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.

A much better night last night, with M waking up only two or three times. I get up at 8, back on the normal schedule. This week I have very little work to do, as I’m waiting for one job to finish and another to start (hence having the time to write this every day). There is always lesson preparation to be done, though, and a plan-submission-deadline at 12 looms over me, so this along with Chinese study eats up my morning.
After lunch V wants to go out to the hospital to have M checked out. There’s nothing obviously wrong with him, but this may be my last free weekday for a while, so I agree. V puts the baby sling on me. M’s too big to face inwards, and we’re not sure how to arrange it so he faces outwards, and we have to mess around with it for upwards of 15 minutes. V’s parents think we should forget it and just take the pram, but V is vehement. Eventually we get it fixed and get on our way. It’s only at the bus stop that we realise we’ve forgotten his shoes. What ridiculous parents. Good job he wasn’t due to do any walking.
On the bus the recruitment officer at my new school calls to let me know they need a lot of paperwork straight away, then calls again to tell me it was a mistake, and they don’t need it now after all. I sit down, and we take M out of the sling, as it’s not very comfortable any more. I carry him into the hospital and V rushes around talking to people. I take M outside, away from all the children with infectious diseases. He promptly falls asleep in my arms. We find out that general health-checks for babies are unavailable – the only thing we can do is get his eyes tested. He has a habit of rubbing them, and they look a little sore. I carry him up to the second floor ophthalmology department, where a doctor opens his eyes and shines a torch into them, declares them ‘sore’ and prescribes generic eye drops. M manages to stay asleep throughout the examination.
We take an unlicensed taxi back to the house. M sleeps all the way, only waking when we get home and V’s mother has a little shout about how we should’ve taken a taxi there. She was watching us wait from the bus from the window.
It’s now 5.30, and M is quickly asleep again, so I take half an hour out to watch a BBC documentary with V. For dinner we go outside again to buy roujiamou, except now it’s freezing outside and we hurry there and back.
I still haven’t finished planning Friday’s six hours of classes, so the evening is largely spent doing exactly this. That should be all the planning needed for this week, though, and since my new school provide lesson plans it may be one of the last times I ever have to do it. Please.