I have no idea what our kid was dreaming about, but when he woke up this morning the first words he said were “Get cake”, and when I asked him what he’d like for breakfast he said “ice cream”. Fortunately he consented to cornflakes and an apple.
Also before breakfast our kitchen sink flooded the kitchen; the pipe underneath it appears to have been held together by friction. Unfortunately gravity won in the end. Simultaneously, the washing machine stopped working. Fortunately it didn’t flood the kitchen. Unfortunately the clothes and all the water are still inside it until the guy arrives to rescue them. He was going to come this afternoon, but this is Argentina. We phoned and had words. He may come tomorrow.
I went to Quebracho Herrado this morning and this afternoon. This morning was a non-event so I didn’t stay very long, but this afternoon worked out well. Kid of 16 came in wanting help with numeracy and literacy, she’s actually better than she thinks, really should be doing a secondary school curriculum, but the system here is that you either start secondary school with your peers, or you can’t start it till you are 18 so she’s potentially in limbo for the next couple of years unless we can find a way round the bureaucracy. Following that we also had a good chance meeting with an older couple who look to be key players in the village. Every village / small town has them; the folk who are on every committee, organise the fete, finger in every pie, some people hate them, but the fact is that they are the people you need to know if you actually want to see something done.
Then it was back to San Francisco, throw child in bath and leave him to Daddy’s tender care while I went to Scout leader’s meeting. And now I’m worn out. How did I used to survive back in my mis-spent youth when I cycled thirteen miles to work, put in a hard ten hours a day and still had energy left for activities nearly every evening? (having swept the chimney and licked the road clean first and you tell that to the young folk of today and they don’t believe you…)