Pikachu wearing a fez and bowtie
Dear Diary. Went to a music festival called Festivalot. It's a festival for children.
We went to see a concert of a band called the Stay Homas, and when three men came out on the stage, I leaned over to Girlfriend and asked, "Is that the band?"
"No, they're the organisers."
Oh.
After the concert, we went to see a bunch of stalls run by local companies. It was there I made my own fridge magnet. I used the stall's pencil crayons and my own pen to draw the Tardis. Next to the Tardis, I drew Pikachu wearing a fez and bowtie. I wrote 'Pika Who'. I think it was an activity for children but the women running the stand didn't say no when I asked if they could make my drawing into a fridge magnet. In fact, when they handed me the magnet, they seemed happy to see a 37-year-old man so elated.
In the afternoon we drove to a B&B in the countryside. The parents of one of the moms from 2-year-old's class at nursery own the B&B and today they let us use it to have a get-together for all the children and parents in 2-year-old's class.
Immediately when we got there, I opened my database of people on my phone and refreshed my memory of the names of the children and their parents.
The first woman I spoke to said her name was Gloria.
"Is your husband Joan Perarnau?" I asked.
"How did you know that?" she said.
"I have everyone's names here." I showed her my phone.
"You've misspelled my son's surname," she said. She corrected the spelling for me. I don't know why she didn't call the police instead.
The Airbnb was a big country house in a green grassy field. There was a swimming pool with two old Scandinavian women sitting on deckchairs. I don't know how they felt when ten 2-year-old kids descended on the pool with their moms and dads.
One of the moms is a MILF, she's 33 and speaks seven languages. Today she was wearing a red bikini. There's no point in furthering my friendship with her or her husband though because they're moving to another town next month. And in fact, about half the kids are going to other nurseries next year, so it felt a bit pointless. I can't expend precious social energy making friends with people I'll never see again.
On the way home we stopped at Burger King. Girlfriend and 6-year-old went inside to get the food. I had been sitting in the car for half an hour when they finally returned.
"I'm never going to that Burger King again," said girlfriend. "They were so slow."
"I thought it was supposed to be fast food, not slow food," I joked.
What I don't understand is why doesn't the Burger King just behead the workers and put their heads on spikes? If he's the king, he can do what he wants.
We drove home. And what a responsibility driving is. 2-3 seconds of not paying attention and you hit a pedestrian. A pedestrian's body thrown onto your bonnet or run over by your tyres. Luckily I didn't hit anyone, but looking around at all these vulnerable people walking around without the same big metal armour I had made me feel protective of them.
When I got home, I ate my Burger King meal. My food was cold.
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