Some readers, if indeed there are any readers still left, may have cottoned on to the fact that my life is pretty tame and quiet. I am increasingly finding that routine appeals to me and doing anything out of my routine can frankly just take a bit too much effort. The highlights of my life are a trip to the gym followed by a glass of wine, walking the dog down the canal and tending to my beans and radishes ( BTW that is not a euphemism for anything.) Consequently readers (if there are any left...) may be glad to hear that this week I have managed three nights out IN A ROW! This reckless spontaneity began with a meal out with friends at Gusto, an excellent Italian restaurant in Knutsford on Saturday, a trip to see the Odd Socks company in their excellent, not at all highbrow, performance of Midsummer Night's Dream on Sunday, and a drink out on Monday to say farewell to a colleague. Top that all off with the fact that I am going on retreat on Friday. A retreat, I hear you say, does this woman always live life in the fast lane? Will the partying ever stop?
Meanwhile, my younger son is on holiday in Zante (Zakynthos). If someone told me I was going abroad and had to drink a lot and party all night, I might just cry. So he is the wild child to whom the title of this post refers. Heavens only knows what he is up to, all I can say is that I am glad I don't. He returns on Friday early morning; in the afternoon I set off on retreat, hopefully to give thanks for his safe return!