Well the plan to “spend some quality time with Piglet” over half term appears to have fallen flat.
Piglet is currently out with Granny, socialising with her friends as usual, while I do boring things like try to sell my flat and shell out dizzying sums of money for the privilege. In fact, much of half term has been spent staring into the likes of this,
the cold, dark abyss that is the remains of my old life, where I like to think I was some kind of Carrie Bradshaw figure, teetering around London drinking cocktails and wearing Jeffrey Campbells, shunted off into storage for the foreseeable future.
My mother has prophesied that I will not wear these for another five years, which seems to me to be an overly pessimistic ballpark figure for when I might regain some sort of social life in which I can wear the occasional heeled shoe. All I can say, ladies and gentlemen, is that I may need your prayers.
Other than that, there is very little to report, Piglet-wise, as most of his time is currently spent on train journeys to and from London, which he naturally enjoys, as he has to remain still and is not allowed to go racing down the carriage inspecting his fellow passengers, which would be his preferred activity on said journeys. In fact, last time he escaped and ran down the aisle I had to abandon the pushchair I was struggling with at the time to go and rescue him, leading to a farcical chain of events where the pushchair became trapped and started to be slowly crushed in the sliding doors at the end of the carriage, which for some unknown reason WOULD NOT STOP CLOSING despite the fact that there was clearly an item trapped in them, which bodes well for Piglet’s further adventures when he decides to investigate said doors with his little hands.
However, Piglet has now mastered another word. Well, I mean “mastered” in the loosest possible sense, as the word is “brruuu,” which appears to be a generic term for blueberries and other similar round-shaped fruits. This presumably means that I have slipped down one more rung in the pecking order, and am now the official third favourite thing, after balls and blueberries.
Then again, it’s hardly surprising given that I seem to spend most of my time with him either trapping him on trains or putting him in highchairs. One day, Piglet, one day we will roam free and go to soft play, or the park, or somewhere which doesn’t sell coffee or involve packing boxes.