The kitchen table overflows with tute sheets these days. Tute sheets are tutorials where Mark has to deconstruct some mathematical formula, and my man spreads out when he’s doing them. I love watching him; he’s so focused and intent as he tries to solve the maths.

I don’t really have such things; my education is both far simpler, and far more complicated. With maths, you have a formula, and you either know how to solve it or you don’t. The complication lies in understanding, and not in the execution. With English it’s the opposite. Books are simple to understand, but are complicated when you have to write a coherent report.

So, we’re not going to do that for a bit, in a bit. On Thursday we’re going away for a couple of days, just the two of us. Auntie has heard that she is pet guard from Thursday to Sunday. It is even likely that Mark’s mother may come and stay in our house while we are away. Now, we just have to hide things that we would be mortified about if she found them.

Auntie and Mark’s mum could have a girls’ night for themselves, like they used to have sometimes when Mark’s parents lived here in town.

It’s onward till Thursday then, and then we can slink out the back door, and go away and do what’s needed to recharge the old batteries. We’re going into London, and we have reserved a B&B room. Time to pretend to be teenagers for a bit, and do the town. Maybe snog after midnight under the Millennium wheel like last time. Or slurp spaghetti as in Lady & The Tramp in some Italian restaurant. Or… just be.

I can’t wait.

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