Who needs a bathroom anyway?
PUBLISHED: 12:14 01 June 2017 | UPDATED: 12:14 01 June 2017
It’s not going as well as I’d like. But actually, right now, it really doesn’t matter, writes Jo Malone.
We’re getting ready for school and work while I’m trying to explain what happened in Manchester to Keola and Thalia.
I’m not doing very well. They don’t know where Manchester is and while I want them to understand it’s not that far away, I don’t want to worry them.
I’m explaining this was a very dreadful, sad and very rare occurrence, that we are as safe as anyone and that it will not affect anything we do in any way.
We had watched the children’s news on CBBC the morning after the bombing and I’m following its explanation that it’s being talked about a lot because it’s a rare thing. I’m saying it’s important we do talk a lot about those people who have died, their families, those injured and the people who loved them. I think the girls understand. I think they know this isn’t what usually happens in Great Britain.
A picture of Saffie Rose Roussos is on the TV and then Keola realises that, since her recent birthday, she’s older than Saffie.
It makes it real to her, and I realise she listens more and understands more than I think as she brings up PC Keith Palmer and the Westminster deaths and the people who died in Nice.
“It’s still very unusual,” I’m saying, as the phone rings.
It’s Rob, who’s working in Holland.
“Happy anniversary,” he says.
Agh! He’s right. I’m delighted he’s remembered (he always does), but I feel really guilty. How could I have forgotten? We’d even opened a card and present from my mum the evening before he left. Then he asks to talk to Keola; she dashes off and brings a card he’s hidden.
I feel even worse.
I have, after that, a day of minor disasters. It’s everything; from remembering I forgot the dentist the day before to dropping milk, spilling sugar, discovering on the bus that the dress I’m wearing really doesn’t fit properly, Thalia making a nest from lots of dried grass cuttings in the lounge, a hornet buzzing ominously near the kitchen door, finding something bloody and almost unidentifiable left by the cats in the hall when we get home, and later the cat culprit throwing up something even more unpleasant.
I’m not really in the mood for bathtime as the bath is in the garden (the new bathroom floor concrete is still wet) and none of the hoses fit the kitchen tap without a serious amount of faffing and a fair amount of kitchen floor flooding.
Luckily princess Sunny arrives home with a super useful friend who does clever things with the hosepipe, tap and tape and we get the bath filled with warm water.
Keola’s not that impressed but Thalia is delighted, adding extra grass to her water.
It still all makes everything much later than usual and naturally the salmon I thought was in the fridge is in the freezer and so we don’t eat for ages.
But later, looking at my girls sleeping, I feel lucky. A bath outside, spilt milk, ill-fitting dresses, cat sick, grass indoors, even a forgotten anniversary - it’s nothing. We’re all fine.
We are so lucky.