It felt rather, well, boring at home today.
Not that Mr B is not always scintillating company, you understand, but I think
my heart was still in Gwillim Ward at St George’s Hospital, where the Middle of the Darling Daughters and her baby son were preparing to go home. They had to wait a bit because the Father of the Baby, one totally besotted man if ever there was
one, had insisted on having the car cleaned inside and out before his little Prince could be allowed to travel therein. Do you think someone should warn him about small people and cars?
On the evening of the day when Faris was born, the New Dad took Mr B and me out for a curry meal. He kept looking at his phone – not checking messages but gazing at the picture of his boy on the home screen. We told all
the waiters the news and he showed them the photo and answered all their questions. Normally he does not allow anything as diverting as conversation to get in the way of eating – but that evening was different.
In a few days I will be back on “Nanna Duty” so I need to be prepared. I need to wash sheets and find enough clean clothes to last me a week and make sure Mr B will manage without me. Oh, I’m not thinking
about the basics like food – Mr B will never starve. He is more than capable of cooking himself up a Dinner-for-One and, as for shopping, well, this man is Tesco's best friend. No, it’s the important things he will need my help with
- like having a few photos of Baby Faris to hand because everyone will want to see one, won’t they, and I won’t be there to help him out by delving into my capacious handbag to produce the goods. I’m writing him a list of all the places
we would have been going together next week to make sure he goes anyway. That way he’ll keep himself occupied (there’s only so many times you can go to Tescos) and can fill me in on all the gossip. Though, like most men (sweeping generalisation
coming up!) Mr B isn’t that good at gossip.
Still, as I say, it has felt a bit boring today, being away from all the action. It seems Young Faris agrees
with me, looking at his latest photo (I knew you’d want to see another one!) However it’s National Book Day and I can always rely on a good book to keep boredom at bay. At the moment I’m reading “Lincoln” by Doris Kearns
Goodwin, whom I met many years ago at a conference in Cincinnati, Ohio. Doris believes in good, hefty books – “Lincoln” runs to 880 pages of 10 point text. It's fascinating stuff - but I'm finding that it’s not the best book for
Instead I turn to “Wherever You Are”, the story of the Military Wives Choir, which the Youngest of the Darling Daughters gave me for
Christmas. I’ve been savouring it a chapter at a time since then on the basis that each and every story should be allowed its own space in my mind. Today (having shelved poor Lincoln for another day) I read Katherine Catchpole’s story. She writes:
“This time of our lives has fairy dust scattered over it.”
And I think of my “Extraordinary Eight” and whisper to myself: