The Chicken, The Lawnmower, The Hedgehog and Halloween

Owning a Patterdale terrier is not for the faint hearted!

If there is one thing about my life that brings me more grief and mither than anything else it's the bloody dog!.  The delinquent belongs to Bubble, and he came for Christmas a few years ago when my little boy wrote his letter to Santa.  There were two things on his list, a box of Lego and a dog.  Ever game and wanting to keep the magic of Christmas alive for another year, I bounced off to find a pup.

The delinquent came on Christmas eve at six weeks old and my life has never been the same since.  For anyone who ever watched the sitcom Shameless,  the delinquent is the Frank Gallagher of the dog world.  There is nothing he won't rob or steal, every piece of poo he finds, cow, fox or horse he either eats or rolls in, he has issues, is an accomplished escape artist and is rarely if ever sorry.  He adores bin day, deliberately cocking his leg on every single wheelie bin he can find on his morning school run, and likes the recycling boxes even better! He also comes from working dogs, needs a lot of exercise and thinks nothing at all about killing anything small and fluffy.

Walking to school involves taking a short cut over a brook, I used to let him off the lead so he could bounce about, and clip him back on at the other side, not anymore!  There is a lady at the end of the road who keeps chickens, periodically they escape and wander about generally having a very good time.  However, one particular day I was running to school to get Squeak when we came across the chickens all over the brook, not only did the delinquent chase one back to the coop, he then proceeded to shred it, in front of the owner. She was upset, I was devastated, there were tears all round.  It then got worse when she told me she had raised this chicken from a chick and was a rare heritage breed.  I offered to replace the chicken, she refused but said we could make a donation to a local dog rescue place. I bought flowers and a card and considered donating the dog! (Bubble donated £10). The delinquent is still not sorry and looks longingly at the chickens every time we walk past on a very short, very robust lead!

One of the delights of living in a small village is that a lot of the shops are dog friendly, you don't have to tie them up outside, and generally they keep a doggy treat or two behind the counter.  Our local hardware shop is just such a place.  The delinquent loves this shop, (he loves Bargain Booze for the same reason!), and will crawl on his belly all the way if he thinks there is the remotest possibility of a fuss and a treat. I have however banned him from ever showing his face in there ever again.  This particular day we had gone in to get something but there was unfortunately a bit of a queue so we had to wait our turn.  This meant no biscuit or fuss,  instead of being a nice dog and making his mummy proud - he proceeded to demonstrate his disgust by cocking his bloody leg all over the lawnmower display in the shop! To this day I don't think he "gets" why I was so traumatised!

Last winter it snowed a lot.  I set off to dig a path to the gate, and the delinquent had a really good time playing in the snow.  I turned round and found him digging a hole under the hedge, I thought nothing more about it till I looked up and found him batting what I thought was a muddy football around in the snow.  Closer inspection revealed a hibernating hedgehog! This then created all sorts of problems.  If I put Mrs Tiggywinkle back in the hole, I just knew he would dig her up again, if I put her in a box in the shed he would find her, and no way, not ever was I having her in the house.  I phoned various friends who have horses to see if they could adopt her, all to no avail.  I considered phoning the local otter sanctuary or the RSPCA.  Finally I put Mrs Tiggywinkle back in hole he had dug, covered her over the best way I could and left her to take her chances.  The delinquent was then banned from the front garden till the spring. The last time I checked she was not there so fingers crossed we will see her again.

The best Halloween we had that the kids remember involved the delinquent.  Halloween is a big deal here, with people decorating their houses, and kids of all ages turning up for "Trick or Treat".  This particular year my neighbour had had a very large broken down shed removed and there was a rats nest underneath it.  The delinquent had long ago found a way through the hedge and often went to visit the old guy when he got bored with my company so finding a rats nest for him was like all his Christmas's coming at once.

Squeak had her costume on ready to go out playing trick or treat and Bubble had a zombie mask on waiting to hand out sweets to anyone who came. Everything was ready and for once we looked like we were quite a nice normal family.  Then it all went horribly wrong. The door was being knocked on every few minutes, sweets and candy were being handed out and the delinquent was in the back garden.  (See - I can have a normal family life!) Next minute he trots proudly into the kitchen carrying the biggest dead rat you ever seen. Cue screams and profanities from me, Squeak laughing her head off and Bubble opening the door to two of the most angelic little witches I have ever seen, they must have been about 4 years old.  Bubble presents the bowl of sweets while I rush past with a dead rat in a dust pan!  ........... Trick or Treat anyone?

