But the main problem is J. Anything is bearable if the children are happy.
Yesterday, Daughter 1, my husband and I dragged him round the Botanic Gardens, which were as usual lovely. The lad cheered up fractionally, perhaps.
Today is a holiday and I’m planning to get my bedding plants into the garden, the pots and the hanging baskets planted up. Which, if it happens, should be enjoyable or at least provide a sense of achievement. But there’s a big stone in my stomach.
And tomorrow is the markers’ meeting for Higher English (Highers are Scottish national exams) which means that between tomorrow evening and June 7th I have to mark 210 scripts, each with two close reading passages – 21 questions per script. To do this, I need to work for 3 hours per evening and 9 hours per weekend day. It’s my own fault that I’m doing this, of course; I do get paid. And there’s a certain masochistic satisfaction in getting through the task, year by year.