Weeknotes 44

In the past two weeks, C has begun insisting we hold his hands so he can toddle around. Having previously shown little interest in movement, this is quite a change of pace and has led to the discovery there is no greater fun in the world than pulling magnets off a radiator or mashing the buttons on a washing machine.

This newfound mobility has meant I routinely find tiny, greasy hand-prints in new and exciting places. John Siracusa would not approve of C’s love of pressing his sticky palms against our TV screen.

Now that I have been able to help with childcare in these last few weeks before E returns to work, she has begun a methodical deep clean of our flat starting with our kitchen (grubby hand-prints notwithstanding). It has been a great opportunity to KonMari the strange, useless things one accumulates over time, e.g. an expansive collection of reusable wine bottles that can only be filled at a shop that no longer offers refills.

I write this looking out over a rolling Yorkshire dale.

We’re staying in a self-catering lodge which was apparently thoroughly disinfected and—as if to really shock-and-awe any virus—had some kind of antibacterial fog bomb detonated within.

This isn’t our first time here as this was our wedding venue nearly three years ago. Upon arrival, we were greeted by a member of staff who had looked after us back then. She told us they stopped doing weddings shortly after ours so we were one of the last.

This is the furthest we’ve travelled since the pandemic began. Halfway through the journey, we stopped at a motorway service station and enjoyed a picnic of cold pizza and peanut butter sandwiches in our car.