Dot writes: I’m not sure whether it’s ironic or not that I went back to work the day after Mother’s Day. My sons, considerate to a tot, helped me to appreciate the tranquillity of my office by both acquiring disgusting colds. Hugh’s is mostly a cough. On Saturday it was a hacking, honking cough that made anyone who heard it exclaim “That’s a nasty cough!” by sheer reflex, rather as one says “ooof!” when punched in the stomach; on Sunday it developed into something rattly and phlegmy, and in the evening he coughed so hard he was sick (partly over me, as it happened). Meanwhile Frank took the night shift with a sniffy snotty wet congestion of his tiny nose that woke him up seemingly every five minutes. I came home early yesterday. I wanted to get back to my baby, who had never spent half as long apart from me in his whole life; but also I had a big headache.
For Ken, this was his first official day as a Stay at Home Dad. He demonstrated how excellent he is at it by making Scotch eggs (which were yummy). Hugh was with the childminder, so today is likely to be more frantic.
Being back at work was oddly…normal. But my poor old brain does feel a little rusty. Must get polishing.