blessed are the babysitters...

We are going out for a meal tonight. Philippa and I, I mean. A belated 'let's celebrate my wife passing her qualifications as a sports massager' chowdown. A 7pm booking at a lovely-looking, fairly-new, Mediterranean-themed restaurant near the coast. I tried to get her to meet me at the burger van near work, but she refused. So picky...

I'm seeing this as a trial. A try-out. A testing of the waters. A dipping-in-of-one-toe-to-see-how-the-wafer-crumbles kind of affair. On two fronts, too. Can our two young children cope without seeing us for a whole evening? And do we like the food on offer? As I would very much like to spend more evenings with just Philippa and I, occasionally, and I would very much like to book us a foreign holiday for next Winter. While the temperature is unpleasant and work is a wee bit quieter, why not hoik the family over to the continent for a bit of rest and sunshine? And there are many Mediterranean-based locations I have looked at that would be ideal, so if we enjoy the food tonight I am seeing it as a good sign, and a good step on the road towards an airport...

It might also provoke me to FINALLY learn a foreign language. Properly. I've dabbled with French so many times but never quite got past the second week of the three-month course I paid for. It still looks good sitting on my office shelf, but I'd rather like to get my money's worth. So maybe this will be the push I need to get my tongue in gear and dust the CDs off and get learning again.
Unless we're not going to go to France, in which case it would be pointless.

RC 27-2-24