Lying in bed pondering the fact that I am still full from yesterday’s lunch and having had no supper. Didn’t even make the cheese course. Today’s repeat dinner has been put back until this evening. Toast and a bit of grapefruit for brekkie methinks. All subject to approval from the assembled masses who are all also still in bed.
Gotta write out a birthday card for the heir. Momentous Christmas that was. THG went in to labour during the evening on Christmas Day. I had cooked lunch and subsequently fallen asleep on the sofa. When I woke up all the dishes had been washed, the house tidied and the process begun.
Not sure we got much kip that night. Spent it noting times of contractions on a piece of paper by the bed.
By breakfast it was time to take her in to the hospital maternity wing which was just down the road from us. The rest is history.
Had that piece of paper with timings in the drawer of the bedside table for years but it is now lost. Birrofashame but not a biggie.
…
Now downstairs the kitchen is a hive of activity but no sign of any offspring. This is very much in contrast to the time when they were kids, particularly on Christmas Day itself. We’ve never got out of the habit of getting up early since then. It isn’t particularly early I guess. 8.30. Who knows what time the household will surface.
Today will likely be a day of sport. Armchair sport. Gone are the days of rocking up for the annual President v Chairman’s XV at the rugby club with a bottle of port at half time and a few pints afterwards before walking home to a repeat Christmas dinner. Was always a great atmosphere in the clubhouse for that game. The rugby club moved to Nettleham a few years ago anyway. No longer a walk.