My legs were throbbing that much last night that they kept me awake for a while. Perhaps I’ve overdone it a bit. I’m in the car today anyway and can finally get something to feed the troops with.
Today is A Level results day. L is stressed naturally, mentions Daughter and Paracetamol in the same sentence several times and says her head is about to burst. I wasn’t stressed until it gets to lunchtime and still no results have filtered through. Son isn’t even here; he’s in Cornwall and has had to write a letter agreeing for someone else to collect his results. He’s Mr unbothered and over confident anyway. He’s doesn’t do as well as he might have done, due to being Mr unbothered and over confident, but he still bags his intended university place. Daughter, Ms very bothered and not at all confident, passes everything, mostly with ease, and still isn’t happy. There’s no pleasing some people. When I point at that her results are far better than mine I get a lecture on the fact that A Levels are so much easier these days... she reads too many of those newspapers she delivers.
The weather puts paid to any planned flirtations with tennis, thankfully, so it’s squash again this week. For once I really enjoy it. Three titanic and close games, then level at 3-3 in the 4th. I lose 2-1 but it could have gone either way. Then I come home with a bad back to add to the injury list. I must have sat funny in the pub.
I get home and L is trying out the new hoover in Son’s bedroom. She’s been soooo looking forward to trying it out. Which is kind of sad... I’m surprised it didn’t take one look at Son’s bedroom and expire like the last one did.
(Thursday 19th August)
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