At the weekend......

So....we had a weekend of wildness without the Boy....well, wild as only we can.

It started on Friday with chips after work. Not just any old chip, oh no. Crispy on the outside, fluffy on the inside, perfectly salted chips.....provided ,for a small fee, by a local eating establishment. On returning home, I found the kitchen in a state of happy disarray.

As mentioned, M has been painting the kitchen, in lieu of re-doing the kitchen which we can't afford. Naturally, shelves have had to be cleared and cupboards emptied. Since the Boy was away, the contents of said cupboards and shelves were in piles on the table and worktops. Had the Boy been here, these things would soon have become a challenge, playthings, items to be thrown but as the Boy was not here, they were merely piles, innocent piles of kitchen essentials and/or detritus.

We left the kitchen thus.

Saturday saw us in a local supermarket, enjoying a sumptuous breakfast of bacon rolls in their niche cafe. We joined the other silver-haired breakfast eaters, although M wasn't wearing mustard cord trousers and I no gilet.

We then drove to visit one of our offspring on her narrow boat home. We had a most enjoyable day of sunshine, walks and tea....and we were still home in time to watch an entire episode of 'Vera'. Normally,  we are only able to watch part of an episode, and that on mute with subtitles so that the Boy is not rendered anxious.

Sunday dawned. M painted a second coat on those areas which required them in the kitchen then we drove to London to visit the youngest of our brood. We braved the public transport system, heading for the delights of Kew. I embarassed myself only twice..once as I tripped up a set of concrete stairs,  landing on my knees and grazing my hand and on the second occasion as I burst into song,albeit muted, at the sight of the words Underground and Overground in close proximity. The song was ,of course, that well known popular ditty sung by Bernard Cribbins concerning Wombles.

On arriving at Kew, the queue (yes, it was a Kewqueue)almost deterred us..but we are made of sterner stuff and queued as only Brits can. We even fended off potential queue jumpers. Politely, of course, without words but with stern looks and Britishness.

The gardens themselves were a delight,  the cafes full, the art installations stunning,the weather generally kind and the day declared a success.

Today, Monday, will require kitchen reassemblage but I can say that we packed in as much as two ageing, exhausted carers can in our weekend of respite.

Huzzah.

The End