I had a busy weekend. Friday night G and I went to babysit for my nephew. He was on good form and we played Hungry Hippos for a while and then had to convince him to go to bed. As G pointed out to me “it’s not a negotiation” – what a good job we saw Supernanny on TV recently.
G got a bit annoyed with me in the evening because my sister has three cats one of which wandered into the bedroom. I told G to just pick it up and take it out of the room at which point I found out that G had never picked up a cat and has no wish to do so. We did remove the cat from the room eventually
On Saturday morning, the bedroom door opened and I looked over to find my nephew lying on the floor with his head sticking round the door. He then wandered in and hopped into bed. Let’s just say he did more than talk and it was a good job neither G or I were smoking in bed or there may have been a small fire based on my nephew’s emissions.
On Saturday night I went to Burn's supper. I couldn't bring myself to eat the Haggis. It brought back so many memories of eating vegetarian haggis last year and then being really sick all the next day. Just the smell of it made my stomach turn. It was a really nice evening apart from that.
On the way home on Saturday, we were on a bus and I stood up to give an old lady my seat. She took it but then told me a couple of times how guilty she felt that I now had to stand. I told her it was fine (which it was). I did later admit to G all the times when I haven’t always been quite so nice, including when I was a teenager when I failed to speak up in time to tell a blind woman she was about to walk into the side a of a bus shelter. It was one of those moments when you knew you should say something but can’t quite compose yourself quick enough to get the right message across. I still feel a bit ashamed about that even now. There are more such stories, but perhaps it is best to leave it there. *Hangs head in shame*
London’s Alleys – Gunthorpe Street, E1
19 hours ago