The South London Food club had another meeting on Saturday. Each time, we choose a different nation, and everyone who comes along has to research and cook something from the chosen country. This time, the venue was Cuba – everyone made traditional Cuban food. Most of it was meat and most of which was quite spicy – so not my favourite, but we seem to have (by random selection) come up with the Philippines for the next destination
George has again seen fit to grow out of all his clothes, so Sunday saw another session of archiving his old clothes ready for the next nuclear device we plan to detonate in our lives - which we’re charmingly calling “baby 2”. We then spent the afternoon in Bromley buying cute little shirts.
Monday was a bank holiday – which I’d completely failed to take into account in my work plans. When you’re freelance, nobody tells you about things like bank holidays. They just tend to appear at random in your schedules.
Not that they’re a bad thing – I just never seem to see them coming.
This one was filled with the terribly traditional pursuit of DIY. Or rather what passes for DIY in an age when everything that doesn’t come with foolproof instructions is a job for a contracted in expert who earns £100 per hour…
My DIY was putting together the ikea cupboard that’s been blocking the bottom of our stairs for the last month or so. And I have to give credit where it’s due to the master cabinet-makers at Ikea because even though the process took the whole day, and even though I had several screws and (worryingly) two large pieces of wood left over at the end, I was able to put the cupboard together without problems.
Now this is impressive not because I’m rubbish at assembling cupboards (actually this is my 7th similar wardrobe – and two of them I’ve done twice), but because I had George helping me throughout by crawling on whatever I was trying to assemble, re-sorting all the various lengths of screws and eating the instructions.
It’s clear to me that Ikea instructions are written to be followed while a 10 month old baby is learning to walk on the same piece of floor.
I’m not that keen on DIY – even the very limited kind involved in putting cupboards together, and part of me wants to put that down to the fact that when I was young, my Dad could do anything practical very well indeed and his perfectionist approach meant that I was never really allowed to help – or at least anything I did had to be gone over again by him to make it right.
However, that’s not quite the whole story. In fact, I’m not scared of DIY – and I’ve painted my fair share of houses. I just, like the rest of my generation, can always find something else to do. I tend to think my free time is worth something, and if it’s worth more than it costs to get someone else to do my hoovering, painting or car maintenance then I’ll do it.
Is that being lazy? I’m not sure. I do still end up doing a fair bit of that kind of stuff, but not all the time, not every weekend.
Lisa managed to get home early enough to take George swimming on Tuesday. It was the last of the current session of swimming lessons and George spent most of the time underwater – which he seems to love.