Anne does martial arts twice a week not too far from home. I take Eliza along. I also take a snack and stuff for Eliza to eat / do so she doesn’t: 1) get on the mat and try to join in; and 2) throw a tantrum because 1) isn’t happening.
Today, while Eliza was given a pack of dried fruit and chia seed chews, a few of the other kids (younger siblings and a student who’s taken a liking to Eliza) practically lined up to get a piece. So that didn’t last long. Some stickers and a sheet of paper had to make an appearance, therefore, and the kids all wanted to do some sticking, too.
I honestly do not understand how someone who has stoked and revelled in division can speak now of healing divisions, asking people who have been stirred into hating and demonising one another to now work together.
Trump was not elected on a platform of decency, fairness, moderation, compromise, and the rule of law; he was elected, in the main, on a platform of resentment. Fascism is not our future—it cannot be; we cannot allow it to be so—but this is surely the way fascism can begin.
You have quite a challenge, my American friends and family.
Not since 2008 have I been this obsessed with the actual day of the US Presidential election. I’m knackered with a dilly-dallying four-year old and a one-year old who’s been waking near hourly for the past week with teething issues, a cold, and what seems likely to be a growth spurt, but after the shock of the EU referendum, I am genuinely anxious about what news I will be reading when I wake up.
Anne’s experiencing her second week of school, and she has now made friends (“On the pirate ship!” Oh, if only my primary school had one of those) with twin boys who — while not in her actual class at school — happen to be in the same after-school swim class. Their mum said that they wanted her to have a sleepover at theirs.
Oh, the innocence of youth.
Also, that means today’s swimming lesson involved the three of them mucking about enough to get gently told off by the coach. This could be a long year, pool-wise.
I saw my friend Sally today. The last time we met was Chinese New Year’s Eve, when we heard about her version of doner (aka death van) kebab. It is pure coincidence that I actually made my attempt at death van kebab tonight.
It tasted like a kebab.
Anne liked it.
Eliza ate one whole slice of it.
Neil, disliker of lamb, liked it.
I’m just so surprised that we all enjoyed something that tastes like junk food.
With a few amendments: I’m out of fresh garlic, so used dried, I had to prep the lamb mince on the weekend and freeze it, so it was defrosted today and baked in an 180°C oven for 80 minutes. I also found a recipe for garlic sauce somewhere (dried garlic, mayonnaise, Greek yoghurt, dried parsley) so I could have my kebab the way I like it.
I swear, these little fuckersshitebags people are trying to drive me insane. The only things they both like are fries / chips and chicken nuggets, everything is is literally love-hate, i.e. one loves and the other hates.