It’s been like Fawlty Towers here today, what with sick sons, dramatic partners and various storms in teacups. It’s too hot to be rushing around but I’ve been up and downstairs a million times seeing to Daniel’s needs, and then there was a total bloody panic mid-afternoon when his stiff neck got much worse and everyone (but me) thought it was the aspartame. I blamed Mark for being a drama queen, he blamed me for not asking for medicine sans aspartame and everyone blamed the medicine manufacturers for putting such a noxious ingredient in their medicine. So back to the doc’s we all went, looking like some kind of slow-motion dance as we held a hand apiece and manoeuvred Daniel across the road (thank god the doctor’s isn’t further away, we’d have had to get a taxi). The doctor was quite baffled by Mark’s assertion that he thought the aspartame to blame and she then got an earful from him (and a subsequent apology) about the dangers of that bloody sweetener. So Mark (bless him) is now en route to the chemist to try to get another antibiotic that doesn’t have you-know-what in it.
I’m being a bit harsh on people here; it’s just that I think a little common sense goes a long way…
Guess who doesn’t believe in common sense?
Anyway, now I’ve got that off my chest it’s time to go and make the dinner since Mark isn’t here to make it.
A toute a l’heure!