Alls well that ends well its the bit in the middle thats the problem

I knew things were going to be difficult today when I stopped at the traffic lights when they were on green, and ignoring the honking horns behind me, waited until they turned red, started to set off then stopped (luckily) and realised what a pillock I had been. Well it was 7.10am, and I was in Stockport, and I had just dropped Mrs BW and the Munch off at Stepping Hill. The Munch had to have a minor operation, which went well I am glad to say. So maybe I was not at my best. Things got worse. Back in time to make sure that the Weasel got up for school, she told me just as she was going that she needed a check for her dinner card. After we had gone through the usual ritual of me shouting “why the hell didn’t you tell me earlier” and she replying that “if you were a caring dad you would remember without having to be told!” she asked me if I could possible make it legible this time. Apparently no one could read the details last time and it caused problems in Admin and the Weasel was embarrassed by it.

Then of course there was work. I started with two things that I absolutely had to do no matter what happened and by lunchtime the list was up to seven and I was drowning not waving.

Back to Stockport to collect the Munch and Mrs BW. Twenty five minutes cruising the Stepping Hill car park to find a space. And it was hot and the car heating which in winter puts out a luke warm sort of heat was blowing out heat that it would have melted steel,and stayed the same no matter what setting I put it on.

Back at Birdwatcher terraces Mrs BW set up her Hammock, the Munch had to be gently told that no he could not go out to play as he had just had an operation and he really ought to rest, and I went back to the list of things that I absolutley had to do today. It was up to eleven.

Much later in the Goyt I sat on the bench overlooking the resevoir, watched a couple of curlews glide down from their nesting grounds to feed somewhere below me. It was a perfect evening, warm and the air filled with the scent of pines and grasses. Stockport seemed a long way away.

10 thoughts on “Alls well that ends well its the bit in the middle thats the problem

  1. Hope The Munch is recovering well. BW, you definitlely aren’t a Thatcherite! Maybe, however, just once in a while, you should be – and ask “what’s in it for me?” Bit of BW time is called for. I know that’s what the Goyt’s for but….. Are you ever allowed a day off as a dad?

  2. Reg – I play rugby and go to the pub afterwards, which is good enough for me. I have just realised that I spelled cheque, check, it really must have been a stressful day. Hope things are improving with you.

  3. Ah, kids who emotionally blackmail you – there’s gratitude! Yeah, take a day (or, better, a weekend) off and they’ll appreciate you more when you get back.

  4. In the US, cheque is spelled ‘check’, so you are reprieved from this side of the Atlantic at any rate. Great blog. I’m a sporadic latecomer to the joys of sitting quietly waiting for something to fly close by or above my head, but there’s nothing that unwinds me better. I envy you your bench above the reservoir (and I’m sure Stockport is very nice too).

  5. SAHIP – Welcome to my blog. Thanks for the kind words about my spelling, pure luck that it happens to be acceptable in the US, I am a rotten speller.Good luck with the birdwatching, they are funny things and totally unpredicatable, tonight for instance we saw very little. I guess they were all having a Siesta. There is nothing good to say about Stockport I’m afraid.

  6. I do that, except I slow down almost to a crawl at green lights. It’s called being one day closer to death. In a senior moment several years ago and with a car laden with children, I turned right out of the local bowling alley. Not unusual except that it was onto a dual carriageway. It was at that point I wished that I had had a miss-spent youth and knew how to do handbrake turns.

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