So, at last one of us has become the ‘responsible adult’ in a human/dog relationship around here and it has zero to do with our Golden One. Our blonde co-habitee has paired up with a well behaved (at the moment anyway), Golden Retriever that goes by the name of Ginger (of course it does!). Ginge is training to be a Guide Dog for the Blind and Blondie is sponsoring his journey for the next two years. How amazing that a Golden Retriever has the capacity to be someone’s eyes and safety blanket as well as trusted companion and we can’t succeed in getting our hairy hound to keep his paws firmly on the ground. It’s fair to say, I feel safer when the GO is asleep and content and I’m underneath my own safety blanket which I usually call a duvet! One of the pluses of the sponsorship arrangement is that it’s all done at a distance and Ginge doesn’t have to visit the homestead so will never know what japes he could be missing out on with the AG Massive ….phew….just as well. That would be 2 years of sponsorship wasted! On a serious note, yep, I sometimes do serious, hopefully one day Ginger will complete his training and change someone’s life for the better forever.

Obviously, that last sentence made my eyes water. I’m beginning to think I have a medical condition linked to any kind of emotion, (as Pauline over at M&S witnessed  on the Wise One and the Mum to Be’s moving day) ; happy, sad, excited, anxious, surprised…and they are just a few of the things that make my tear ducts glisten.  I swear if someone walked in now and offered me a cup of tea, (I really wish someone would), that I’d be struck by the niceness and cry! Like I’ve already said…strange times indeed. I used to think it was odd when my dad got tearful when Ken Dodd sung…I completely get it now, I’ve heard Ken Dodd sing, it made me cry too!

Over in Westminster, the update from the house is not good. Unfortunately, Bojo hears Zoom and his reflex action tells him it’s time to evacuate…not the building, that would be preferable; no, he evacuates his entire inners, like he’s been saving up for Zoom. “It’s not his poo time” said The leader of the House. IT. IS. NOT. HIS. POO. TIME! She means it. It might be Pampers for Bojo or Skype for get togethers in future!

We’re all doing sleep relays at the homestead. I’m doing the Marathon version as usual and the others are coming up behind me. Basically, there’s at least one of us up-always. Feels like being on an overnight train when you keep getting disturbed by someone using the bathroom, then washing their hands whilst singing Happy Birthday twice. Ok, the actual singing bit doesn’t happen but there’s a lot of water running through the pipes – clearly!

We got to have cake…YaY! Bright pink unicorn cake and cupcakes courtesy of the Cheeky Girls….yum, yum, yum. There are some doorstep deliveries that are very welcome and make a change from Hermes and DPD who are our most frequent visitors at the homestead. We’re building up a nice load of bonfire and woodburner fuel, and not an awful lot of saving the planet going on at the moment. I wouldn’t be surprised if we got a visit from Greta Thunberg for a telling off. We’ve also had Lamb samosas, Biscoff cake… Hmmm, I’m liking the food parcels and on the plus side, the containers are always recyclable!

We are experiencing a week of weather that anyone at Glastonbury 2016 will relate to I’m sure. Even the wellies are putting up a fight about going outdoors. The Golden One is obviously the exception. For him, the wetter the better, the dirtier, the smellier and the longest to dry out makes him a festival hound for sure. He would be in his actual element if we inserted a Retriever sized ‘cat flap’ into our front/back door so he could just pop in and out for treats and the odd telling off. I imagine we’d probably come across a few things in the kitchen we’d wished he hadn’t retrieved and brought to show us. Takes my mind back to hearing the eldest ginger blonde conversion shouting “Bloody dog” whilst trying to get two sprogs fed, watered and out of the house, picking up the debris of socks, flung bottle, tiny toys and half a departed toad out of the kitchen at 8am one wet and windy morning pre-apocalypse time…aaaaah, memories. Probably remembered by me somewhat more fondly than it would be for her!

I’m off to watch the Beeny’s make family life look idyllic in the country and guess what? I did get brought a cup of tea, and I didn’t cry, thanks Blondie, much appreciated!

The Golden one joining us, he loves Maple!

