It was a weekend mostly notable for what didn't happen. No home nation victories in the rugby and more importantly no 200 mile round trip to see our boy. He managed beautifully without us.
Friday saw the return of The Returned and a chance to catch our breath, after a busy few days of commuting. On Saturday there was a bit of card making, for a new arrival. Well, she's 10 days old now. You know how it is. Rugby of course, but we won't talk about that.
Sunday was a slow start with coffee and croissants, followed by washing, grass cutting (for the last time this year, I hope) and a lovely roast. My girl decided to try my way of eating the Yorkshire pudding and declared it delicious. The Mechanic remains unmoved.
More rugby. My boy watched the Ireland game in the city centre and rang me afterwards, hugely disappointed with the result. He had written the Scots off and didn't go back out for that match. I think that was the more exciting game. Those last few minutes were excruciating.
Today finds me quietly reflective. You may recall we lost my Father-in-law earlier this year and it would have been his birthday today. We'll be raising a glass to him this evening.
Joining with Sian and the growing band of Mondayers.