Reluctantly accepting my designated role

Today was a bit of a squeeze. Way back a few weeks ago, Kate had called to see if we could move the girls’ salon visits from next Saturday to today. I already had a scheduled Alton Talking Newspaper so we planned a work-around whereby I’d drop them off, walk back home then leave for the studio while she’d bring them home and drop them off with a key I’d give her.

Then, of course, I managed to get some strange virus (which I’m going to call Alfonso for reasons of clarity) which has left me a bit easily worn out. To say I wasn’t looking forward to the excessive amount of required walking would be a massive understatement. Still, must needs, I guess.

Then, poor suffering Mirinda, home and still a victim of The Cough, offered to drive me to Kate’s. I made sure she really meant it and it wasn’t just a decision brought on by bronchial delirium then accepted, happily.

Having left the girls in Kate’s capable scissor hands (when she reminded me about the door key, I told her she shouldn’t call me dorky) we went back home where I searched for the location of the strange dead smell of something rotting into oblivion somewhere at the fringes of the Garden of One Thousand Yaps. I filled lots of holes but of a corpse there was no sign. Hopefully I accidentally entombed it.

As the clocked ticked towards midday Mirinda further offered to drive me to the studio even after I explained that I’d have to go into town first to collect the newspapers. This offer didn’t take me quite so long to consider. We set off for the Hart to park and, while she sat and read, I wandered down the Lion and Lamb, passing out greetings to all and sundry.

Actually, I popped my head into the optician’s to compliment the receptionist on their new lay out. I do like being part of my community which is quite odd given my previous feelings towards ‘other people’. Maybe it’s an age thing.

Back to the car (after collecting my Starbucks of course) and off to the studio. It was with some surprise that, after almost ten years, this is the first time Mirinda has actually seen the building that houses the studio.

The session went incredibly well with lots of laughs and jollity mostly provided by ex-Vicar John and Lindsay. And, it seems, while John no longer commands a pulpit, he still does the rounds of dementia homes, spreading his own brand of peace and joy to the inmates. He’d been to one this morning and was leaving for another afterwards. This explained his wearing of a black shirt on an extremely warm day.

(The title of the post comes courtesy of John. It was his comment as he left the editing room for the kitchen, dirty tea cups in hand, preparing to wash them up. He refused to call it volunteering.)

On the way home I had a text from Kate saying she’d dropped the girls off but was concerned that they’d jump out of the open upstairs windows. She’d finished quite quickly and had arrived at the house before Mirinda returned from dropping me off. I assured her that they would be fine. I then texted her after arriving home to assure her there were no failed dog flying experiments.

Of course, the girls looked beautiful.

Freya and my blurry elbow(?). Emma and a lamb bone on the terrace.

Mind you, Mirinda always prefers the ‘before’ to the ‘after’ but she’s voted down because most of us prefer the results of Kate’s grooming skills in preference to the over-heated, seed attracting, curly, panting messes they were.

Emma the beautiful

Meanwhile, health-wise, Alfonso continues to leave me tired following any kind of physical exertion. Damn him!

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