Getting the bathroom fixed is amazing but giving up my calm space, albeit temporarily, is not quite as amazing. My calm space, my quiet space, my thinking space and my sanctuary is on the banned list at the moment. I can understand why the Golden One speaks out when he comes up against a closed door. I’d never really thought of my bedroom fulfilling all those needs before but it really does. I think everyone should have a calm space’ even if it’s only a particular chair in a particular corner; even children… I realise ‘quiet’ doesn’t work for everyone but I guess there’s always ear plugs or earphones (maybe with calming sounds/music). The GO’s calm space is his bed too. That’s where he seems to retreat to when he’s had enough of us. I’ve tried putting it in a different place, I’ve even tried a second bed but he’s not interested. He’s chosen his calm space and that’s where it’s staying!

Next door acquiring 3 cute and lively puppies last week means there’s not a lot of calm time going on at the homestead right now. There’s a substantial amount of noise and an even more substantial amount of loose hound hair around that is plainly shed in the activity that takes place in running the length of the fence 3000 times a day. Unfortunately, for me at least, the GO holds on to his loose strands until he gains access to the front room. He creates his very own shaggy rug that even James Dyson can’t fix. Still, guess it counts as extra insulation and it is supposed to be cold this weekend….

Just reminded the Lopper of a funny event that occurred a few days back. She was looking pretty relaxed in her shlomps and a top knot, make-up free, looking about 14 years old. The very amiable Brendan who himself looked as if he might have been in (car) sales, but wasn’t, was filling in her details for his report, apologised when he came to the ‘occupation’ box. “Sorry. This stupid thing only lets you choose certain boxes so if you can just find something as near to what you do as possible” “Accountant” , the Lopper jumped in with before he’d finished the word ‘possible’. The lovely Brendan looked straight at the Lopper and relieved he hadn’t needed to recite the entire A-Z of UK occupations, (he’d hoped he could stop at reluctant student),  just said “Oh, ok”. Job done. She’s full of surprises…

Very quiet and eerily still out on the streets today… the irony of seeing these two signs on same building wasn’t lost on me, what strange times we are in…

The eldest Grand sproglet spent her Christmas money and bought baking paraphernalia which she has taken great pride and joy in choosing; Oh my, she’s growing up way too quickly! They’ve been watching Junior Bake Off and it’s rubbed off. I already know it’ll be mum clearing up the kitchen so hope those sugar treats are delicious and worth the calamity they’ll create! Curly Sue has adapted well to her new specs and has already got used to perching them fashionably on her lower nose, such a fashionista. The smallest sproglet, in Bramley Cottage is making her own presence very much known, she makes more noise than all of the Famous Five together – can’t be calling them that for much longer. Will have to think of a relevant collective term for ‘Six’, before we move on to The Magnificent Seven – obviously, I’ll be using that eventually.

Further along the Kent corridor, the popsicle and the Dodger (“Nuthin”), are here, there and everywhere; logs, streams, hills and the great outdoors beckoning them at every opportunity, those two need to keep crash helmets on permanently…watch out Bear Grylls, they’re coming after you!

Looking at the weather forecast for tonight and early doors tomorrow, we may just be in for a sprinkling of snow and that will most definitely produce some squeals of excitement, probably not from the Lopper but most certainly from the sproglets… this is where the Superdads will come into play whilst the mums feign jobs (to be fair, there are always jobs). They’ll be there at the end though when all the clothes come off in stiff wet heaps and hands, toes and milk need warming… Who doesn’t love a hot chocolate when they come in from the great outdoors on a cold frosty day- wonder if the brownies at Bramley Cottage will be ready by then?

Power has stayed on since Sunday at the Wise one and the mum to be’s new hideaway. I believe there’s some changes afoot and the designer wallpaper in the main bedroom is going; (not sure who the designer was exactly, but if he or she is still alive, they’re doing well, and they would definitely have had their jab by now!) I can already imagine that calm, quiet, thinking space materialising, well for a short time anyway…. After that, calm and quiet will be in snatched opportunities and rarely at the same time as each other. It will of course be worth it. Happy days…

Apparently Camilla and Ottilie are in the Top Ten of babies names ….hmmmm.