He does have his good points, and I don't think any of us would be without him, except perhaps sometimes....... when chickens, hedgehogs, lawnmowers or Halloween happen!

Thanks for reading

The Dowager, Diplomacy and Mothers Day

Today, for anyone who does not know, is Mothers Day.  This is a day of mixed feelings for me,  I love everything about Mothers day, when it comes to Bubble and Squeak, but it also means a visit to the Dowager. Not to visit on Mothering Sunday, would probably involve the will being changed and open warfare declared.

The Dowager makes Maggie Smiths version in Downton Abbey look like Mary Poppins (all raindrops on roses and whiskers on kittens). Not afraid to voice her opinion on anything and everything (even when she knows nothing at all about the subject) she can, at times come out with some corking one liners that leave you open mouthed and lost for words.  When I was young and daft I used to spend ages racking my brains for a really nice mothers day present, proudly present it, only to be told "that's nice dear".  Said present would then disappear never to be seen again.  Now I buy flowers and chocolates from Morrisons along with the rest of the world, and we are both much happier.  Today the Dowager was in a good mood so the visit went much more smoothly than I had anticipated.

Squeak who is 8, loves mothers day, she delights in planning and executing a series of surprises for her mum, all of which I love despite the hours and hours it takes to clean up afterwards.  6.30 am saw her wobbling up the stairs with a tray, she had put a tea towel on the tray in case she spilt anything, and made bacon and eggs and proper coffee!  Then she laid out a series of clues all around the house, each clue came with a handmade card or picture leading eventually to the front room where my flowers and cards were!  She has a big heart my girl and I hope she always will have.  Bubble is much more conventional but equally as thoughtful, he managed to smuggle a bouquet of flowers up to his room to surprise me with this morning, gave me the flowers and promptly disappeared playing minecraft!

Squeak does not see the world the way other people do and this has on occasions got us into quite a lot of trouble, she talked at a very early age and Squeak used to say what she saw. There was the occasion when she was 2 on holiday in Cornwall.  Walking down the beach in the rain we were looking in rock pools when she came across a couple doing the same thing.  Squeaks conversation with the strangers went like this.  "Hello my name is Squeak, and you are a really, really fat lady!"   Or the time she was in a supermarket, sitting in the trolley singing when an old lady came over to talk to her, this time she smiled and said "smelly old lady."  We have had men with big noses, and ladies with facial hair. I have lost count of the times I have stood next to my daughter and wanted the ground to open up and swallow me whole never to be seen again.

Squeak surpassed herself this week however, (it's my own fault for asking)  I was feeling pretty chuffed with myself as I had bought a pair of jeans a whole size smaller than I usually buy, so asked her if she thought I was getting slimmer.  After giving it some thought she quite seriously answered  "I think your diet is working a little bit - your belly does not hang over your knickers anymore"  Well I did ask!!

Thanks for reading

I should really write a bit about why I decided to write a blog, and (reluctantly) a bit about me.  I like blogs, I like reading about peoples lives and adventures, I like blogs about cooking, weight loss, crafts, and peoples lives, I like blogs that make me think, make me cry, make me smile or just generally let me spend a few minutes in the lives of  people I don't know.  I decided to write  a blog as it really is just an extension of writing a diary except it goes out into cyberspace for the whole world to see.  I don't want to write a blog about self improvement, you won't find any psycho babble, angst, or "woe is me" themes as I generally think other people are much better at that kind of thing than I am!  What I want to do is simply find something nice, and hopefully funny,  to say about my day.  Yesterdays post troubled me a lot as housework is just not interesting, I took a deep breath and wrote it anyway!

