Whirlwind life of a teenager

How’s this for a busy weekend? Last Saturday she did the first paid day’s work of her life at one of two part-time jobs she fixed up for this summer, starting at 10am and finishing at 5pm.

Once that was over, she spent the evening at a fancy dress party in Warrington with her friends from college, and, after about 35 minutes’ sleep, went to Blackpool with her old dance school the following morning for a performance at the Winter Gardens that night. She got home at around 11pm, crawled into bed, got up around 8ish, walked to her Monday to Friday summer job, finished at 5pm and then had a driving lesson on emergency stops. I was knackered just typing that, most people past a certain age haven’t been physically capable of it for quite some time, but then again, unlike her, we’re not 17 and made from Kevlar with limitless resources of energy.

Nowadays we get the same thrill at the news of a last-minute cancellation of a social occasion as we once did from sneaking out of the house to go to an all-night party.

Our daughters have inherited their work ethic from their schoolteacher mother, who spent the first two days of her summer break making her new classroom just so, before weeding the garden in 26C blazing sunshine.

She can’t sit still, unlike yours truly who, since a cycling accident worthy of a Darwin Award earlier this month for its eye-watering clumsiness and stupidity, can do little else apart from literally twiddling my thumb and fingers to get as big a range of movement as possible to try and reduce nerve damage. The broken and dislocated left elbow and shattered wrist are still sore and stiff and the high-strength, opiate-based painkillers give you brain fog, occasional bursts of mild euphoria and chronic constipation.

But apart from that, everything’s tickety-boo.

I won’t be opening the bowling for England anytime soon but with a fair wind and a positive meeting with the consultant, should be back at work the week after next. Fingers crossed (on my good hand).