Happy Friday everyone! Find something to celebrate, there’s always something, even if not immediately obvious.

I’ve just given myself an idea for something to look for on Ebay and I’m already Superexcited at the thought. Now that really will be worth celebrating!

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!

Anything ‘new’ takes a bit of getting used to; new shoes, new mattress, new car, new job, new house… but there’s nothing quite as new as a new year. And the start to this one doesn’t even remotely resemble new years of old. This one is taking more than a bit of getting used to.

“If I could give you a hug I “would said Pauline. Not my best friend but I’m certainly seeing Pauline more than I’ve seen any of my friends in the last year or so. When staying in became the new going out, this isn’t quite what we’d envisaged….Nevertheless we still have much to be thankful for and to look forward to, as the circle of life remains round and constant.

Over in Westminster, Bojo, is causing mayhem already this year with his increasing demands and cries for attention. That passive expression…. and I believe those doe eyes, carry a steely determination that says he shouldn’t be messed with.  He’s making his presence truly felt. Never more so than when he decided to toss the rule book straight out of the window and upset the Leader of the House, that was a dangerous mistake. Whilst The Leader was involved in a Zoom conference in the Upper House, Bojo seized the opportunity (such a naughty Tory) to snatch and devour the eyes of The Leader who chanced upon ‘the remains’ at Zoom end. Contact lenses for now and an optician’s appointment coming up soon for new prescription glasses. I’m guessing it was early to bed for that short-legged, long eared hound. Hope Carrie is not quite so upset with her Bojo and his increasing demands.

Busy week for some… The Bexley golfers became the Gravesend troubadours  (I’m sure they must have whistled at least once), and seriously excelled at their sport and were still excelling 12 hours later..Amazing!  Hope those aches and creaks don’t stick around too long!

The Wise one and the Mum to Be are settled and cosy in their new homestead, cushions plumped and candles lit. The “Shall we/ shan’t we let the neighbourhood k now we’ve arrived?” debate got snatched from them when a well- timed power cut (unless you’re cooking Yorkshire puddings or a Mary Berry Victoria sponge, neither of which they were), sent all the curious residents on to the pavement where  salutations were exchanged and elbows were bumped, they’ve  definitely arrived.

I wonder if you can get a lifetime ban from Tesco online shopping?  I did it again. A shopping list that took 7 days to create sitting on worktop being added to,  still sitting there when shopping ‘closed’. Waking up at 12.15 am on Friday 8^th January and realising It’s an important day, took about 10 seconds for reality to hit. Oh bl—dy h-ll, I forgot to put the bin out and then…..OH NO, TESCO!

When the very kind man arrived 45 minutes late; I kept getting updates, he apologised to me first before I apologised right back 10 X times more profusely. (Seriously, 4 boxes of Hazy Jane, £20 plus a £4 delivery charge). I used the excuse of bathroom fixers van on drive to denote a problem with my waterworks and he kindly took the beers away (sorry Mr G) and decided to refund me, delivery charge and all. I PROMISE I will never do that again….pinkie promise.. because I always think it’s dangerous to say “I’ll never”.

Our golden hound is exercising all his vocal chords today, he appears to have many of varying degrees of sound but mostly loud! He’s never happier than when barking, we much prefer the more chilled version when we get it in tiny pockets. How come Monty is always smiling…..

Saw Pauline again today when I realised I needed tomato puree. I thought M&S might fleece me for about £2 a go but pleasantly surprised it’s a ‘basic’ so only 45p, obviously I bought 3! Anyway, found myself apologising again, this time to Pauline, the friendly M&S cashier. She wishes you well Wise one and Mum to Be, she obviously knows all about you following Thursday morning’s waterfall!

Happy 10^th January!

I really will have to make sure I wear something with pockets each day so I can carry my phone…not that I feel I need to be connected 24/7 but because I keep missing some really good pics of the Golden One doing what he does best…”nuthin” as our first boy says regularly when he’s most definitely doing “summin”…  Ah, just remembered pocket cameras.

