C’est chic

I’m still in the creative wilderness

Since the dearth of creativity still lingers on, here I go again with my stream-of-consciousness nonsense, which – please note – is being written while I half watch Only Connect and enjoy a mini Twix.

Lydia has just gone to bed after a non-typical day: Our village was flooded to the extent that the schools and play schools closed, so she was off. Which meant she came to my gym class with me (thank heavens for my sound coach and his gym-adjacent, child-sized anteroom) and afterwards she sat with a show playing on my phone while I recorded a podcast episode, after which I had to basically Chitty Chitty Bang Bang my car into a floating vessel to get her to my mother-in-law so that I could continue work for the afternoon.

Which I did, but a good chunk of my day was lopped off thanks to Storm Chandra’s attitude problem. Met Éireann would want to cop on to themselves?! Red warnings when a bucket in our garden might blow over but letting us rawdog severe flooding with not so much as a tweet? Not cool. (Yes yes, I know they warned us about the wind).

It occurred to me today, as I spoke to friends of mine living locally, that very few dads (in families where there are some) were impacted in any way by the school closures. I’ll leave that nugget there, presented without comment.