On Friday evening at about 10.10 the phone rang. I am old enough to dread late night (late for me) phone calls so I answered it tentatively. It was Elder Son.
'My train gets in at 11.20.'
'Did you get my message?'
'Oh right, well, the train gets in at 11.20.'
'... tomorrow morning? Or tomorrow evening?'
Elder Son had asked earlier in the week if there'd be a bed for him if he came down (he was going to the rugby in Cardiff on Saturday with friends) and I'd replied yes but hadn't heard from him so assumed he was staying in Cardiff. I really should learn not to make assumptions where my children are concerned.
Husband had already gone to bed while I'd stayed up late (10.00 pm) to watch Not Going Out so I tiptoed upstairs to tell him.
'Does he want us to pick him up?'
'I said I would.'
'Do you want me to?'
'No, it's all right; I'll do it.'
'Are you sure?'
'Yes,' I shrugged nobly. So he turned over and went to sleep. And I went back downstairs muttering to myself, 'He was supposed to insist.'
Not the best game of rugby (Wales v South Africa) but finally the right result. And Husband volunteered to pick him up when Elder Son rang later in the evening to say he was on the train back to Swansea. (after being put right by me, 'You should have insisted,' and by Younger Son's shock, 'You didn't let Mum go to the station on her own at that time of night, did you?')
This morning it was back to the station again for Husband and Elder Son and then home to continue to prepare for the arrival of Daughter and family and the start of their live-in. Husband's main job was to repair the sparkly downstairs toilet seat. This involved taking it apart and scrubbing it - in my washing-up bowl.
Elder Son remarked that daughter-in-law would have had a fit if he'd done that at home. I shrugged again. I have become immune both to Husband's actions and germs.
But I will buy a new washing-up bowl. Today.