He’s been chuffed to bits with himself for being accepted into the inner heart of the home , (the GO, not our first boy, he’s already in the zone, just not in our bubble), and being made to feel extra comfortable because he found a wonderfully large trough size vessel of water lovingly placed in the centre of the front room, obviously like most dog lovers do for their hounds, right? I mean dead centre of the room, perfectly placed for the tv, clearly so he got the best seat in the house before Sarah Beeny and her floppy haired Tooting brood (including Maple the dog and Bogey the cat, the GO loves them both equally), arrive to entertain us later on. Anyway, here’s me thinking the leak had stopped. No. Every time the bowl reaches a rainwater level commensurate with snout height, he drinks it. Saves emptying it I guess…And although the thirst is quenched, It does of course mean we still have a leaky ceiling.

Talking of water , the only reason the GO he has freedom to roam in otherwise daytime banned areas right now is because we’re trying to keep the bathroom fixer man upright by not allowing the GO to assault him with affection every time he emerges to visit his van. So there’s a complex mixture of open and closed doors from the bathroom to the front door, no, not that front door, the other one. He did manage to complete the Crystal Maze a short while ago and disappeared up the garden at breakneck speed with a plumbers ‘tool’ (ouch!) followed by a bathroom fixer, of which there are two today, unknown to the petite one and I until, a short time ago when we thought double vision might be a new ‘symptom’. They were followed by the petite one herself who was also travelling at breakneck speed, probably because her PT by Zoom session got cancelled and she was trying to get rid of the extra calories she’d consumed whilst munching through a Maltesers share pack. Anyway, mission accomplished; plumbers tool saved, bathroom fixer no.1 relieved and petite one 200 calories lighter…phew!

The sun got its hat on at around 3 today and dried up all the rain, what a difference an hour makes, never mind a day. Let’s hope it sticks around to save our ceiling and the contents of our movers’ home tomorrow. Saying goodbye to a happy place is always going to be tinged with a bit of sadness (and that was a pretty special abode), but WooHoo, there’s a garden to look after and a lawn to look forward to mowing, every cloud hey?!

They can’t wait to get in just to settle the sash window debate; has it? Hasn’t it? And will there/won’t there be a trainer room? Yep, a trainer room because when you have that many pairs, there’s no way a mere shoe rail or even cupboard will suffice: that amount needs library status with cataloguing and colour coordinating… I’m feeling worried for that pretty summerhouse at bottom of garden that our ‘mum to be’ had her eye on for a reading room…guess she could become librarian?

Pre-schoolers are trampolining and schoolers are schooling today (strangely, they weren’t keen on the idea of uniform to keep them focussed). Fairies are collecting teeth (hopefully), and new routines for new  year beginnings are taking root.  Presumably loungewear including dressing gown and fur slippers is the new ‘workwear’ range on ASOS which probably means when we can venture out out again in 2021 we’ll all be suited, booted and diamanted up to our eyeballs.

Our Disney Princesses will still be Princesses and our Artful Dodger, I’m sure will still be dodging;….. “nuthin”…

Wonder which brigade our newbie will be part of?

There’s a certain little ginger vixen (yep, there’s another one!) who will be desperate to teach the newbie all she knows and she already knows a lot… worrying.

Having wings clipped and getting confined to camp is not The Golden One’s favourite kind of day. When you’re King of the jungle, nothing is supposed to get in your way…..When the most interesting morsels you’ve eaten all day were in your dog bowl and not what you chose from God’s earth, you feel seriously deprived. it’s only then…. apparently…, you resort to logs ( from the pretty log pile and not the wood store, I know; very Kirsty Allsopp), sweatshirts from the clean washing pile and a multi coloured Croc from the extra multi-coloured Croc pile. They’re not for swallowing, just nibbling on. If he wanted to chew, he’d have found a preferably freshly washed pair of socks. The ladies long cotton ones £8.50 for two pairs ( the only socks I’ve actually bought myself for about 5 years! ) from M&S, yes, they went down well.

It’s a hard knock life…

Then all you have to do is find a quiet spot and lay very still, they never suspect a thing… initially. And then when they do, you just play dead, simples…It’s them that’s stupid.

Anyway, has it stopped raining yet? I’m starving!

