79. More Reasons to be Cheerful…
– I woke up to find that InfantPhenomenon had not after all thrown over BikingLad in order to marry Gordon Brown and
– I spent a coupl
e of hours in the sunshine playing with my garden whilst listening to podcasts of In Our Time – (I’m partial to a bit of Melvyn) and
– I now know very slightly more than nothing about Classical Humanism (it was Roman) and the Medici family (they were Italian) and
– I’ve made a small impact on the jungle we inherited but still lots to get my teeth into and
– I wore my new fingerless gloves what Ma made me for Christmas and
– drank coffee from my new thermal mug what Secret Santa gave me and
– ate a toastie from the toastie-maker what Mrs Castle gave me and
– I’ve got a rather good detective novel on the
go and
– Ma wasn’t too traumatised by receiving fourteen garden gnomes for her birthday and
– Pa said at least it would be someone to talk to and
– we’ve managed to rearrange the bungalow to squeeze in Young Lochinvar and Ms Tintin while they look for alternative digs – preferably somewhere that doesn’t give you an electric shock when you turn on the light and
– there’s still a week of the Christmas holiday left and – Oh joy unconfined! Verily rejoice! –
– there’s a whole year before we have to do any more Christmas shopping.
Mind you, the 99p shop is already selling Creme Eggs.
74. One more for the road…
It’s a quarter to three. There’s no-one in the place except ActorLaddie and me. And Willow. ActorLaddie is curled up peacefully; dreaming, I expect, of livery companies. Don’t ask. Really, don’t ask. Willow, at a guess, is investigating the strange oval shape which has recently appeared on the lawn. I am lying on my back, hoping for a car to drive past and counting my blessings. One – ActorLaddie.
61. I love work: I could watch it for hours…
‘Twas on a Friday morning, Ocado came to call
Bringing all our shopping was a cheery chap called Paul.
We gave him lots of plastic bags; we’d built up quite a heap
But he stuffed them up the chimney and we had to call the …. Continue reading →
60. Give me just a little more time…
“It’s strange,” says DearHeart, as we try to attach the door, “but I keep thinking that you’ve retired.” DearHeart herself took an early retirement before moving to a bungalow. I guess her subconscious now links a lack of stairs with a general liberation from the corporate ladder.
I call Pa to tell him that we’re a nut short of a greenhouse, then we saunter round to raid his tool box. On the way, I realise that her subconscious must have Friended mine because I also can’t get my head around the prospect of having to stop playing houses in order to go and teach.
53. When they got to Owl’s old house…
… they found everybody there except Eeyore. Christopher Robin was telling them what to do, and Rabbit was telling them again directly afterwards, in case they hadn’t heard, and then they were all doing it. They had got a rope and were pulling Owl’s chairs and pictures and things out of his old house so as to be ready to put them into his new one. Kanga was down below tying the things on, and calling out to Owl, “You won’t want this dirty dish-cloth any more, will you, and what about this carpet, it’s all in holes,” and Owl was calling back indignantly, “Of course I do! It’s just a question of arranging the furniture properly, and it isn’t a dishcloth, it’s my shawl.”
“Sorry,” I croak, between coughs, “I’ll sleep in the spare room.”
“No, you won’t,” mumbles ActorLaddie.
For a micro-second, I’m touched by his solicitude and then I remember.
“Though if you can find the sofa bed, feel free,” he adds.
52. List, list, oh list
Friday 5th July
8 stone 13, alcohol units last night 1 (excellent), cigarettes nil (excellent), calorie intake last night lots (poor), strong coffees so far 2 (and counting)
9 am. Serious packing calls for serious measures. Moving to a house half the size of this one. ActorLaddie says we need to be calm, purposeful and proactive. Agree.
Downloaded time-management book for Kindle which suggests making of list of essential tasks, prioritising and working through in order. Essential defined as only tasks related to job in hand. Job in hand being getting everything prepared for removal men who arrive at 8 am in three days time. Need a list. Must on no account get distracted by writing blog.
Will go and make list. Coffee first.
9.30 am. Things to be done today:
Make list
Clear garage: box up pots etc, dump rubbish
Dismantle greenhouse and take to bungalow
Go through clothes, pack, excess to Oxfam
Go through stuff brought out of loft, box, dispose of excess
I will not get distracted by doing blog
Meet with electrician
Empty and sort cupboard under stairs
Post excess furniture on Freegle
Pack up books, and books, and books
Take unwanted books to Red Cross bookshop
Do not read them
Tell all re change of address
Go to dump
Take repeat prescription to chemist
Do not post blog until have done all above.
Do not get distracted by copy of Bridget Jones’s Diary
Oh bugger.
49. Under Starter’s Orders
Dear Mr Dickens,
I think it was most unfair of you to claim that the ‘one great aim of English Law is to make business for itself.’ (Apologies if that’s not quite right. A Levels were some time ago and the neurology waiting room inexplicably fails to have a copy of Bleak House to hand.)
39. Be it ever so humble
The old chap on the doorstep is called Roger and he’s holding an estate agents’ brochure of our house. We don’t recognise the name of the company but the photo of the front is definitely our street.
“I see you’ve sold,” he says, nodding at the board in the garden. “I’ve come all the way from Dorset hoping to see inside.”
After a bit of a chat, we invite him in and give him the tour. “It says in the brochure that the hall has oak panelled walls,” remarks Roger.
“It did. But we found them a bit gloomy and painted the hall white. We’ve still got the platter-rack though.”
“But no platters?”
“Afraid not. We did for some time have our overspill of paperback books on them but whenever GrannieBorders bashed into the skirting boards, they fell on her head. After she was nearly concussed by a Dorothy L Sayers, we just bought another bookcase.” Continue reading →
34. Turn and face the strain
When YoungLochinvar were nought but a nipper, our fridge stopped working. We ordered a replacement but the infant YL was distraught. “I liked the old fridge,” he wailed. In vain we explained that we also liked the old fridge in every respect apart from its inability to keep things cold. YL reproached us for our failure to keep faith with the white goods. He always did have an advanced vocabulary. Thus started Old Fridge Syndrome. More than a quarter of a century later it would be, of course, inappropriate and embarrassing of us to remind YoungLochinvar of O.F.S. every time he faces a major life change. So, naturally, we do. What else are parents for? Continue reading →
31. With two cats in the yard; life used to be so hard…
“When people look round your house,” says LittleSis, “they are actually considering whether they want to buy your life-style.” She’s a regular Kirsty-and-Phil, is my sister.
So, the people who haven’t made an offer on our house are actually rejecting our life-style: rejecting us, in fact. This bemuses me. Granted, the house does have the look of a library about it but then who wouldn’t want to live in a library?
Don’t answer – I’m feeling a bit raw about all this.
The Jelly Chronicles 