The husband is “home alone” for eleven days. Mary has gone to Greece for her aunt’s funeral. Let’s keep a journal of how a man fares without the assistance or insistence of his lifetime helper. Will anything get done? How dirty will the house become? What will we eat?
Day one we spend a morning in bed reading, and then make a list of things to do before Mary jumps on the bus from our doorstep to Heathrow via Hammersmith. Immediately something uncharacteristic happens, and I strike up a long chat with a neighbour, ending in a promise to help install Ubuntu on a notebook. Well, semi-uncharacteristic. I dispatch the garden waste to the dump, and then traffic becomes so bad I give up on the planned trip to IKEA.
The Internet is down for maintenance. So distractions are reduced significantly in the twitter, chess and scrabble department. Soon it’s clear that there are no excuses or options, so out with the hedge cutters and soon it’s time for another trip to the dump, and a second failure to reach IKEA. Roadworks causing gridlock around Mortlake. Sainsbury’s for food and petrol, and back to cook dinner for Jo & Mark, (who find me unpacking, cooking, mopping at same time!) then choose music for The Wedding. (note documentary picture of post-culinary cleaning).
So far, quite busy, but with many jobs still unpicked on my list. Have not sat down today to ignore the world and soak up the wonderful book I’m (not?) reading, “Surprised By Hope” by Tom Wright.