Z is sensible. No, really, I am.

It rained again, so Dave didn’t come over and I went to Norwich instead. Weeza wants to buy a sewing machine and we went to inspect a couple of models she’s likely to choose between and then we had lunch together. The sun came out for a couple of hours, but then there was another hard rain shower – I was driving along the dual carriageway at the time and all the cars had to slow right down as the visibility was so poor.

In other news … no, that’s about it. I’m doing some serious unwinding at present. I feel a bit mean actually, though only a bit. The church runs a holiday club during the summer holidays for a week, starting today – there’s a paid youth worker and several volunteers to help. The youth worker developed flu a couple of weeks ago and won’t be taking part so they’re quite short of helpers. I haven’t offered. Indeed, I’ve said I’m sorry but I’m not offering to help. I thought about it and decided it was just too much, I needed a break and I’m taking one. It would mean a whole week I wouldn’t be able to do any bricklaying – true, Dave and the Sage could get on without me, but I realise that I’ve been banking on taking several weeks off from most of my usual out-of-family obligations and the thought of gearing myself up to doing whatever Bible-based activities are planned (not my cup of tea anyway) is not at all tempting, even to help out really lovely people, most of whom are friends of mine. Furthermore, of course, once you’ve taken part once, it is a given that you will be heavily involved forever. And the next thing is that I’d be asked to help with the weekly youth club. I can’t take on a single more thing and that’s that. I don’t know if I’m being unreasonable, but I’m being self-protective and sensible, albeit with a mildly guilty conscience.

6 comments on “Z is sensible. No, really, I am.

  1. Dave

    I will drive past the church with my eyes averted and wax in my ears today, lest the excitement of a holiday club lures me with its siren-song.

  2. Z

    More like the Fat Owl of the Remove, Dand, I’m afraid.

    Belated welcome to you, Planetcity, and to Marion too.

    It was the despairing wails of the few remaining volunteers I think, Dave. Dave? DAVE! YOU CAN TAKE THE WAX OUT OF YOUR EARS NOW.


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