Right, let’s talk about the night of 1st July 2009 and the bloody, wrist-slashing adventure that ensued.
We’d only buried my father at the weekend, and with that rather large event behind us, there was suddenly a metric ton of paperwork to take care of. Notifying all the various companies he had accounts with, getting utility bills transferred into The Mother’s name and dealing with a few legal matters. Not to mention the insurance claim for their disastrous trip to Lourdes.
Just flew back in from London yesterday to discover Jake had taken a nasty fall earlier that morning on the way to school.
While running with Rachel and some of their friends, he tripped over somebody's feet and landed face-first on the ground. He didn't even have time to raise his hands to protect himself.
Right now, he's got a glowing red cut on his forehead and his cheekbone and nose are scraped and raw-looking. Poor little fella.
We were away this weekend in Ballycastle visiting the folks up there.
Saturday evening was beautiful, so we decided to go for a walk. The weather was warm, but there was a gentle breeze keeping us cool. Rachel and Jake came along on their scooters, riding a bit too fast for comfort (since I was the one trying to keep up with them)!
