Kindred Spirits

 There has been some sadness in our house, Readers, over the last few days.  Dear, dear Grandad passed away on Friday night and this is very upsetting.  I liked Grandad a lot.  I’m not sure Grandad liked me a lot as he did sometimes tell me to bugger off, but we had so much in common.

Grandad and I both loved a good sofa.  We would happily spend hours reclining on one, preferably with our feet up, chatting away or even better sleeping.  We were both quite annoyed if people disturbed us while we were sleeping on the sofa, or trying to watch the Test Match.  (In fairness, this was probably more Grandad’s thing than mine.)

Grandad and I shared a common love of food, too.  We would both be at our happiest with a large plate of roast beef, and a good quality claret – no, that’s Grandad again, I just get water.  Oh how we were connoisseurs of fine cuisine.   We were both partial to a cheeseboard and infinitely preferred that to a sweet dessert.  Regular Readers will know that I have often run off with a large chunk of Cambozola, Brie or Cheddar, and Grandad was much the same with a really smelly Stilton.

Grandad and I also shared a distinct dislike of moving fast.  Neither of us could see the point.  Or washing up, come to that.

One day when he came to visit, Grandad sat on Gingercat.  Gingercat was on the sofa and had rather unfortunately blended in, so Grandad didn’t see him when he sat down.  It was very funny.   Grandad swore and I laughed.

So I’m very sorry that Grandad won’t be coming to visit any more, or telling me to bugger off.  This makes me even more melancholy than ever.  I will miss him dreadfully.

As you can imagine, it has been a little emotional here at times over the last week, and I did my best to cheer things along.  On Friday night, while some tearful phone calls were being made, I farted extraordinarily loudly and at length – this had the effect of sending Young Lad into fits of immature laughter, so that the sombre phone calls were accompanied by howls of mirth.  I wonder what the people on the other end of the phone thought.  Also, my anal glands have chosen the last few days to play up, so anyone visiting the house has been treated to an extra special smell of fish.  The good thing is that She has been too sad about Grandad to take me to the Evil Vet to have them drained, so I’ve just leaked away to my heart’s content.  I feel I do contribute to the general atmosphere of the house quite a lot.

It hasn’t all been sorrowful.  Lad has started back in Year 12 and has been very excited about having homework again, after nearly three months’ break from academia.  He couldn’t wait to crack on with it.  I’m not sure about the wisdom of studying Philosphy for A level – it really is going to crank up the level of Dinnertime Debates even more, and I fear for everyone’s sanity.  And what do you think?  Young Lad has also been doing some Philosophy at school, and there was a big discussion here on whether one would prefer more time, or money.  I didn’t join in, as there wasn’t a third option of food and this is the only one for which I would have voted.  But really, as if it wasn’t dreary enough before they both started learning Philosophy!

Oh yes, and the White Goods drama has been so funny this week!  After the exploding glass of the washing machine, and Error Code E24 on the dishwasher, we now have Error Code E09 on the dishwasher!  This is much more serious that E24, Friends.  E24 just meant it’s filthy.  E09 means the heating element is stuffed.  Plus there is brown water coming out the bottom of the tumble drier!  Really, you have to laugh.  That’s what She said.

Young Lad has done all his homework this weekend, most of which was covering books with sticky back plastic.  This is, in fact, the work of the devil and whoever invented sticky back plastic needs punching, She says, every year in September.  It would seem that covering books in sticky back plastic is right up at the top of World’s Most Hated Jobs.  Readers, if She took more time and perhaps looked at a Youtube tutorial, Young Lad’s books wouldn’t be in the wrinkled state they are.  In fact this year it has been far easier, because His sister was staying with us and said “I know a good method”, which she showed Young Lad.  Young Lad wasn’t really watching, so then She had to learn the new method which is, in fact, pretty good.  So the moaning about sticky back plastic is really not necessary.

The culinary standards have been about as high as ever here this week.  Feeling that He and his sister would need good nourishment after long days at the hospital, She went to all the effort of ripping open Tesco pizza boxes for them one night.  Then on Friday night, She decided they would need something warming and comforting and made a curry.  There were only a few slightly old vegetables lying around, and the result was less Balti and more Sludge.  It really did look poor.  Fancy being faced with that after a Difficult Day.

This morning He and Young Lad took me for a lovely walk, and tonight She took me for another one.  As we started down the narrow path, there were some people on bikes coming up and it was a clear case of them or us.  Somewhat cantankerously She decided to push on through and force the cyclists to wait for us.  This was regretted when we realised it was the Friendly Electrician and his Lovely Wife, and to be honest I’m amazed they bothered to stop and say hello, faced with the aggressive pushing down the path.  Honestly.

So here we are about to start another week.  I’m hoping that Meghan Markle is in the middle of reading my book now, as it must have reached her mid-week, or at least reached an aide of some sort and surely they will have passed it on.  Maybe they are reading it first, which is quite rude as it wasn’t addressed to them.  I would think I will hear from Meghan towards the end of next week. 

It’s the usual story here of endless work and school, plus a couple of evening meetings thrown in for good measure.  I might get to see my family for an hour next Friday afternoon, if they can be bothered.  In the meantime I’m off to dear, dear Ebony’s tomorrow, and may help her dig the flower bulbs up again.

See you soon.

In loving memory of Grandad.  1932-2018.