Now I’ve got the attention of some anti-feminists after my last tirade, the temptation to make this post something equally incendiary is almost as large as their urge to educate me. Almost.
Frankly, I don’t have time to get into another argument. Today is the Monday after half term, and my list looks something like this. Believe me, these are the edited highlights. Imagine what’s been redacted.
1. Get kids to school, with assorted games kit, ballet stuff, book bags, instruments, music and ‘Sparkles’ (soft toy you get to keep overnight after being Special Helper, except when you’re Special Helper the day before half term in which case you get Sparkles all week and have to show her a good time plus photos).
2. Clean out chickens.
3. Think about catching three hens (Noggin-the-cockerel’s favourites) who are suffering a bit with Noggin’s amorous attentions, what with Spring springing and all that, and fitting jackets on them. Yes, that is a thing.
4. Put off catching hens until after coffee.
5. Feed sheep.
6. Make coffee. Talk to builder about what’s happening this week. Despair silently about ever being alone in a clean house again.
7. Let out aged cat, who is confused and has forgotten his way to the cat flap what with all the builders and noise.
8. Let aged cat back in.
9. Open writing spreadsheet.
10. Note that I still haven’t rewritten the middle section of the novel I’ve been meaning to for months, owing to porlockian builder.
11. Builder enters my study. Answer builder’s query.
12. Smile at Jane Ide’s ‘porlockian’ neologism. Again.
13. Wonder if all the people who have my poems are ever going to let me know if they like them.
14. Wonder if the people who have my script are going to like it. They don’t take as long as the poem people, so I don’t allow myself to wallow in angst about that one.
15. Remember I still have to catch three hens and fit their jackets.
16. Worry I’m going to forget to take son to appointment in the middle of the afternoon.
17. Wonder when I’m going to have some uninterrupted writing time.
So, if this blog were an aircraft (yes, I’ve been listening to John Finnemore’s Cabin Pressure almost non-stop since it arrived last week), this is a holding pattern while we wait for a clear runway. I can’t remember the last time I had a day off. I think this means I need one.
There is probably a perfect German word for having too many things to do after you catch a hen.