First of all today I’d like to say a quick but heartfelt thankyou to the people who made the little cheer-up message which appeared in the Comments the other day. Especially Aislinn who had previously done an old-school pens-and-paper version of the same thing. You are all extremely kind. I wish I were a national treasure like Stephen Fry, then my emotional peaks and troughs would feel a bit more justified. The more impressive your contribution to the world, the more you can expect to be indulged by the world’s sympathies when things go wrong. But still. Thank you ever so much. I’ll work on becoming a national treasure (on NT) and keep you posted on my progress. As far as I can see, the main national treasures at the moment are Fry, Ronnie Corbett, Brucie, maybe Judi Dench… all people who’ve been around a long time. My predictions for future NTs are Charlotte Church and Adrian Chiles (maybe). That still leaves a gap for an NT who’s around 30 and has mostly appeared on Radio 4. I think it’s there for the taking.
I’m afraid this is going to be one of the blogs that don’t really contain anything other than the information that I am super-tired. I got up early and went to the Passport Office with Kit to get him a baby passport (seriously; even though he’s not strong enough to lift his head up yet, he’d be classed as a threat to national security if he travelled without ID). We didn’t have his birth certificate so I had to re-book the appointment. I fed, and administered medicine to, a very disappointed Kit in a coffee shop while we waited. People looked at me with the usual spectrum of concern, sympathy, amusement and where-the-hell-is-his-mother-I-bet-you-stole-that-baby. So by the time all that was over, I was absolutely knackered and it was about 11am. It’s incredible how many hours there turn out to be in a day, once you start getting up early (or ‘at adults’ times’ as we sometimes say). I can remember when I would barely be awake at 11. I’ve got a sister at uni and she refers to 10.30 as ‘being up early’.
My limbs feel like they’re made of, not lead exactly, that sounds too solid; maybe damp heavy sand.
So if nobody minds I’ll keep watching this match lying down, then have some dinner, then go to bed early. Tomorrow’s blog may be a similarly flimsy affair as my day will be shaped by the important (or, depending on your point of view, absolutely irrelevant) skirmish between England and their traditional rivals Germany. Come Monday, I shall feel less than 98 years old and will be back to business here. I hope you all have nice weekends. Or are already having them. Or, failing that, have plans which might turn things around.