old habits

Using the wingpiglet as an I'm-supposed-to-be-here-look accoutrement, I attended a tenement-garden barbecue this afternoon filled with people I didn't know, two of whom I had met once before but a large proportion of whom appeared to be from some of the infant/parent-but-we-really-mean-mother groups Nicky has been popping to to allow Edgar to get used to meeting other people so that he doesn't turn out like me. Luckily we initially had to leave the buggy the other side of a bike-jam in the hallway so that I got to carry him out, significantly reducing the lemon-ness of my subsequent standing-about. Once a corner was established to sit in it was mostly fine with the main group of people no-one knew safely on the other side of the garden. On the pretext of having to get to the office to drop things off and put other things in my locker so that they aren't needlessly stuck in lost property during the changing-room weekend-clean I managed to leave a little bit early though could have saved some time by remembering to take my work pass with me and not having to go back home for it. I popped into the flat on the way back out to check that the plastering-man had 1: started and 2: not bent any radiator pipes back from the wall this time, He has, and so far has not, but might have done something weird with one of the holes in the wall which we were using to feed the plug end of a multiplug from the outside boiler-cupboard into the bedroom to save a few metres' extension lead extension when mowing the grass. It'll be nothing a blanking-plate can't amateurishly conceal and we do probably need to do the grass at least once before handing the place over to the letting-agent.