Mothers, children, and REM

This morning, my first outdoor view was of a gorgeous snow-dusted Barton. That snow-dusting has now melted. However, on distant hills to the north west the snow remains – and that is attractive.

The next few days promise to be quite chaotic. Back in October, Catherine and I bought tickets to see REM at the Birmingham NEC Arena. That gig is tomorrow evening. Having spent last weekend with friends in the south west, I suspect Catherine is on the brink of realising that she has been trying to spin too many plates at once. On speaking to her yesterday evening, I sensed in her the potential for moodiness – a combination of work and leisure interests over-crowding her mind and diary being my ‘do-not-feed-the-animals-keep-it-to-yourself-Shane’ diagnosis. However, as we now have the tickets my view is that we should go along and relax – that’s right, 100% self-interested. As I shall be in BigCity later today I will be calling on Ms C and young Gemma (she of 4th birthday party fame) for an evening meal. I will be armed with an agenda of gentle spirit-raising. Shortly after that - at about 8pm – I shall be calling on Emma. I am told that young Alex should be in bed by then. I expect to feel a bit spooked being in the house that she continues to share with Ed – who is working in London until Friday. I won’t be staying at Emma’s.

I received an unsubtle note from Ma Wexford today requesting that I call old Grandma Elspeth. The fact that there was football on TV last weekend - and I’m guessing there will be more tomorrow - will give us something to talk about. Unfortunately, every time I talk to the old bird I end up pondering Ma Wexford’s not-hugely-distant experience of maximum-impact empty nest syndrome - that, and silly Geordies getting all excited about their chances in Europe, only for the inevitable to happen once again.

And again, it is snowing – the whispy fluffy kind. What chance unhindered travel tomorrow?