I work nine hours a day in Dublin and am three hours a day on the bus ride out to the country, so I have to practice good time management to work in enough time every day with The Girl. And this week, it hasn’t been happening.
Sorry I’m late tonight, I told her – I was waiting at the bus stop in freezing sideways rain for an hour, and the bus never came.
“It’s not your fault, Daddy,” she said, leaning her head on my chest. “It was the bus. That hated, foul, accursed bus.”
Did you start reading Treasure Island yet? I asked.
Photo: The Girl near the monastery of Glendalough, on an Ice Age boulder putting a paper hat on her teddy bear.