Skip to main content

Papa don't preach...

Words from a Bird.  Day 108

I am waiting for testosterone to hit the house with full impact.  Son number 1 has been playing rugby this afternoon, and the husband went to support.  This will mean that the whole match will have to be verbally regurgitated in real time over the course of the next two hours, while I sit here with a beatific smile on my face, wondering whether they'll notice if I leave home.  There will be talk of a bias ref (especially if they lose) and the husband will talk about how 'they were robbed'. 

With two male dogs in the house also, I crave the female company which is no longer in situ.  Daughter number 1 pops back every now and again, but not often enough to make a credible impact on the blue corner, and daughter number 2 won't be back home till June.

It's a problem when you don't have any females to talk to in the house.  Who can I discuss Tom Hiddleston, kissproof lipstick, padded bras and hair mousse with.  If I raise any of these subjects with the males in the house, I can guarantee that eyes will glaze over and there will be a job which all of a sudden, must be done immediately.  To date, I have managed to get a cupboard door mended, tyre pressures checked and dogs walked by using this method.

Since starting to write this, the wanderers have returned.  Son number 1 looks exactly how you would imagine after a game of rugby.  I have suggested a shower, which means that the mud will relocate from his shorts to the bathroom floor.

They did lose, and yes the referee did show bias on several occasions (told you).  There has also been a heated conversation about son number 1 being pulled off at half time (I dare you not to say the punch line to this comment) so the husband only got to see him play for 15 minutes. The husband is extremely good at telling us all what he would have done if he'd been the referee. I would have taken my flask and sat in the car, but the husband is made of stronger stuff it would seem.

So what do the two of them do once settled back into the lounge? They have put the rugby on....

Oh goody........

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

I can't stand the rain...

The bloody rain's back then...
I suppose that this is a blessing of some sorts as it means that my hosepipe will get a well earned weekend off, and the flowers won't be looking at me through the kitchen window, wondering whether there will be any chance of me getting off my derriere and giving them a drink sometime before the next millennium.  Talking of watering flowers, I haven't had any feedback from Mrs B next door as to the complete transformation of her front garden while she's been away.  I would imagine that after two glamorous weeks away, that she will have more than enough washing to do, and perhaps hasn't had the opportunity to do a full horticultural inspection as yet.
I finally got round to cleaning Charlie out yesterday afternoon. Armed with a bin liner and some sweet smelling multi surface cleaner, I gingerly opened the door.  Oh dear Lord....it is amazing just how much detritus eight adults can make over five and a half hours, and I soon realised that…

In da club...

Boy was I glad to see the end of this week.  What with the football, the weeping colleagues (just the male ones as the female variety were quite cock-a-hoop) and the incessant watering of myself as well as the allotment, my garden, and a neighbour's garden (a greenhouse, thirty tubs, four cacti, seven bowls of hedgehog water and a scoop of mealworms each day....in the hottest fortnight on record).  Throw into the mix some rather frustrating conversations with someone who shall go unnamed, I was very glad to leave Binland on Friday afternoon.
But there have been good things too.  And isn't that what life is about?  There's no point having good things if you don't have the bad to compare them to.
I spent a lovely two hours with the Mother on Thursday discussing plants, allotments and beetroot, and I'd like to think that the highlight of her afternoon was digging up a couple to take home for her dinner that night. Or maybe it was the contraband tomato I smuggled out …

I'm walking...

Having been knocked flattish by a sore throat and all of its accompanying delights, I was quite anxious as to whether I'd be able to rally for Schnauzerfest yesterday.  I'd pulled out all the stops with cakes and dog biscuits, and was desperate to do my favourite good cause justice.  

But oh happy day... I woke up yesterday feeling quite normal (stop laughing, you know what I mean) and I loaded the car and drove to Wittenham Clumps (yes, it's a real place!) Getting there early with Miss R and Mrs S we gave the dogs a quick walk before all the other walkers turned up.  The sky, which had been threatening an apocalypse, finally decided to show its good side, and the sun shone as we got ready for everyone else to turn up. 

Now I have been doing some serious whistle training with my two for the past month or so.  This basically means blowing a whistle and shaking a bag of cheese cubes, and I was optimistic about finally letting my two off so that they could run free with the res…