WET WET WET…..and yes, although I’m happy to say Love is All Around Us, opening the back door (or is it the front door? – a family conundrum we just can’t agree on!) this morning and finding Marti and the boys singing their way through The Notting Hill playlist would have been the best twelfth day of Christmas EVER. What I was actually greeted with was actual wet. Everywhere a soggy slushy quagmire of wetness. Apparently there’s no such thing as bad weather, just bad clothing but we have every type of ‘weather the storm’ paraphernalia and there is nothing that we could find that would protect us from Monsoon Molly, nothing. So today will be an indoor day of stuff… The Golden One has retreated to barracks, wonder how long that will last….

I had pledged to maintain the decs in all (there were a lot!) their glory until our next family feast day but my sensible self has given me a talking to…. Looking forward is definitely the way to go and I will decorate for our next celebration and those decorations will be gleaming and bright and full of hope and optimism.  I’m sure there’ll be a rainbow or two, because after all, you can’t have a rainbow without the rain.

Doing indoors stuff was a pipe dream and after 152 trips to the place where baubles go to rest for another year, I’m pretty sure I’ve spent more time outdoors and wet than indoors and dry. And just when I thought it was all over I found The One that always manages to get away and it’s always one that really matters so can’t just be put randomly in an odd place hoping to be found; it has to go exactly where I’ll expect to find it, even though if I didn’t find it, I wouldn’t have noticed it was missing; if you know what I mean?

When stuff becomes vintage…..

Reindeers de-baubled, snowmen de-scarved, baubles from around the globe as well as closer to home wrapped in faded tissue once more and another year of memories preserved in vintage chocolate tins (of course)…aaahhhh, (stage note) gentle sigh.

5 hours down and I’ve just officially closed Christmas by making a last Yorkshire brew in my fave festive vessel, lovingly transported with its crockery siblings from a jazz weekend in Cork to ours. Have I told you I love Christmas?

There is still a minor (10 feet worth of minor), issue of removing the now naked fir tree from its last resting place before it makes its way to compost (yep, we did it again!). If the petite red-headed tree lopper thought she’d get out of an upper arm workout by going blonde, she’s very much mistaken and it’ll be here waiting for her when she resurfaces.

There are some remnants of the festive bubble still in existence: edible, calorific and scrumptious and they’re not sprouts! I’m almost certain that when the petite one got her festive treat from Fenchurch Street which was basically her own weight in sugar, they were expecting her to be sharing it with a family of at least 24, so looking at the depleted hamper now, I can only assume we have a mouse infestation, there can’t possibly be any other explanation. And further evidence comes from the chocolate tree in the kitchen; once heavily laden with all things bright and beautiful. Who would have thought those pesky rodents would be so partial to a Lindt?

Must remember to get some new weighing scales, think ours are having difficulty calibrating…or maybe the bathroom floor is uneven?

After a year of storytelling absence, you will be forgiven for assuming that the Golden One would now be a well behaved, compliant and respectful house mate who wipes his feet on entry and sits on his bed looking elegant and wistful until welly walking time…… As I said, you’re forgiven. He’s not.

He is approximately 35 Kilos of turbo engineered enthusiasm, 24/7. He loves people tiny and tall, all creatures both great and small as well as edible and completely inedible stuff of all shapes, colours, textures and tastes; unless of course, its dog food, he’s not quite so keen on that. I think it has something to do with the non-conformist attitude he adopted the same day he became part of The Clan. Wonder what he saw in us lot that he thought needed shaking up a bit….

We’ve read the books, listened to the audio tapes, gained friendly and helpful advice from those who know (they just don’t know ‘you know who’; try saying that after a Hazy Jane or two.) And we haven’t yet mastered the art of not jumping up, well we have but The Golden One most definitely hasn’t…sorry our little artful dodger, but he loves you, particularly as you’re a regular snacker and your head height is the most convenient for grab ‘n’ go.

 There’s a saying about there being “no such thing as a badly behaved dog, only badly behaved owners”, well we must be in need of an ASBO or two between us.

