A year has passed and I don’t need to look back at old blog posts to know exactly what I was doing this time last year. April is my mum’s birthday and to celebrate, every year my mum, my sister, and I head off for the day to explore some old stately home or beautiful garden. We chat, we stroll, we drink tea, and we eat cake. A gift shop, a tearoom, a plant sale and a second-hand bookshop are essentials. We don’t get tapped or tugged, we don’t wipe any bottoms other than our own and we get to finish our sentences. It’s wonderful. So this time last year I know I was sat on a springy lawn surrounded by snake’s-head fritillaries, the sound of the sea in the distance, dressed in a short-sleeved dress.
A short-sleeved dress! Don’t make me laugh! That’s what my sister said. But I was. I have the photo to prove it. Not this year though: this being the year of not just one but two proper coverings of snow, and the threat of a third. The year of dead geraniums and new potatoes still waiting to go in the cold sodden ground. Don’t get me wrong, this year’s trip was lovely but there was no way I was taking my coat off as we sat on a bench in the orchard demolishing our sandwiches.
It’s another year of Finch too. Soon he will be four and heading off to school. News of his school place should arrive any day. In the last year, that boy has developed a stunning capacity to have an answer for everything. Why are you licking the wet bike shelter Finch? I was thirsty mum. Why have you flooded the bathroom Finch? The floor looked dirty mum. Why have you posted your train track down the back of the radiator so we’ll now have to take the radiator off the wall to get it out Finch? I was keeping it safe from Wren Mum. Why are you putting yoghurt up your nose Finch? Silence.
Why are you putting yoghurt up your nose Finch? I don’t know mum. I’ve made a bad choice haven’t I? Yes Finch, you have. To Finch’s future teachers, wherever you may be…make the most of your current relative tranquility because he’s coming!