I haven't really anything to write about. I seem to write more over the weekend, unlike many people who take the weekend off. And, although quite a lot has happened today, not much of it is bloggable.
I will have more precious sweet time from now on. Al says that Dilly is quite able to manage the children, most of the time, so he will go back to work. I was in the shop this afternoon as she blithely accepted an invitation to visit a friend in Norwich before remembering that she can't drive yet. And, even if she finds driving all right (she was told to avoid it for six weeks and is now a little over halfway there, but six weeks? Just what can one keep up for six weeks? Jeez) she still has two children to lift and strap into their car seats. So Al went with her.
Precious sweet time, I said. But it's still redundancy. Woe.
Well, not that much woe. I can do the housework tomorrow! Yay!! (Ooh, one more ! and I'll emulate JonnyB).
The shop was very busy today. Lots of happy children choosing pumpkins to carve for Hallowe'en. Children are just so endearing. Sure, they can be a pain, but there aren't many I don't like - they are, usually, so straightforward and responsive. There aren't many of them, unless, perhaps, those with particular handicaps or illnesses, who do not respond to the way they are treated. There was one little girl with both her parents. She made a great fuss of her father, maybe he works hard and is not often there during the day. The mother smiled, enjoying the happiness. Another girl was with Granny. She didn't want a bag for her pumpkin, she wanted to carry it proudly, for everyone to see. One young woman has three boys, the eldest about 8 and twins a couple of years younger. They are lovely children, who carry a basket round the shop and take turns to put things in it. Another mother was a bit impatient with her daughter in a pushchair. I was sorry for her and the little girl, as the older son was just so annoying. He went and looked at the back of the shop, where supplies are stored. Then he came by the counter and looked at me. Most children, I'd have greeted in a friendly way. But somehow, he gave me the creeps. Funny, isn't it. I ignored him.
Oh, Bananaman. He comes in for a few vegetables, sometimes a lemon, but always a banana. He annoys Al and all his staff. Mm (preening) - he likes me. I am entirely sympathetic to his wish to check every price several times and to add the bill in his head at the end, because you can't really trust an electronic till. Al asked if I felt insulted, that he doubts what I ask him to pay. Not really, it's his foible, he can't help it. "You're happy" said Bananaman. I agreed that I was. "I can tell," he said, "you're always smiling."
I come home and snarl, of course. You can only smile for so long.