Chicken pox

 

I meant to take Lucy to a pediatrician in the US while we were there in April, to have the varicella (chicken pox) vaccine that the others had at age 1. But we were busy playing at the beach, seeing family (just yesterday Iain asked if we could go back and see his cousins), and going to Disneyland (thanks, Nick & Carmen). So Lucy has chicken pox. I am not at the meeting today; I won't be at the meeting tomorrow. Oh, well.

Lucy, on the other hand, thinks having a bath in the middle of the day is great.

Two Sundays

 

This was Sunday, the 10th of June. Fortunately Anna stayed clean and dry on the 17th in her first Holy Communion whites. The same cannot be said for Thomas, however, who took the opportunity of having friends round as a sign that it was time to play football. So much for that new, brilliant-white shirt.
 

 
 
 

a free ride

Today had nothing to recommend it, really. A morning full of marking (grading) and shuffling paper in my office, followed by a doctor's appointment of a routine but unpleasant nature. My only consolation was not having to take the car. I love the feeling of freedom I get from the knowledge that I can get where I need to go without worrying about car keys, parking, or traffic. I can't explain it, but it's a great feeling--like the first day of summer vacation when I was 12.

And the day unfolded pretty much as you'd expect. So dull I won't bore you with the details. The only exceptional thing was the astounding find of a pair of jeans at a charity shop on the way to the bus station. The ones I bought for about $5 at the Goodwill store on LaVista road in Tucker had just worn a hole in the knee, after doing great service these five years or so.

The doctor's office is in Meadowfield, a few miles from Bearpark, where we live. So I planned to catch the bus to the crossroads, where it would continue to Durham and I would head into Bearpark on foot. I hopped on the bus and asked for Neville's cross. The bus driver shook his head. 'I'm not going into Durham, pet,' he said, and the handful of older passengers looked at me with a mixture of amusement and compassion. Just as this exchange was taking place, another bus passed us. 'That's the one you want,' he said, smiling. 'You stay right there; I'll catch him for you.' So I sat down as he pulled out after the 49a, the one I wanted. He did, in fact, catch it at the next stop, and the bus ahead stopped just for me.

I thanked the bus drivers both, enthusiastically. Between them, they made my day: I rode a few blocks for free, and caught the bus I needed. It's true that I then walked the rest of the way home (about a 30 minute walk) in the wrong shoes, and in the rain. But I did it with a smile on my face.