260. Practice run 2

Today is Sunday and early this morning my husband was highly motivated and suggested we took a trip to the supermarket.

'Get it out of the way. May as well.' He said.

This chore used to be a weekly one but lockdown after lockdown I somehow learned to go without. However this morning, supplies were dramatically low. Only pink toilet paper left. No milk. Only 250 teabags left. An English man must have an endless supply of milk and tea. He might want a cup of tea at any time with no warning whatsoever. 

I hesitated. Sunday lunch to prepare, white table cloth and all. As a very last attempt to educate the kids before they leave the house for good. Don't laugh. I brush aside the thought of last weekend's disaster when my husband set the tablecloth on fire. Not with the candles. It wasn't anyone's birthday. With the coffee pot. I am well practiced at putting out tablecloth fires (my passion for all things flambée) but still it was a bit of a shock for everyone - except my husband.

'Oh, it's okay.' He said.

Which reminds me I have to write a post about the BBQ incident.

Now and again I remind myself that I have signed up to drive across Africa with this man. And I wonder if this was in my right mind at the time. (I wasn't. It was lockdown.) I try to put all this out of my mind and focus on the shopping.

We get his and hers trolley. It takes two minutes for his to be filled up with a huge bag of dog food, a humongous family pack of toilet paper, BBQ charcoal and a selection of beers. Then he heads to the cash desk and to the car, smiling. He comes back and meets me, still smiling to himself. 

'The weather is good enough for a stay over practice run.'

And he guides me through the aisles so we get the supplies for the weekend. Strangely we head back towards the alcohol section. I let him get on with it and I try to focus on the normal shopping for home.

A practice run. Things are definitely getting serious. Back home I can see him conscientiously packing his manual (Christmas present), his handbook for Africa (birthday present) and a selection of tools. Then he sits himself in front of the family computer and starts looking at the map of the area.

'Beach? Forest? Country? Lakeside? Riverside?'

I do not know if he is talking to himself of to me.

Miss Organiser (fully deserving her nickname these days) comes in, sees her dad checking routes on the map.

'We're going on a weekend away? Great! It's been a while.'

'We are. Your mum and I. You're not.'

She looks utterly shocked.

'We're starting the practice runs ... for Africa.' I say, trying to soften the blow.

Baby walks in. Miss Organiser warns her.

'Our parents are planning a trip without us. Saying it's practice for Africa. They could practice with us, what d'you think?'

Baby's forefinger is raised towards her temple and moving rapidly in a circular motion. I frown at her. She takes no notice. She is really turning into an unmanageable teenager. The three of them wrapped into one.

'They're crazy. And they will end up driving us crazy with that Africa business of theirs.'

'Hey!' I shout. My husband is oblivious to all this, deep into his research.

'You know, I would be a real help. I could spot the best bars, the best restaurants, find the best spot on the beach, ... '

'Start by cooking us dinner, and pour me a drink.'

She looks at me, horrified, looks at her sister and they both head off.

'We're not welcome. Come on. Let's go and plan something of our own.'

I sit down next to my husband and we start planning.