Get up early as A is playing netball and wants an early lesson. I leave home with H to pick up my cay, and when I get there realise my phone is at home. I still don't know which house A lives in, I always call her from outside, which of course I can't do. Second time this has happened. I decide to ring home.I have two 20ps, which is what a bloody phone box call costs these days.
I dread someone being on the phone and me going through to call minder, which of course will involve the 40p going down the metaphorical BT drain.
Fortunately I get through to Dan, and even more fortunately H has just walked through the door. She rings A and we eventually meet. She's pretty upbeat about her theory test and is confident about next time.
The footie season is finally relinquishing it's grip. Hull City will be in the premiership next season. Hard not to think it will be a brief visit prior to a return to mediocrity and obscurity.
The test match goes in fits and starts,, with New Zealand generally on top. Considering England were supposed to brush them aside 3-0 before getting on to the important business of South Africa, things can hardly be said to be going to plan.
If it's fine (though cold) in Manchester, here, all pretence of summer has been abandoned. It's cold, and grey with the sun but an occasional visitor.
In the evening we watch the scoring bit of the Eurovision song contest. It's hard not to admire Wogan. His manner has changed in recent years from gentle mockery to open scorn, but he does come out with some prize lines.
We sit around and eat a Chinese takeaway en famille and watch the Russians storm to triumph.
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