The Next Right Thing*

Wednesday morning’s activities:

1.  Gym: kettlebell swings, lat pulldowns, chest weights, triceps and biceps, chest dumbells on ball, exercise bike.

2.  Three course breakfast: Shakshuka, salads, watermelon.

3.  Move some of the more-nearly-dry pairs of pants from the washing line above the bath to the sunny windowsill, so the wetter pairs can spread out a bit.

4.  Adidas shop with Mum to purchase matching tops for new gym shorts.  Now have: purple one, fluorescent orange one and black one with white paint drizzle pattern.

4.  Supermarket for more matzah, beetroot, baby cucumbers, blue cheese and Diet Coke.

5.  Gin, Sprite Zero and lemon at beach bar – photo attached.

6.  Think about Seb.  Send him message in my mind.  Don’t actually send message.  Mustn’t hassle him.  Miss him.  Think: if he really liked me he’d send me a message.  Wonder if this time apart has made him realise that he doesn’t like me anymore and…no must stop this.  Know that he needs his own space and so on.

“So,” I say to Mum as we walk through the port.  “Shall I leave Seb alone to get on with his work and…”

“Exactly,” Mum says.  “And you’d better rehearse what you’re going to say when we get home and you ask him how his dissertation’s going and he says ‘well I was going to start but…'”

“I’m not his Mum,” I say.  “I’m not going to nag him about his work.  It’s up to him to show me that he’s capable of doing this course.  I don’t have any expectations of his ability to study.  He’s never done any academic work before.”

“So how are you going to react when he says he hasn’t started it yet?”  Mum says as we cross the road.

“I’m not going to nag him,” I say.  “He’s the one who thinks he can do a degree after twenty years away from school.  Let’s see if he’s up to the demands of studying.  Look at that,” I say, as a chap cycles past with ten dogs of different sizes attached to him.

“That’s terrible,” Mum says.  “So dangerous.  Do you think the fluffy monster will be cross with us when we pick him up?”

“I don’t know,” I say.  “Hope not.”

Was enjoying a few moments of peace and quiet but the parentals have just descended on my peaceful sanctuary.  Have sent them away so can write this in peace.  Just want to be left alone.

Happy Wednesday lunchtime everyone!

*2012.  By Dan Bardem.  Hard-boiled detective novel about a recovering alcoholic.


3 thoughts on “The Next Right Thing*

  1. Studying after 20 years away sounds like a nightmare. I hope he has made a start though. I think I would struggle to hold neutral facial features if he said he hadn’t. Perhaps I would telephone first.

    Liked by 1 person

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