Slow hand...

It was a fairly quiet start to yesterday morning after the kids' Big Night Out.  Slowly, one by one, they materialised out of their bedrooms.  Bleary eyed, mussed up hair qand looqking like they would never drink again, daughters one and two and ELL were the question for wear.  The two boys had paced themselves on beer, not wanting to encourage another hangover (having already had six each this week already) but the girls had wanted to drink the pretty Mojitos which the bar had on their menu.  And herein lies the problem.  The waitress was one of three things:
1.  Stupid
2.  On her first day at work
3.  Related to a snail
Seeing how long it was taking her to make a single Mojito, the girls thought it best to order six at a time, so that they would have three on standby.  The boys and ELL were back at a very sensible midnight, but the two daughters carried on ordering the Slojitos, as I have renamed them, crawling through the front door around an hour later.
Yesterday morning when they were all up and dressed, they just 'hung out' with me and the husband, chatting about life in general.  It was so lovely to have them all back under one roof again, and I know that these times will happen less frequently.  However, life must go on, and the husband had a job to do.
You will remember how I spoke about the garage, and the fact that I was not confident in walking through the piled high crap to get to my freezer.  So yesterday, the husband and I started out clearing it out, risking life and limb to beat a path from the fridge to the back door.
Now the husband is a fan of The Flat Surface.  Give him one, and he will fill it, rather than putting tools, bike stuff etc back into the drawers they came from. Consequently, the eighteen feet of shelving which he thoughtfully put up when we moved in, is crammed full of half empty cans of paint, old receipts, screwdrivers, drills, empty water bottles and just about anything else you could imagine.  His clearing up was made up of simply moving everything a little closer to everything else, or piling things double height, which gave  him more flat surface to fill with all the crap on the floor.
We did manage to fill a couple of bin bags with rubbish, but this was mainly leaves and spider webs which I had swept up, once I could see the floor again.  Every now and again there was a happy little squeak from the husband, as he located something which he thought he'd lost.  But the biggest find was a distilling kit which he'd been bought several years ago. 
I have to go back some years now, and tell you about the husband's allotment, which was planted out with grape vines about eight years ago, with a view to making our own wine.  This year was the first one when a decent sized grape was produced, so last Sunday, the husband went over to the allotment and picked all grapes.  It took a couple of revoltingly sticky hours to juice them all, but we ended up with a gallon of grape juice. 
This is now fermenting in my utility room, sitting nicely between my ironing basket and the tin of dog food.  The husband is expecting something incredible in a few months' time, but I would be pleasantly surprised if it didn't rot the plastic distilling kit.
Blossom Hill......nothing to worry about here.....


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