Friday: looked after GrandSon4.
Saturday: took GrandDaughter1 shopping.
Sunday: took Grandchildren on bus and to raft race followed by barbecue at home.
Monday: cleaned lounge.
When George was unwell at some point we let him come in the lounge again. He's currently moulting as if it's summer. Our once green carpet appears grey.
What a life I lead.
I intended to take the children on the Bay Rider land train to Mumbles yesterday. Husband was fussing. He said, 'It's the raft race, everything will be very busy. Do you have an alternative plan if the train is full?'
I sighed but to keep him happy decided to catch the first train of the day at 10.30. We arrived at Blackpill at 10.20 and hovered around the train stop, delighted to be first in the queue. And we waited. And waited.
Then a passing lady said, 'It's not running today because of the raft race.'
Have you tried recently to catch a bus on a Sunday? They don't run very often. But we got there in the end after a trip all around the houses, literally.
First stop Limeslade. 'It's a good climbing beach,' GrandSon2 exclaimed before shooting off up the side of the cliff. That was okay; he's a good confident climber. But then three-year-old GrandDaughter2 followed him. Followed speedily by Granny, 'Wait for me! Be careful! Go on your bottom! Hold my hand!'
'I okay,' she replied ignoring my beseeching.
GrandDaughter1 looked on and said, 'It's a good job Mummy and Daddy aren't here.'
It was a phrase she repeated when I'd bought her a cola slushie. 'Mummy won't let me have slushies,' she said, as she sipped on it.
By the time we got to the raft race they were hot, tired and grumpy and it was very crowded so we didn't bother to stay long.
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