On to the bit about me - this is the bit I really don't want to write, not because I am ashamed of anything in my life, or because I am bigging myself up and making myself sound better than I am - but because it's simply not very interesting.  I suppose the best way to describe me would be "Alternative" - a word I hate at the moment as it seems to describe gimmicks and stuff that are just not.  My son describes me as a gothic hippy! I think the gothic bit is perhaps a tad unfair as my hair is currently a deep purple not black, I don't sleep in a coffin, neither do I have a rose garden which I can wander about aimlessly in a white nightie looking decorative and waiting for a vampire to kiss me. I think the hippy bit is probably fair as I have admitted to Bubble that he was nearly called "Nettle or Hawthorn!"  In my defence I did live on a narrowboat at the time and generally was living a somewhat "alternative" lifestyle.

I generally try to live and let live, try very hard not to judge people, and think the phrase " never judge a book by it's cover" is one that should be adopted in all schools.

I think that's enough about me.........for now!

Thanks for reading x

Warning!

Todays picture made me smile as this could have been written about Bubble.  Today he is bored - a sure sign he is getting better.  However - he still thinks he can lie on the sofa watching crap films and being waited on hand and foot,  I know he is my little boy, and I love him dearly, but at some point in his life he is going to leave home and fend for himself so I reckon the sooner he learns the easier my job will be.  The good news is it seems like the pain he is getting from shingles is finally easing off a bit.  I have been asking him how much pain he is in on a scale of 1-10 (with 10 being the most pain), he has downgraded his answer.  He originally decided the pain was an 8, when I said childbirth was an 8 he downgraded his pain scale to a 6. Nice to know my son does appreciate what women have to go through!

After yesterdays misadventure with the shopping,  I decided to stay home and do some housework.  I HATE housework with a passion,  I will do practically anything else rather than get the duster out.  I often wonder if this is a part of my teenage rebellion phase that I never grew out of.  The dowager duchess has always been houseproud, spending several hours each morning going through her cleaning routine, generally singing stirring hymns from church as she banishes grime and dirt away, but I am just not that bothered about clutter. Anyway after a week at home with a poorly boy my house resembles a 1970's student squat so it was with a heavy heart I decided to buck up and do something.  I failed miserably.  By the time I had managed to get the lounge and kitchen looking something like they are supposed to I had lost the will to live so decided the abyss of the upstairs could wait until tomorrow and had to eat biscuits!  Bang goes the diet.....

Last night was Squeaks music concert at school, off we went with the Dowager in tow and it really was a nice evening. It always amazes me how game children are to show off what they can do.  Squeak is trying to make her mind up about the piano.  She never practices and is not really enjoying it all that much and has been asking if she can give it up.  I am hoping that last night will have inspired her to continue as I think she will get a lot out of it once she masters it. Squeak is however mistress of her own destiny and despite what I say she will almost certainly do her own thing!

I am constantly amazed that so far people seem to enjoy what I am writing, so please do like and share, or even leave me a comment to tell me blogs about housework are boring!  I completely agree!!

I am enclosing my favorite poem for no particular reason, just felt it was appropriate.

Warning

When I am an old woman I shall wear purple
With a red hat which doesn't go, and doesn't suit me.
And I shall spend my pension on brandy and summer gloves
And satin sandals, and say we've no money for butter.
I shall sit down on the pavement when I'm tired
And gobble up samples in shops and press alarm bells
And run my stick along the public railings
And make up for the sobriety of my youth.
I shall go out in my slippers in the rain
And pick flowers in other people's gardens
And learn to spit.

You can wear terrible shirts and grow more fat
And eat three pounds of sausages at a go
Or only bread and pickle for a week
And hoard pens and pencils and beermats and things in boxes.

But now we must have clothes that keep us dry
And pay our rent and not swear in the street
And set a good example for the children.
We must have friends to dinner and read the papers.

But maybe I ought to practice a little now?
So people who know me are not too shocked and surprised
When suddenly I am old, and start to wear purple. 

Jenny Joseph

Thanks for reading.

40 something bitch: Bread

40 something bitch: Bread: Today has been a nightmare.  It's my own fault for going a bit demob crazy when I finally got out of the house, being cooped up for 4 ...

Bread

Today has been a nightmare.  It's my own fault for going a bit demob crazy when I finally got out of the house, being cooped up for 4 days solid does funny things me. I have been up and down the street more often than some people wash their hair.  It was not as if I was doing anything out of the ordinary, I just went food shopping!

