How utterly ridiculous, Readers. In this futile attempt to pretend we live a simple country life, my walk was interrupted again today – this time not by boring blackberry-picking, but by equally dull conker collection. And the reason for this is just as ludicrous; to keep out any spiders that might be stupid enough to come into our house. Ah yes, ye olde wives’ tale that arachnids are deterred by the smell of horse chestnut, so long as you jab a sharp instrument into the conker to let the smell out. What utter nonsense. Anyway, there I was quite happily ready for a fast-paced sniff around when I was made to stand still for AGES while She faffed around in the leaves trying to spot a conker. She was a little vexed as some children had beaten us to it and we only found one, but there you go. There are still some horse chestnuts in their shells high up on the tree, so we just need a good wind to bring them down. Or a stick.
The things I have to put up with. It was a lovely walk other than that, with a speedy stomp up through Top Field to the theme tune from “Happy Days.” Most of you are too young, I realise. The rhythm of Happy Days (Sunday Monday, Happy Days, Tuesday Wednesday, Happy Days – you get the idea) was spoiled somewhat by the irritating slip slop noise from her flip-flops – this does get on one’s nerves after three miles. Why She can’t wear trainers or sensible walking boots like everyone else, I don’t know. It smelled particularly rabbitty in Top Field and I suspect there were a few rotting carcasses around, but of course I wasn’t given much chance to find them.
Someone has very helpfully decorated the bridge over the river, by spray-painting the railings red. This looks rather garish in an otherwise green and fertile location, but it was nice of them to be creative. The dog poo bin is hanging off, as well. Some people clearly don’t have enough to do.
Well that’s never a problem in my house, Readers! The Extra Working Hours are a complete nuisance and combined with TWO evening meetings at Lad’s school this week, I have barely set eyes on Pack Leader. I have made a small protest by sleeping on Young Lad’s bed instead of hers, which has nothing to do with the fact that Young Lad has put his fluffy Manchester City blanket on it. Poor Lad and Young Lad have been utterly neglected on the cuisine front, of course. There was a half-hearted pasta bake prepared for them on Thursday evening, but when He served it up He forgot about those little accompaniments called vegetables, so Lad and Young Lad had a very unexciting plate of pasta in tomato sauce. This is very poor parenting and I feel She could have found the time to chop up some broccoli before She went to work, as well.
The white goods debacle rumbles on. The dishwasher (error code E09 if you remember) cannot be used so there has been a return to the days of washing up. This hasn’t been altogether good-humoured. Dishwasher repair man isn’t coming until Wednesday so we have several more days of arguments about the washing up to get through yet.
Luckily my good friends have stepped into the breach this week, to give me a little company. I went to dear, dear Ebony’s house for two days and dear, dear Pippa’s house for one. Pippa was so excited to see me! Due to her “being on heat”or whatever, I haven’t been able to see Pippa for AGES so we bounded around like long-lost friends. Then I found a nice chair in the sunshine and had a sleep. Blow me down, Pippa’s Pack Leader took me for THREE walks that day! I know! I felt this was a little excessive but was too polite to say so. I could barely move in the evening.
This is annoying. Young Lad is sitting on the sofa with a big chunk of chocolate cake on a plate and I am leaning over him as far as I can. I’m trying to pluck up the courage to go in for a fast snatch, but he’s eating it really quickly. Selfish.
So due to the Extra Working Hours none of us have seen much of Pack Leader this week. Young Lad has managed to scrounge lifts off various people, especially the neighbours round the back, but has been forced to walk all the way home three days out of five. Lad is trying to get to grips with Year 12 in the sixth form, and is finding it hard to understand that “private study periods” don’t actually require walking into town to visit Macdonalds. I’m sure the penny will drop soon.
I do wonder about secondary education in today’s world, Readers. One of Young Lad’s lessons this week – a lesson called Resilience, I kid you not – involved writing a rap or poem about fixed mindset or growth mindset. What the actual heck? And don’t forget this follows on quickly from Bingo in Woodwork. Happily Young Lad will soon be starting Food Technology again, so there will be the stressy shouting the night before when he says he needs cornflour.
Lad decided to go to another party in a town far away last night, but this was a late decision at 7.30pm. The gentle, calm conversations with him about making plans a little further in advance and general bldy organisation seem to have fallen on deaf ears. When Lad returned today, he was made to do the hoovering as penance. This annoyed me as I was trying to sleep.
Next week looks as ridiculously busy as the past week has been. No doubt various neighbours will be drafted in to help out, and I really think they ought to start saying NO. On this subject, poor poor Lovelydor down the road was press-ganged into letting me in the garden one morning last week – this didn’t end well as Lovelydor forgot to bring her house keys with her, and was thus locked out. It was win- win for me, though, as I had some company for a couple of hours until somebody came to her rescue. Poor Lovelydor. You see, Friends, this is what happens when you rely on everyone’s goodwill all the time.
There was some tetchiness here last night. Lad had a hospital appointment in the afternoon which was supposed to be at 2.50, but Lad failed to read the letter properly or listen to Pack Leader when told to get the bus at 2pm and meet her at 2.40pm. Lad phoned from the bus station (which is quite near Madconalds as it happens) to say he was catching the 2.50 bus. This was clearly an error of judgement, Friends, as he would then be late for his appointment. He was. Then poor Lad couldn’t follow the signs to department A102 and became very disorientated. It’s all very well saying ‘but old ladies and people whose bldy mother tongue isn’t bldy English all manage to follow signs to departments in a bldy hospital,’ but this is very harsh on Lad. I can understand how confusing it would have been.
Yes, he managed to navigate his way through seven airports on their Amazing Trip (yawn) but a hospital can be very misleading. I don’t feel Lad needed the telling off he received and I don’t blame him for being rude. All was well that ended well, as Lad was finally seen at 5pm and they both thoroughly enjoyed sitting in the waiting room for two hours not speaking to each other. And then being stuck in bldy rush hour traffic. Her friend Gordon popped in last evening.
I’ve been dragged out for a second walk tonight over the Rec, but actually this was marvellous as I bumped into dear, dear Ebony. We chased balls and played like normal dogs, and I don’t feel She needed to make snarky comments like ‘are you sure that’s Russell?’ I do show my playful side occasionally, just not to my family. They depress me.
Golly I’m tired what with the two walks and leaning over Young Lad to try and snatch his chocolate cake.
Bye for now,