Shame our local rag is so lax on proof-reading, but it gives the gist.
Sounds all well and fine, doesn’t it? Um, ‘cept this annual malarkey takes place in the Irish Sea, where it's so bloomin’ freezing, even the hardiest amongst them grease up in a ton of lard before attempting any leap.
Beccy ‘phoned, pleading with me to over-rule her teacher’s concerns, and grant permission she could participate. Her teacher’s are far from daft, they know from experience, with her being little less than just a rickle of bone covered over by skin, she had slim to nil chance of completing this without befriending hypothermia.
But, like I told them, she needs to live and learn for herself.
Anyways, medics were present, and they did lay on a kayak to follow closely behind. True, she did come in an hour behind everyone else (towards the end a headwind sprung up, blowing her further out at sea), but still she'd stubbornly refused to climb out until finished.
After the first five minutes, her body was so numb, she actually claimed it felt warm – it wasn’t until she reached the shoreline and to rapturous applause, that her legs then buckled from under her.
“It was weird, people kept talking to me, but I couldn’t process anything they were saying..”
Carried to a nearby house, a long soak in a tepid bath gradually put her back to rights again. She tells me she can’t wait to do it again next year (I’ve always said what doesn’t kill you, makes you stronger)..!
I don’t know why, but whenever "stuff" happens around here, seems hubby is always off and away on his week in London. It’s certainly been pretty eventful since my return back from the mainland. On Tuesday I packed Sam off to college with his luggage. He’d (very reluctantly) agreed to join his special needs group for several sleep over’s, at an outdoor adventure centre to the north of the island.
As Sam has never been away from either Alan or myself for any length of time, we felt it would be good to encourage him to go.
Now don’t get me wrong, I think it’s commendable for their group of carer’s to take folks like Sam off on something this bold – I mean, teaching archery, abseiling and canoe-ing must prove a quite thrilling challenge to say the least (no, no, I am not hysterically laughing here, honest Guv’)! It’s bound to bolster the kids’ confidence, not to mention coax a newly, freshly-found independence along the way (assuming they survive killing either themselves, or each other along the way).
Me? I’d be a gibbering wreck supervising this bunch, but hey, they are in good enough hands (let's hear it for the enthusiastic, the young and the naive, eh?).
Still, one good thing has already come out of it, Sam has finally learned how to use his mobile phone.
Constantly.
Continuously.
Frequently.
First time, I had no idea whom this lad on the line was, claiming me for his mum. See, I’ve not ever spoken to him over the phone before, and it sorta’ threw me at first. Thankfully, I don’t think he noticed, busy as he was telling me how he had bumped his head.
The second call (an hour later) was to tell me about the spat he and his best mate had just had.
The third was to tell me it was okay, because they had made up again.
I forget what the fourth, fifth, and three-hundredth calls were regarding, but it concerned something around similar themes (smile)..
Yup, the phone has been ringing off the hook. I wasn’t sure if I could make it through to his collection on Thursday night, never mind Sam (but we did).
Wednesday morning I dropped Beccy at the airport, as she has taken off on a three week Far Eastern hockey tour with her school - I believe she is in Singapore as I type, well, one or other of those places, (shrug) it's hard to keep track..
As I drove my youngest, Abby, on to college, she informed me she had play rehearsals after school, and that she had organised a ride back home from the mother of a friend of hers. This cheered me considerably, since with only my eldest, Matt, at home, I anticipated a rare few, free hours (aside from Sam’s barrage of phone-call’s) of me time to savour for my own.
Oh, how stoopid I am to tempt fate!
Mid-afternoon, Matt, being the gourmet cook that he is, kindly offered to make us both up a pot of French Onion soup. Bliss! He makes a mean speciality of this, his is the best version in town.
Ten minutes later, he barrels back into the sitting room:
“Mum, please don’t worry, okay?..”
Now, I know from grim experience, anything he prefaces by a "Please don't worry", always gives me sound cause to panic.
“I think I’ve just sliced off the top of my finger in the blender..”
(Ya' think??)
Shit, shit, shit – NOOOOOOOOO!!!
It’s amazing how calm you can appear, whilst watching the life-blood of your child spurting out of him.
“Where’s the rest of your finger??”
“Left behind with the onions..”
Instructing him to elevate and compress his pinky, I dart through for a rummage, and yup, sure enough, there it is. Could have been a hell of a lot worse, at least there is no bone attached, he’s only severed off about a quarter of a centimeter or so. Dressing his wound as best I can, I speed us off to Accident and Emergency.
One tecnis shot, a professional dressing, a handful of pain-killers, and some four and a half hours later, we finally arrive back home to find a flashing red light on the answer-machine. Abby’s ride has left high and dry without her, and she’s now stranded. Can I come and fetch her home, please?
(Yeah sure, what the hell, it’s only another hour’s drive..)
I came back to find Matt tucking into a bowl of his freshly-made soup.
"Have you been using the whizzy-rounder, again?"
"No, why?"
(Huh?) And then it slowly dawns on me.
"Oh noooo - you didn't?? Pul-ease tell me you didn't still use the onions left there?"
No answer, just a grin.
(Ugh, disgusting boy..)
So yeah, like I say, it's been no rest for the wicked around these parts.
Hubby flew in on Thursday evening, picking Sam up a day early from the Adventure Centre, en route. It’s Sam’s birthday on Saturday, and he and his daddy flew out early this morning for Ireland, to watch the bike races (an obsession of Sam’s). It’s a birthday treat for him. Sam has enjoyed several early birthday treats thus far.. he took in a cake to share out at school, he took another one in to share out at college, a third birthday cake and candles followed this for his PHAB club friends, and naturally, he simply had to take one along to the Adventure Centre, too. Oh and yes, we’ll still be celebrating his birthday again on Monday, this time as a family, when he and his daddy return home.
I'd be all caked out if I were him.
Hey, just hang on for one cotton-pickin' minute here..
Hubby’s only been and gone and done it again, hasn’t he?
Abby has a ten day, Spanish school trip to fly out to at 6am on Sunday – sheesh, great! It looks like it's all over to me again, isn't it?
I'll need to wash and iron everything, shop for what she needs, change over her currency, and pack up all her belongings, before dropping her off, she still semi-comatose, and in full Zombie mode, at the airport by the crack of dawn.
Charmed, I'm sure, eh? Hmph.
(Mutter, mutter..)
