We've
been warned we'll be disturbed but it's 10am and we're still lying on
the inflatable mattress like beached wales. Clutching my throbbing
head, I'm relieved my virtual nephews have been kept at bay. Having
first woken an hour earlier, I could hear the excited cries of a six
year-old ready to start his day.
Slipping
in and out of sleep, I imagine my virtual brother and sister in-law
instructing both boys to leave their Uncle Andy and Auntie Leo alone
and to remain upstairs until they hear evidence of our waking. I've
already snuck out for my morning bathroom visit and know the sound of
the door is tempting fate. As if to confirm my suspicions, I hear a
small voice chirp inquiringly: “Is it morning yet?”
Upstairs
they're equally hung-over and unlike me have the added pressure of
keeping an energetic child entertained and away from their slumbering
guests. I wonder how long this amusing stand-off could last for if
there wasn't a Liverpool match to return to Leeds for. Feeling as rough as
I do, I visualise the entire family later watching TV with me still
marooned on the air bed in the centre of their living room.
Unfortunately there is a match and the stalemate is broken with The
Boy's cheeky very English request for morning tea. As he finishes
shouting up the stairs, cries of “Uncle Andy” are heard and our
Sunday begins.
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