Monday, 9 January 2017

Bounce it...

When spoken about, the first weekend after the Christmas and New Year hedonism is always preceded with the assumption of, 'Quiet one, this weekend?'  To which the answer is usually, 'Oh yes, nothing organised at all which is lovely'.

The husband and I had arranged a quiet one this weekend, with a quick visit to the cinema on Friday evening being all that was planned.  The rest of the weekend had been allocated to 'jobs'.  The husband's main job for the weekend was to fill in the large craters left by the remains of the massacred hedge which he yanked out last week.  I was getting more and more concerned that we might lose one of the dogs down the deeper one, or worse still, one of the neighbour's smaller children, so I had been pushing for this to be done. 

Several large bags of topsoil had been sitting on the drive for three days, looking like a badly sited cheap rockery, so all that was needed was to unload the soil, and push it across the part of lawn which resembled the Somme. My job was to reclaim my house back with copious amounts of washing, ironing and general moving of stuff which seems to have been allocated new resting places over Christmas....not on my watch matey...

Unfortunately, the weather and the Mother had other plans though...

As you know, it rained all day Sunday, so the husband's job was put on the back burner.  Speaking of his back burner, this is a virtual place where some jobs sit for a long time.  A new bathroom has been waiting there patiently for seven years, and the windscreen washer bottle in my car, although a relative newcomer at only four days, is starting to look like it may have the same longevity as the new bathroom.  So the topsoil job has to wait until the weather improves apparently - April, perhaps, just no commitment from the husband as to which April.

And then the Mother called.  Did the husband and I want to join her and Mr G for Sunday lunch at The Red Lion? (We are rapidly becoming this pub's best customers, and I am considering setting up a new company called Pimp my Pub).  Well of course we did.  It was only when the Mother said that they would pick us up and drive us home that I started hearing warning bells, because as you are all aware, she has a beautiful relationship with Shiraz, and doesn't like to drink alone...

Which is why I was found prostate on the sofa, having had two aspirins, nursing a headache and a tummy which was so full, I could have offered my services to the children around here as a SpaceHopper.  I am blaming the rhubarb gin (several times)....and the roast beef....and the apple crumble (rude not to)...and the cream...

I am now really concerned that my Pilates leggings may give up at the first bit of over-exertion on Tuesday evening, giving way with a large twang, and possibly having someone's eye out.  So I have decided that a little bit of extra help might be needed and I'm bringing out the vacuum knickers.  The ones which go from my neck to my knees which I like to call my Harvest Festival Knickers.

If you're wondering why, it's because everything will be 'safely gathered in'.

Well, I live in hope...

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