It is the first thing Mr B asks me every morning. “What’s happening today?” Generally followed up, almost immediately by: “What’s for dinner?”
The degree of thoughtfulness in my answer depends mostly on how early it is in the morning. At 3.30 a.m. I am, surprisingly enough, completely unable to work out what day of the week it is, let alone what we will be doing
over the next 24 hours. Similarly with the What’s for Dinner? question - which I can only answer sensibly after we have had breakfast. All the dieticians tell us that it is unwise in the extreme to make decisions about food on an empty stomach. That’s
my excuse, and I’m sticking to it.
Unless it is Thursday, which is Sporting Memories day, the answer Mr B is seeking to his first question of the day is
“Absolutely nothing!” Mr B really, really likes those days when nothing is happening because it means I will be around all day, keeping him company rather than gadding about having coffee with various lovely friends or engaged in other leisure
pursuits. Obviously he makes an exception for the outings I have to make in order to satisfy his second question i.e. putting food on the table.
morning I had to break it to him gently that it was going to be a pretty full-on day. I had choir in the morning, a coffee break with a friend in the afternoon, with another friend coming for dinner in the evening. He took it pretty well, considering...
Don’t get me wrong - Mr B is very understanding of my need to be out and about. He is quick to crow (please excuse the awful pun) when I return from my monthly trip
out with the Birdy Group and have to admit that, no, I haven’t spotted a Golden Eagle. No matter how extensive the tally of birds I have actually seen, as related to him at great length, nothing but a Golden Eagle will persuade him that I am a successful
birder. When I return from my craft sessions, bearing aloft my latest creation, he always says: “Wow!” and never asks me what exactly it is that I have created, even when it isn’t particularly obvious.
When I set off for choir on a Friday morning, he always asks me to sing a song for him (though preferably not a Scottish one because he could never ever, when he was a choir member, get his tongue
round the words.) On Sunday mornings, when I head off to church, he asks me to say a prayer for him. Obviously I would be doing that anyway but he clearly feels I need reminding. These days his carer, the Delightful Donna, joins in, asking me to sing,
or say, one for her too. I’m happy to oblige one who does so much to support us.
There was, in fact, much he enjoyed about our busy day yesterday,
especially discussing the fortunes of Tottenham Hotspur under their new manager with my friend who I call “Spurs Sue” to differentiate her from several other friends of mine, all called Sue. He also took great pleasure in the fish and chip supper
I served up for our friend Arthur who arrived on our doorstep carrying the most enormous orchid, along with our very first Christmas card of 2019.
The thing is,
I have checked our diary between now and Christmas and, would you believe it, there appear to be only four days when I will be able to answer honestly that nothing is happening when Mr B asks me his daily question. So many people to see, so much to do,
so much fun to be had.
It’s the first of December tomorrow and, according to our diary, it’s beginning to look a lot like Christmas...