There’s this funny (peculiar, not ha-ha) time when you’re a mum (I’m not using ‘parent’ because I can only speak from my mum zone), that your children’s ages stop going up, they stay suspended. This seems to start somewhere around 30 and without actually going back to 1980, when the first of Nan’s grand-litter were born, and then counting back in two’s before getting to the petite lopper, (although immediately before her arrival, I have to count back in 5, otherwise it just doesn’t work!) that I confidently remember everyone’s ages. So it came as a surprise to find out that the middle Sully celebrated a significant birthday yesterday. Surely not; a French plait and tutu, along with the polished wit and observational comedy skills of one of the very best acts on Live at the Apollo….. Seems such a short time ago that her and the top and bottom of her clan were quite literally sharing top and bottom holiday bunks around Europe with our clan. Many happy returns to Mrs F, herself a mum of two and presumably getting back as much as she good-humouredly gave!
The bathroom fixer is still fixing; a new joist here and a wastepipe there (I know you’re already humming “here a joist, there a joist…”). He discovered that the waste in our bathroom carrying Laura Mercier honey bath oil and its delightful fragrance from the bath at ours to the Stour or wherever it’s supposed to flow towards , was in fact never joined… to anything! All the secretions from every soaking, going vertically Status Quo style, down, down deeper and down…madness… and rotten joists. We always knew that bathroom wasn’t fit for purpose but hadn’t quite realised it was only fit for Rankin and a photoshoot!
The Golden One getting plenty of exercise today. The jet wash has made an appearance. For the GH that means double the fun. For me, it means double the dirt. He manages to get himself quite literally in the centre of the jet stream bouncing off the dirt spray from the path. This is not a pretty sight. There’s nothing about it that’s pretty, not the kitchen floor, or the pile of soggy towels or the GH himself. When he was born in that Welsh farmhouse in the valley, I’m certain that was his calling… We have elevated him to the level of country squire when what he really wanted was to be a country bumpkin, chewing straw and sleeping in the quagmire…where will it all end…, a clean path perhaps?
With a break from home schooling at the weekend the mum and the less cheeky two of the cheeky girls went for planned eye tests, it’s what you do when you’re mumming, keep checking everything’s still working like it’s supposed to. You don’t expect to be choosing specs for your canny 5 year old with an eye on fashion, so clearly she’s not going to be choosing frames from the small area that’s ‘included in the price’. Curly Sue is going to look cheekier than ever in a fortnight!
PJ’s off and serious clothes on (not quite uniform, but the elder of the gang is still seriously affronted about teacher calling Zoom class for 8.30am). C’mon, even I’m affronted! Joe Wicks gets away with 9am because it’s basically dancing around to music with your shlomps on and he’s just a cheeky chappy who it’s difficult to get annoyed with because he’s just sooo nice… But Maths and Literacy at 8.30am with your actual teacher and you’re not even lounging on the sofa with the tv on.. the times they really are a changin’. I’m guessing it also calls for a quick background clean up… especially if the cheekiest one had Cheerios for brekkie!
Talking of teachers, our bathroom fixer is a lovely young man by the name of Tris… that’s it Tris.. I have absolutely no idea why I keep calling him Tristan, I can only imagine it’s a remnant of my naughty boy days of which there really was a truly naughty boy called Tristan. For all I know maybe his friend’s called him Tris but he was only ever known to me and others as Tristan. I’m thinking every time I call the bathroom fixer Tristan, he thinks he’s getting a telling off. What’s even funnier is I heard Mr G call him Tristan earlier too, twice….No wonder he left early today!
Fresh air all round for the little people with scooters and dolls prams and trampolining becoming part of their daily routines, mums enjoying the outside too whilst dads are Zooming and lunching at home.
The ‘after’ aroma wafting through the homestead after wet dog supplied us with wet everything indoors…means a lot of candles lit again this evening. No wonder Jo Malone’s a millionaire!
Have just seen a picture of Curly Sue and her new eyes, yep, she looks cheeky!
Have you seen my Crocs? 