V’s been reading my old blogs from my days in Prague and asked me why I don’t write about my life any more. I said that it wasn’t that interesting, and that as I bored myself writing about it, I dread to think what anyone else will make of it. She disagreed. The upshot of all this is that I’m going to try to write a full record of this week, and see if it’s in any way readable or interesting. Please let me know what you think, usually-non-commenting page-hit-people.

M is awake for the majority of the night, but it’s a little less than the night before. Generally he’s not crying, but we have to keep an eye on him in case he falls down or hurts himself. At 7 V’s mother again takes him away for his morning bath. In the past we’ve had a lot of disagreements with her, but these days she’s a godsend. We sleep in until 10 – while this is much-needed, I really don’t want to make it a habit. Losing the first three hours of each day is a massive waste, especially when the rest of the morning is eaten up by breakfast, studying Chinese and catching up with internet stuff.
When V gets up we take M upstairs. He seems bored in his cot, but he’s at an awkward age, too old to be carried all the time, too young to walk or play by himself. From time to time we play with him or pick him up, but we both have other things to do. Of course, if he slept this wouldn’t be a problem, but these days he’s not going to sleep enough. He also seems to have lost interest in food. After a few spoonfuls he simply refuses to open his mouth. V is very worried about this, and says she thinks he’s bored and needs to try different food. I suspect that the lack of sleeping and eating are related to teething, but check out some different recipes anyway. It’s worth a try.
With lessons prepared I head out to work at 2pm. V and her mother leave at the same time to take M for his monthly shot at the hospital. He’s been a little sick after one of these before, and we’re all hoping that this one has no adverse reaction. When I get on the bus I realise I’ve forgotten my headphones, so just spend the journey making all the phone calls on my ‘to do’ list. There’s a fair bit of congestion on the roads, and I get to class with only five minutes to spare.
The first lesson is a beginners’ writing class. There are around ten students in their early 20s, and one man who looks to be around 55 or 60. It goes as well as can be expected for this sort of thing – writing classes are bound to be dull, particularly for beginners. I hang around the office for a little while, then say goodbye to the staff, as this is probably my last class for this school. They take some photos with me, but I didn’t have time to shave, and am looking pretty tired, so the results aren’t very flattering.
My next class is a ten minute subway journey away – corporate training in the Chinese branch of a western company. These kinds of classes – voluntary after-work English courses – are never well-attended, and only two students turn up. There’s quite a relaxed atmosphere, and fun is had by all three of us.
The journey home is fairly short. It’s odd not having any music to listen to, but it gives me a chance to think about plans for next year. The first subway train gets to the terminus and I beat most of the other passengers in the race to the other platform, managing to get a seat so I can read my Lin Yutang book. Then there’s a five-minute bus journey. In the scrabble to board the bus a middle-aged man pushes me out of the way. I swear at him, in English.
At home I have some dinner. V & M are back from the clinic. He only cried for five seconds after the injection – a brave boy. We play with him for a while, he seems to be in a very good mood now, then get him to sleep by nine thirty, and prepare for an early night ourselves.

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