Better than last week's archery lesson, which wasn't on at all, thanks to Grit writing the wrong date in the diary.
We turned up for it of course, to be met by the bemused staff wondering why we were a week early.
If it could have got worse then, it did. Coincidentally last Tuesday was the day of Squirrel's ballet exam. (Thank goodness, because it meant an end to crashing around in the bedrooms.) The exam, of course, meant Squirrel was busy, and there was a spare place at the archery lesson. One I gave away to Issy, aged nine, who also turned up with her mum. As I'd said. A week early. In the pouring rain.
But this week I have the diary-date-day thing clear in my head and today is an archery lesson. Definitely. Even the sign says so. And Issy's come again and everyone's happy.
Which should teach me a lesson about dates, and days. If only it's a lesson I could learn.
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