Jane has been bullying me, for some time, to go on a Della Galton course.
'I can't,' I said. 'It's all day. What'll I do with the kids?'
'I'll have them,' she said.
'But it's in Dorset,' I said. 'That's miles away.'
'This side of Dorset,' she said. "Hour-and-a-half max.'
'It'll be really expensive,' I said.
She made me look it up. 'Thirty-five quid,' she said.
And I said, 'Oh.'
So, on Monday, I wrote to ask if there were any spaces. I received no reply, but not wanting to hassle the great lady, I waited patiently. That was until (the lovely) Helen (to whom I am now twice indebted) forwarded me a warning from dear Della of the last few places available. I scrabbled another message off asap, and learned from the (almost instant) reply that my original email had never arrived. Eeeeek!
But it's okay, cos I'm now...Pencilled In! Yippee!
It turned out to be a really awkward day for Jane to have the kids, so, I called in some non-existent favours from some wonderful friends, and now have the following three-way schedule to staple to himself's forehead: [actually, I'll spare you the schedule; it's complicated...]
(Still loving the novel)