Readers, I was not happy the other day. There I was at dear, dear Ebony’s house trying to sleep in the sun but goodness me, the selfishness! Just look how much room Ebony is taking up on the garden seat. I actually had to stamp on her tail (look closely) to make her move over enough for me to lie down. Really, this is unacceptable. Thankfully dear, dear Ebony soon remembered her place and got off the garden seat so I could sprawl across it. Honestly.
It’s been a very busy few weeks, as you can tell from the lack of a blog. So much has happened, I don’t really know where to start. I have emptied lots of bins and strewn recycling across the garden, rolled in something dubious on the back lawn, dragged loads of rubbish under the dining room table (on several occasions) and moulted over everything. The latter can’t be my fault, surely.
On Tuesday this week I came back from dear, dear Ebony’s house to my own home- Friends, there was a window of an hour and a half before anyone else would be in! Now, the bedroom doors were all shut and the bin had been put out – in an unusually good effort of organisation – so I occupied myself by opening a kitchen cupboard and pulling out Tupperware boxes, a roll of kitchen foil and a box of pastry cutters. These made a pleasing clanging noise as they rolled all over the kitchen floor (which was filthy as usual). Then, on the bottom shelf, I found a box containing a large gin glass, miniature Gordon’s pink gin and small bottle of tonic. This was a present that somebody had given She. I dragged it into the lounge and ripped the cardboard off. I couldn’t find a way in to the bottle of gin, but I suspect that’s a good thing.
Anyway, the long and the short of it was that when She came in from work and saw the mess, I was shouted at. That didn’t bother me. What DID bother me, however, was that She decided not to clear up the mess I’d made as She wanted my New Buddy to see it when he popped round for the evening. For goodness’ sake, how petty! “New Buddy needs to see the real Russell blah blah blah, not the sickeningly well-behaved one he knows, blah blah blah, but the idiotic one I’ve had to put up with for years blah, blah,blah.” I think you get the picture. And so it was. New Buddy came round and saw the gin and tonic on the lounge floor and the pastry cutters over the kitchen floor, and had a mildly stern word with me about my behaviour. I refused to speak to him for the rest of the evening and sent him to Coventry.
Prior to all that, I had enjoyed a splendid weekend. On Saturday I went on a bus ride into town – it was the number 65 – and behaved impeccably, sitting nicely under the seat. Until I farted and stunk the bus out. I did this on the number 65 INTO town and on the number 65 coming BACK from town. Readers, everyone has to wear masks so it really isn’t a big deal and I’m sure it didn’t smell as bad as She and New Buddy made out. Then back at New Buddy’s house on the sofa, I lay with my nose towards his feet and my rear end towards his upper body/face. Unfortunately my flatulence continued apace, and wafted directly into the nasal cavities of New Buddy. I couldn’t help it and I do feel it was a little excessive of New Buddy to jump off the sofa and stand up.
Readers, the pubs are open!! Lockdown is nearly over and we can now sit in pub gardens, or at a table outside a cafe – the luxury of not having to perch on walls any more! Needless to say I have been dragged into town on numerous occasions to sit outside cafes or in pub gardens, even though it is barely above freezing and not a pleasant experience. I think some people are a) insane and b) trying to make a point. In addition to this, outdoor sport has re-started and last night saw us back at cricket training with Young Lad. Ah yes, Regular Readers will remember the halcyon years of my blogs from before Coronavirus, where Wednesdays were always on a tight bldy schedule, as She had to get back from work and get Young Lad out to cricket within minutes. The atmosphere here is always a little snappy on a Wednesday night.
We were all so excited to be back at cricket last night. I can’t tell you how much I have missed walking round the boundary for an hour and half every Wednesday night, eating bird poo and sometimes finding a dead bird. Or – and this used to be splendid – going into the clubhouse and hoovering up all the crisps from under the chairs. Alas, last night the clubhouse remained shut due to coronavirus, so I had to content myself with the boundary. I had quite a result, actually, as I found some tiger bread to go with the bird poo.
The excitement of being back at cricket wore off after a little while, due to the sub zero temperature. As there was no way of taking refuge in the clubhouse with merriment and jollity to warm us, we had no choice but to walk repeatedly, and in She’s case, dejectedly, round the boundary or sit on a cold plastic chair to watch the action in the nets. Readers, it was FREEZING. I wanted to go home to my armchair and made this clear.
