Spent a busy afternoon getting ready for holiday, which mainly consisted of making my way through an extensive laundry pile, a tidy up, and some chores about town.
I picked up a couple of books for holiday reading, modern romance types that have been prizewinners. This was to follow Mum's advice re understanding the genre, and also because I genuinely needed something to read, Amazon having not yet delivered. Knowing my luck the Amazon books will come tomorrow and I will have too much to get through. I was struck by the bewildering choice and the tendency to judge books by the cover. Perhaps the bestsellers have more to do with the cover illustrator than the author.
The young man who rung up my purchases got half way through before asking me if I was looking forward to a fun weekend. I couldn't decide if he was being sarcastic. I bought two bras, a packet of croissants, six bottles of water, a packet of Werthers Originals, and a packet of Fruit sweets. The man behind me seemed likely to have a better weekend he had several half bottles of spirits and a bottle of Blossom Hill red wine. He didn't seem happy though, and was already slurring. Perhaps his selection denoted dependence rather than a party in the offing.
I sat in Mc Donalds with a drink to get a bit more writing done, but had backache and a cold coming on and allowed myself to be distracted. There was a family on the next table, mum, dad in football kit, and three children (8, 6, and 2 maybe). The kids were lively and loud, the little one weepy and needy. The mum looked tired. no one seemed to be enjoying the food, it was all looking a bit miserable. Then, Dad opened a sachet of sauce for the baby. He pushed it along the table, but it sailed off over the side, splashing on to the seat between the children and on to the floor. There was a second of silence, then the laughter rang out. That little bit of unintentional slapstick made him into their hero. The day was won. Dads are delicious.
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