nether parts) had got to the point where I was too embarrassed to take him on the school run this morning – a decision which elicited much whimpering on his part as we left without him. The bath took ages and Sherlock was stoical, if not exactly cooperative. Given the site of the area most in need of cleaning, it would have been helpful if he could have been persuaded to sit down in the water, but he clearly regarded that as a bridge too far. Once rinsed and out of the water, he was desperate to shake, and did this while still sat on my lap, with predictable results.

By the time I had taken a hot shower and boil-washed my clothes, Dash was home and it was time to collect Katie from film club. Got home and showed Katie the witch-dress: polite disappointment. Just enough time to get some dinner into Katie before we had to leave for trampolining. It was her second time, and the first time I had taken her, so I was surprised to discover that none of the trainers spoke English. I assume that they must speak enough to convey things like ‘run’, ‘jump’, ‘stretch’, ‘wait’ to the children, but they certainly couldn’t get ‘Who do I pay?’ or ‘Can I have a copy of the registration forms please?’. They eventually said ‘website’ but didn’t offer anything as straightforward as an actual web address. Hey ho – no doubt a google search will eventually track them down. If not, as they seem to accept anyone who shows up, with no checks as to who has registered or paid, I guess Katie could just keep going for free!

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