Friday night, Saturday night

Friday night used to be dancing night, but at my decrepit age it's more sedate. R. wasn't feeling well- 'women's troubles' (that's an inside joke from Volver)- but was persuaded to come round for her tea nevertheless. I roasted some butternut squash and potatoes, and baked some salmon with a blood-orange sauce- quite palatable. Later we watched a crappy 80s thriller on the TV, because she can't take zombie films. Perhaps because she has no TV, she's not inured or desensitised to blood, gore & violence, and reacts strongly to dramatic representations.

Tomorrow night the big wan's having some friends (n=6) to sleep over. The wee wan and I will lock ourselves in my room and let them exercise their teenage kicks undisturbed unless an ambulance needs to be called or breakages are excessive. David T has suggested I supply a bowl of condoms along with the crudities and dips, and I have a pack of morning-after pills if required by any guests (that's a joke, parents). Unfortunately his best friend, who is a girl, has been grounded by her mum for dyeing her hair blue. It's her hair, for Christ's sake, but it's possible there's more to the story than let on by big wan.