What happened to Saturday’s blogpost.

 Well, yesterday didn’t quite go according to plan. It’s not that there is always a plan for the day but yesterday when I came back from my run, I had decided that after breakfast and after loading the washing machine, I would catch the bus to the local small Tesco, quickly pick up a couple of things, and catch the next bus back in time to listen to the lunchtime news, write my blog and then persuade Phil to go for a longish walk as Friday’s very hot weather had morphed into Saturday’s fine and warm but not too hot conditions. 

I was in the supermarket when my daughter phoned me: could she drop Grandson Number Two at our house while she and her partner went to do some sorting at a house they have been renting out but now want to sell. Granddaughter Number Two had already volunteered her services but Grandson Number Two was complaining that his older sister wouldn’t want to play dinosaurs with him. His seven year old sister, usually the ideal playmate for whatever imaginative games one or other of them comes up with, was going to play at a friend’s house. His 21 year old sister apparently won’t or doesn’t know how to play dinosaurs! Consequently Grandma, well known for her ability to get down at floor level and join in the game narrative (“You can be this dinosaur, Grandma. Your dinosaur does this… Your dinosaur says that…” and so on), supplied of course by the small boy, was the next port of call. 

As luck, or coincidence or serendipity would have it, the friend the seven year old was going to spend the afternoon with lived close to the supermarket. They could pick me up with my shopping. Suddenly my shopping list increased in length and I put into my trolley some heavier items which I would not have wanted to carry home on the bus.

Of course, I then had to wait outside the supermarket until my “I am just setting off now” daughter turned up. And so I arrived home a little later than planned, with a little more shopping than planned and with an unplanned small boy.

As I hung the washing out in the garden to dry, the small boy turned stones over to see what was beneath them - slugs, woodlice, a millipede (supposedly) and, the best find, a fat earthworm. All these were put into a plastic box and examined carefully. Actually, I suspect that the worm may have been lightly but unintentionally tortured, all in the interests of scientific investigation. 

We went indoors for a snack. The hands that had closely examined insect were thoroughly washed. We planned to make cakes but  “After we’ve played dinosaurs, Grandma!”. So we organised dinosaur adventures and built dinosaur homes and enclosures. Then we made cakes. We played dinosaurs some more. We iced cakes and added sprinkles. We did craft activities, cutting and sticking and making snakes. 

At some point I persuaded the small boy to eat something other than cake mix and then cakes.

Quite some time later his parents showed up, needing coffee and a chat. The seven year old, collected from her friend’s house, joined her small brother in craft activities. The afternoon turned into evening. Fortunately I had half of a Spanish tortilla in the fridge. So we removed the craft stuff from the table and replaced it with tortilla, salad, hummus and ham and such - an improvised family meal! 

Eventually somewhere close to 9.00pm the family set off for a quick evening stroll before taking the small home to bed. We were invited to accompany them but decided to stay home and tidy up instead. Some ten minutes later my phone rang once more: they had not got far on their stroll when the heavens opened and they had had to run for the car and were now heady home soaked to the skin! 

So it goes. And the blogpost never got written. 

Had it been written it would have included a bit of Michael Rosen’s “The King and his Tutor”:

'I've heard that some judges somewhere or another have said that we shouldn't be in the corner over there,' said the King to his tutor.

'Oh judges!' said the King's tutor, 'they'll say anything that they're paid to say.'

'It does bother me somewhat though,' said the King.

'It shouldn't,' said the tutor, 'remember that that corner over there is ours.'

'Is it?' said the King, 'I thought we were in that corner over there in order to keep us safe over here.'

'Yes,' said the tutor, 'it's what we said, but in fact, that corner over there has belonged to us for thousands of years.'

'Apart from the times when we weren't there, perhaps?' said the King.

"Good point,' said the tutor, 'we were indeed ejected from that corner over there some time or another a long, long time ago. That's why we're back in the corner over there.'

'Hmm, that sounds very good,' said the King, 'but I went there once and there were some people there who aren't our people.'

'Exactly,' said the tutor, 'and our job is to make sure that they aren't there.'

'How will we do that?' said the King.

'We have very good horses and carts,' said the tutor.

'And we put these people on the carts?' said the King.

'Exactly,' said the tutor.

'That's very good,' said the King, 'I thought you'd think of something. You always do.'

'Thank you, sir,' said the tutor.

And there would have been this photo of some crazy Americans putting plasters on their ears out of solidarity with their ‘hero’ Donald Trump!

The mind boggles!

Life goes on. Stay safe and well, everyone.