Wooden heart...

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I've been on the missing list this weekend, but for good reason.  As you know, this weekend the husband and I celebrated yet another wedding anniversary. What has been really lovely is that we have mostly kept to home, enjoying each other's company, walking our woofers and eating lovely food courtesy of the husband and his naked flame.  There have been brief interludes of non-anniversary stuff, such as breakfast with the family on Saturday and a most pleasant three hours spent leering at semi naked men with feathered trousers (Matthew Bourne Swan Lake fix) but for the most part, it's just been me and him.

As you all know, wood has featured quite strongly in our house over the past couple of months, with the husband's anniversary present to me being an oak pergola which he made himself.  I, not being so adept with a jigsaw, took to the internet, and personalized a cube of oak for him.  The husband loved it, and it now sits inside the pergola, where I can turn it round depending on which words I want to see that day.  Mind you, none of the six sides of the cube say anything along the lines of, 'You kept me awake all night with your snoring' or 'Where's the remote?' but I suppose that these wouldn't be fitting for a gesture of undying love.

Today has been another thing altogether.  

When I get a bee in my bonnet, there is no stopping me, and I reckon the husband's sigh of despair could have been heard several miles away when I mentioned to him that I needed a skip.

The first thing he would be worried about, is whether the ensuing clearance (for that was what was planned) would involve His Garage.  Well of course it did, so he has been ensconced in the garage all day basically moving things from one place to the next.  The problem is that the husband operates on the 'you never know when you might need that' policy, so there are items in that garage of his which a) don't work, b) have been superseded by something else (CDs for example), c) he has plans for or d) have no purpose in life (a box of twelve plastic spoons with three missing).

While he's been in His Garage, I've been clearing the house of twelve years of detritus.  Basically, this involved my office (which resembled Steptoe's Yard up to 3.00pm this afternoon) and the airing cupboard.

We didn't get a skip, but instead used the husband's trailer to take it all away.  For a bit of a lark, he took a photo of the trash mountain and sent it to the kids, with a message implying that it had all come out of daughter number two's bedroom, and we were ready to start the next of their bedrooms.

Funnily enough, not one of them thought we were joking...


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