I think my face shows the level of my misery.
To be fair, Young Lad thoroughly enjoyed his first cricket training session for 18 months, and barely paused for breath the entire time. Young Lad is very good at directing operations and telling everyone what they should be doing – well done, Young Lad. Keep your arm straight when you bowl, though.
Next week there is another Wednesday night cricket training session AND, potentially, a cricket match the night after! I do hope it warms up a bit. And that the bar opens.
Young Lad had a triumph in Food Tech last week, Friends. He had to make dough balls, and She found a BBC Good Food recipe for him and weighed out the ingredients whilst Young Lad watched Top Gear – look, great chefs have a commis chef to do the donkey work – and then Young Lad took the ingredients to school and made EXCELLENT dough balls. They were big, soft, doughy and gorgeous. They were much better than the loaf of bread Young Lad had previously baked in Food Tech, which was something of a brick , and Young Lad has definitely found his stride with smaller packages of dough. Well done, Young Lad.
Lad is away at university – he had taken to popping back rather often but it has been gently suggested to him that he stays put. This may or may not have something to do with him cooking meals at 2.30am when he’s home and getting on people’s nerves. Lad is very busy as he has a lot of Deadlines to meet, and some Important Exams, and don’t forget the poxy laundry facilities which cause so much distress of a week. Poor Lad. His life is very hard at times. His bedroom door is kept shut and I’m not allowed on his bed to scrunch up the duvet. This is ridiculous. There is a perfectly good double bed on which I could be spreading out, and it’s sitting there unused.
Readers, you couldn’t make up the level of incompetence in this house at times. On Monday, She left for work five minutes early and was very smug as She had put Lovelydor’s birthday card through the door and hung up a new hanging basket, all by 7.15am. She had booked a table (outside of course) at Prezzo for Lovelydor, She and Young Lad in the evening to celebrate Lovelydor’s birthday.
Lovelydor was rather bemused by all this as it wasn’t her birthday.
Lovelydor’s birthday was several days later. We have known Lovelydor for over twenty years and therefore known the date of her birthday for over twenty years. Give me strength.
And then there are the items that are mislaid. On a daily basis it will be phone chargers that have vanished, an item of clothing that can’t be tracked down, a piece of paper with a password scribbled on it and – this one is quite bizarre- the metal sink strainer thing. This has disappeared off the face of the earth. How can anyone lose a solid round metal thing with holes in it, from the kitchen sink? But lost it is. How we pray at the temple of Amazon.
On top of this, She felt it would be lovely, as soon as the pub gardens reopened, for New Buddy and New Buddy The Younger to come over for an evening dog walk, so we could walk into town and sit nicely in a pub garden surrounded by laughter and the tinkling of glasses. We started off with a game of ‘Russell fetch the ball’ over the Rec (New Buddy The Younger is much better at this than they are) and then wandered happily into town, where there were bound to be several pubs open – how would we choose which one?
Nowhere was open.
After a very long walk investigating each of the hostelries in the town centre (the only one open sounded very rough and I am a pedigree, after all) we had to walk all the way home to the pub at the top of the road, which doesn’t have a nice garden but did at least have drink and peanuts. It wasn’t quite the bonhomie-filled adventure that had been envisaged, but beggars can’t be choosers.
The Stupid Collared Doves are still endlessly making out on the back fence – really, they are very attached to one another and anyone less cynical might find this rather beautiful. They sit on the fence and one rests his head on the other one’s back – I can’t work out which gender is which – and it would appear they are talking about profound things like the meaning of life. Which of course they aren’t as they are incredibly stupid and do things like fly smack bang into the French windows. They have built a nest in the large conifer next to the French windows so let’s hope they choose the right direction when flying out of the nest.
Readers, I’m exhausted. What with a long, cold evening at cricket last night and daycare at dear Ebony’s every day this week (dear Pippa is away in her camper van) I really am ready for my bed. I’m hoping to be having a trip in a campervan myself soon – in fact a large 2 man sleeping bag was purchased recently for me, for this very reason. I think it was for me. I’m sure it must have been.
Enjoy those freezing cold pub gardens and cafe outside seating Friends, or if you have more sense, curl up in the warm and wait two more weeks for indoor hospitality to open.
See you soon,