quite good friday

On a day where brief intervals of sunshine are shot through with much longer periods of rain and gloom, we begin the preparations for the kitchen people who are arriving next Tuesday, to rip out our old one and put in a new one. My contribution: I filled eight cardboard boxes with stuff and carried them down to the garage at the bottom of the garden. That's my mini-workout for the day, if you like. Then later, my wife had to take several forays down there to retrieve things I shouldn't have moved (vinegar, glasses, coffee mugs) that we are going to need prior to Tuesday. Tomorrow is the big day, when we take most of the furniture down there. It's a big space, but I am already doubtful it will be big enough to take everything that needs to be stowed. And the house itself is already crowded.

I had arranged with my mother for us, plus my father-in-law, to go to her house for Easter Sunday lunch, but last night she phoned to say she had "double booked" and could we go on Monday instead. I agreed at the time, but this morning I phoned back to say the kitchen people were coming on Monday (a lie) therefore we would have to cry off. She concedes, but 5 minutes later rings again to say that that wouldn't work. We batted the issue back and forth for a few minutes, before she finally agreed to stick to our original (Sunday) arrangement. I'd like to say this is all about her gradually failing powers of memory, but it isn't. She's been pulling stunts like this all my life, changing arrangements then blaming me (as she did on this occasion) for getting them wrong. It is part of her highly manipulative way, but she forgets that both I and my wife are used to manipulating on a daily basis as part of our job descriptions, and also that we are skilled in resisting manipulation. Nice try, mum...