I went to our local supermarket, paid a pound for the trolley, and set off shopping, FORGOT that I had walked as the car is at my brothers waiting for a new tyre.  So filled the trolley up, sent a text to 11 year old Bubble asking if he wanted a Disney DVD as they were on offer - the reply was "maybe...which one?"  I replied with a couple of titles, the response was fast and to the point  "Mum, I am 11 not 3!" So I took that as a NO and carried on round the aisles.  It was only when I had piled the shopping on the conveyor belt I realised the fatal flaw.  Shed loads of shopping and no car!

I looked around to see if there was anyone there that I knew, that I could beg a lift from, predictably there was no one in sight.  I can't believe what I did next.  Put the shopping in one of the trolley lockers next to cafe, lifted three bags out of it and walked home, dropped them off and went back for another 3, and then went back for the last 3! Finally got home to find the delinquent dog with his legs and eyes crossed as he really needed to go out.  So back out we went, and it rained.!  Got back home, to get a text from school saying our book order had arrived and could we collect it from the office?  Went to school to pick Squeak and the books up and it hailstoned on me!  This combined with fact our shopping cost twice as much as it normally does means a wet grumpy 40 something! (Guess what?  I have to go out again this evening as Squeak is playing the piano in a music concert!).

I meant todays blog to be all about diets, I am on a diet and so far it's going pretty well.  17 pounds lost! I don't lose spectacular amounts but week on week the scales go in the right direction and I am happy to just plod along doing my own thing.  However there are some things about dieting or healthy eating that make me really bloody grumpy.  The worst offender is the word "Alternative".  In my day Alternative meant grungy music and way out outfits, these days it seems to apply to anything gimmicky.  There is NO real alternative to Bread (believe me, I have scoured the shelves and read all the labels)  I do not want to mix my tuna fish with humous, greek yogurt, or anything else, it does not, nor will it ever  taste like mayonnaise.  New potatoes do not taste the same with low fat spread on them instead of butter, and buying cakes or biscuits with the name of well known dieting groups all over them is pointless.  Quorn - whilst being low fat is bloody tasteless and is not an alternative. There are loads of nice things you can eat, just please don't tell me that alternatives are worth bothering with.


Thanks for reading!
 

Bubble and Squeak

I thought this was appropriate as being housebound with a poorly boy has seen me spending the day playing with blogs rather than doing anything constructive

Bubble isn't very well at all.  He has shingles down his left arm and is off school, to be fair he is good company when he has enough pain killers, when they wear off he retreats into his duvet and whinges a lot. We have to avoid babies, pregnant women and people whose immune systems are compromised.  As pretty much everyone these days goes round with a sign on their heads telling us which they are, we have decided it's probably best to stay put!  Bubble points out that writing a blog will not in any way improve my social skills, and completely agreed with me when I said that was OK as I did not have any anyway! I am putting his cheeky comments down to illness!

Squeak is on a mission - She wants to decorate a cross for the school Easter competition,  I want her to use buttons and a glue gun, both of which we have and would not involve any extra expense.  Squeak wants to make and decorate a cake.  This is a problem - I can't bake!  Despite my numerous suggestions as to alternatives the girl is not for moving.  She has now extended her cake making campaign to include Grandma and spends her time suggesting they visit the shop for ingredients.  I think I may lose this one. I have visions of a wrecked kitchen, burnt frazzled hair, and a very proud offering which will probably end up in the dog.

The delinquent dog is very, very bored.  Todays tricks involved tipping the bin over to scavange what he could, and pinching pencils off the kitchen table, he gives himself away when I find chewed up pencils all the way up the stairs!

Thanks for reading xxx

After spending hours this morning cleaning up my act I think I am finally ready to blog to the world!  It was pointed out to me (very correctly) that perhaps I should make my story anonymous, so after much swearing at the screen I think I have finally achieved success!

So - single mum of 40 something, 2 children (Bubble and Squeak), deranged dog, 2 gerbils and about 3 million frogspawn currently lying in the plastic happy hippo that I still have not emptied from last year.

This blog is just a series of stories about my day,.........