There was a PCC meeting this evening, but it’s also the night of the Gardening Club. I’d have rather gone to the latter, but duty called – however, Al and Dilly were going so needed a babysitter. I volunteered Ro, which was not very bright, as he’s away on a business trip and I hadn’t actually checked when to expect him back.
In the event, the Sage missed the PCC meeting, which he didn’t mind at all.
I returned from the town at lunchtime to find a note saying that he was babysitting Pugsley. When I’d eaten, I went to say hello, and give him a break. Later, the Sage returned and took over again.
Tonight, Dilly asked if I’d changed Pugsley’s nappy. I said I had. “Ah”, she said. “*The Sage* said his nappy had been changed – I didn’t think that necessarily meant he had done the changing…”
Actually, he did his share of babycare when ours were little. He was splendid with nappies and even better on night-time illness duty.
He cheered me yet again this afternoon, coming in with a copy of the Sunday paper (the newsagent had sent ours back as we hadn’t picked it up on Sunday morning). He had asked Jack, who delivers the papers, who else in the village takes it – three people had it delivered, one couple are friends, and they had finished with it but not yet put it in the bin. Splendid.
To change the subject completely, this end of January holds a few anniversaries. I won’t say the actual days as I choose not to mark unhappy dates, but this week it’s 38 years since my father died and 21 years since my stepfather died.
And, going from pathos to bathos, as Dave elegantly put it, my second blog-anniversary fast approaches. I can’t quite be bothered to look up the date of that, but it’s in a few days. Marvellous.