Father's Day feast

Yesterday late afternoon I thought, in my melodramatic way, if I die now, I'll die happy.

Did Jane Ellison's marvellous class on Zoom at 1, and by 3.30 my family arrived, Thomas and Eli by bicycle right across town - he's just 8, and at the end of the day he rode back with his dad, whereas I would never make it both ways! - and the others by Uber, bearing gifts. I'd asked Thomas for any leftovers from his garden to replace my chewed up Swiss chard, and they brought two big baskets with lettuce, tomatoes, marigolds, peppers, and other things he wasn't sure about that I'll need to look up - maybe a turnip and maybe a watermelon?

There was merriment and two boys wrestling like puppies on the grass and then Sam barbecued steak, chicken, salmon on a plank, Portobello mushrooms, and mixed vegetables. I made pomegranate/cucumber salad, green salad with garden lettuce, baked potatoes - a big fave of the boys and their father - and asparagus.

We FaceTimed for ages with their dad in Washington, who is suffering - after a heroic years-long successful struggle to get his massive theatre out of debt, now everything's shut down until there's a vaccine. And now his and other theatres are being attacked by BLM as "white theatres." I feel for him.

Thomas rode back here today to help put my upstairs tenant's heavy air conditioning unit in. I told him, If there's one thing I'll say to myself on my deathbed, it's that I helped create a family of people who like each other and get along.
And he said, laughing, Even during a Covid-19 lockdown.
Yes, even then.

After they left, I had work to do - final decisions on the photos going into the book, as the ms. had to go to the publisher this morning, though I took a break for Grantchester, which is not as good without the hunky James Norton, but good nonetheless.

So it has gone, beginning the next stage of its journey.