Yes, I’m sorry you’re getting so many posts. I can quite see that those of you with time on your hands will consider it a bonus, but anyone who dips into blogs once in a while will probably never catch up. You won’t miss anything, just mark them all read and relax.
I’ve been thinking, as I waited for the kettle to boil – oh,hang on, Tilly is asking me to finish my breakfast.
Right, she’s eaten the last of my yoghurt so I’m back. Where was I? Okay…
I was thinking, while waiting for the kettle to boil, about punctuality. I referred in a comment to first babies generally being late, while subsequent ones often (this is the only reference to childbirth in this post, this has not become a parturition blog – ooh, actually, I’ve just thought of a name for a new blog if I ever abandon this one) arrive when they are expected, if rarely on the precise due day.
You might not think it to look at me, but I am generally punctual. I am always on time for appointments and lunch and give a polite ten to twenty-five minutes leeway for dinner. If I’m going to be half an hour or more late home, I phone; if I’ve said what time to expect me, that is. In other respects I’m pretty casual (I add hastily, in case you’re thinking ‘but this doesn’t sound like the Z we have come to know’) and have little awareness of my own time once I start reading, which is the reason I go to bed so late.
Among friends and acquaintances, one gets to know who will be early, punctual and late and expects them accordingly, which is fine. I found it very disconcerting, when first married, that my mother-in-law was always early when I asked her and Pa round for a meal, when I was never ready, having expected a more sophisticated later arrival. Now, more relaxed, when someone turns up before I’m ready I get them to lay the table or open the booze, as one does. If you offer, I’ll say ‘yes’. Watch out, or you’ll find yourself digging potatoes.
No, what always catches me out is when I get a phone call. “Would it be convenient for me to pop round Right Now?” I say it would. I expect that person in the time it takes to put on a coat, get in the car, on the bike or Shanks’ Pony and get here. But it never happens. I may cool my heels, unable to get on with anything as I’m expecting a visitor any minute, for up to an hour.
The postman brought me a Present this morning. Thank you, darling Badgerdaddy xxx. I shall write as soon as I’ve listened.