Its one of those Saturday’s. The Weasel was sixteen yesterday and she seems to have survived her late night out in Stockport. Outside there is the comforting sound of rain gently brushing the windows and the occasional sigh of wind.
8.45am Mrs BW leaves for the Uni for her all day course. I am now in charge. It starts to get complicated. The Munch has a riding lesson at 11.00am. Plenty of time, except that he needs to clean his hamster out. preferably before the riding lesson. He refuses, prefering instead to play on his PSP. I’m in charge so I say”okay but you’ll have to do it when you get back” and go downstairs for a coffee. I have also checked on the Weasel who is in bed but fast asleep.
9.30am I go back upstairs and warn the Munch that we have to leave at 10.30 as I have to pick up the third team shirts. He grunts something back at me. I repeat it again. “OKAY I HEARD YOU THE FIRST TIME” You old idiot. The last three words he would have liked to have said but he doesn’t because he knows, and more importantly he knows that I know, that at some point before 1.00pm, when I have to leave to go and play rugby, he will ask ” Dad can I have a fiver to go swimming?” So he restrains himself.
10.30am We are getting into the car and I am aware that the Munch though smartly attired in Jodpurs, boots and a rather cool top is missing something. ” Where’s that chest thingy that your’re mean’t to take” I ask. “What are you on about DAD?” “You know the one Mum says you must take with you. To stop you being crushed if the horse falls on you?” “I’m not going to be jumping in this” he replies and looks at the steadily falling rain. ” No? Well you ought to take it anyway, I say” “Okay” and off he stomps to get his chest thingy (Chest Protector) muttering dark and unpleasant things as he passes me.
11.30am And the Munch has had a really good lesson. He jumped really well, without the aid of his chest protector which apparently makes him look an idiot. He swigs from the can of Red Bull that I bought him. (Red Bull is on Mrs BW’s proscribed list)
Back at BW Towers there is no sign of any movement from the Weasel. I shout up that I am making lunch. Meanwhile the Munch starts to clean out his Hampster cage. ” Oh yeah Dad I’ll need a fiver from you to go swimming”.
12.30pm. “Whats this?” the Weasel sits on the edge of the sofa in her dressing gown clutching the plate of sausage and egg, lovingly squeezed into a bap, that I have just given her.
“Its lunch” I say.
“Its really greasy and I can’t eat greasy things in the morning.”
“Well what a good job its the afternoon then!” I snap back at her.
12.40pm I gather up the plates and head into the kitchen, the lecture about what not to do while I am up at the rugby club hangs in the air.
As I go into the kitchen I hear the Munch ask the Weasell, ” So have you got Chlamydia then? “I feel faint. She was only sixteen yesterday!
“No you idiot, what are you talking about.” I close the door and sigh.