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Welcome to todays diary entry! D-Day today. And not just the historical kind – although yes, I did have a moment of quiet reflection this morning thinking about that too. No, this was my own little personal D-Day… as in, Disaster for my back.
I was supposed to go fishing today – had it all planned, kit sorted, snacks ready, peace and quiet firmly in my sights – but instead I woke up with a back that felt like it had been attacked by a team of angry elves wielding hammers. I don’t know what I’ve done to it. Maybe it was the Fegans’ awning setup finally catching up with me. Maybe it was the accumulated strain of weeks on the go. Maybe I just moved weird in my sleep. But whatever it was – it had me fully out of action.
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So, I did the only sensible thing: stayed in my PJs for the majority of the day. Not even ashamed. Comfort was priority number one. It was a full-on rest and recover mission… at least until Rory (aka The Beef) decided he’d had quite enough of relaxing, thank you very much.
By about 2pm, I peeled myself out of my soft cotton cocoon and took him down to the swing park for a bit of air and exercise. He was bouncing off the walls, so it was definitely needed – even if my back protested with every step.
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We considered walking down to where Kel was fishing, just for a change of scene. But my child has developed a new trick, and I have to say, it’s both impressive and infuriating in equal measure. He now knows exactly when we’re approaching the fishing lake, and as soon as we get close, he starts making loud, dramatic moaning noises – the sort you’d expect from someone being asked to clean the toilets with a toothbrush. It’s his little protest chant. His way of saying “Not today, parent.” He’s not daft – he knows if we go in, he’ll be bored within 90 seconds and that I’ll try to fob him off with snacks while sneakily casting a rod. Not happening on his watch.
So instead, we made our way up to the top, found something to eat, and unfortunately ended up with a very underwhelming chicken tikka masala. Bland, soupy, and weirdly sweet – like it wasn’t sure if it wanted to be curry or dessert. Definitely not winning any culinary awards, that’s for sure. One of those meals where you keep eating it because you’ve paid for it, not because you’re enjoying it. Live and learn.
After dinner, it was back to the bingo and then onto kids club – Rory’s absolute favourite thing. Though I’m not entirely sure he understands the structure of it yet. Or the concept, really. While other kids sit nicely in a circle or queue up for dancing games, Rory chooses to… well, just run around in large erratic circles and attempt to sit on strangers’ laps.
Completely unbothered. Like he owns the place. I mean, he’s happy – so that’s the main thing – but watching him from a distance is like observing a very small, chaotic politician at a press event. Smiling, waving, climbing things, inserting himself into conversations he hasn’t been invited to. Very peculiar. Very Rory.
So, while I didn’t make it fishing, the day wasn’t a total write-off. I still got some fresh air, some time with The Beef, and a reminder that rest days – even forced ones – are sometimes exactly what you need.
Back’s still dodgy. But the mood? Solid.
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