I’d imagined, after about 6 months of bedding in, we’d be planning restful barge holidays, meandering around Britains canals through the countryside, drinking Veuve and waving at landlubbers while our docile canine slept with one eye open whilst enjoying the cruise… hmmmmm, silly me.

2021 – We have arrived…. Happy New Year, Happy New House and Happy New baby on the way!

Looking forward is the way to go following a year of uncertainty, disappointments, ill health and even worse for some. Staying in has changed from choice to necessity and patience and virtues have become must-have qualities to survive the confinements of Lockdown.

Shiny Happy People

Our little people have all been stars, shiny bright sparkly stars just twinkling away the time, being their inquisitive, cheeky selves and getting on with growing and learning about all things worldly and wonderful and much like us growing tired of using the ’virus’ word. Let’s hope the most used word of 2021 is something inspirational and motivational and science allows us the freedom to roam, and I don’t mean the technical version!

H is seriously trying to outwit me. Even wearing a medallion that Tom Jones would be proud of , he is still able to creep around unwittingly and unfortunately also without the jingle jangle factor we were hoping for . He was last seen on a towel by the door in what looked like a deep and dreamful state and was then transported by what I can only imagine was via telepathy to the bathroom upstairs (by which he had to bypass 2 boxes perched precariously midway as part of the barricade system that has reduced our home to all the appeal of a Safestore unit with multiple closed doors and everything piled high.)

Why anyone, least of all the joint owner of an inquisitive puppy with the determination of the petite lopper trying to open a bottle of pink stuff, not Calpol, without a corkscrew), would leave not one or even two but …..six toilet rolls at ground zero to be admonished to the finest shred count in as many seconds as it counts to put the kettle on is my deepest regret.. today…so far.

Disappointed that for the last couple of years, we’ve not had much with our flowers and plants in the garden. The local wildlife seemed to move in and obliterate anything that resembled new life. They even climbed raised beds and dined out on our herbs… squirrels and rabbits with a penchant for fine dining. Anyway, we’d hoped that the arrival of the Golden One would provide enough scent and presence around the place to deter the furry vegans. When I say we’d hoped, we almost thought it was a given that this year, we’d be hosts to all things bright and beautiful without all creatures great and small. Little did we know that our own great creature would be partial to a new shoot or even better a bulb or two… or more. Yep, he knows where to find them and is not fazed by how deep they are planted. I hadn’t actually ever properly thought through where retrievers get their name but I get it now. They believe , much like St Anthony, that they are the finder of lost things and quite obviously, see it as their job to retrieve them for you, even when you haven’t actually lost them, but planted them carefully and lovingly to grow and be nurtured and admired…

Relaxing on a cosy sofa in front of the fire seems like a distance memory… Our idea of an evening just chillin’ is not his idea of fun. Once The Petite Lopper and our ‘bride to be’ made their retreat last weekend and The Golden One was left with us two, neither of whom offered up our laps for floor snuggles on request, he made his displeasure clear. We were pulled at, chewed on, pounced upon and glared at as if we were the the ultimate disappointment in parents. Mr G gave in and gave the sought after attention and cuddle time, I admit I gave in and took to my bed knowing it would all begin again in just a few hours.

On an absolute high note, he’s sleeping through the night and the early start isn’t quite as daunting if you’ve managed a longer run of undisturbed time. I’m hoping we’re slowly working towards a cup of tea in bed while he goes through his morning ablutions, that’s The Golden One not Mr G.

Getting out of the house these days is a military operation that haven’t quite been polished as yet. The drawstrings on my parka are getting longer by the day as H uses them as tugs. I haven’t quite worked out what order to do things in to make life simpler.. shoes, coat then bag or shoes last? Carrying the coat seems today’s best option… Yesterday, got to shop without bag, came back home only to realise, purse was in pocket all along. And I have no idea how I ended up going out fully dressed in warm clothes and boots but no socks!!How come people talk about baby brain but no one mentions puppy brain?

Apparently, according to the troops, H was about 3 times the size last week as he had been at Christmas, wonder if that tells us what to expect come Easter. We made it back to our local last Friday. 3 separate people commented on the size of his paws and how big he’s going to be when fully grown. It’s amazing how having a new puppy sparks conversation with people you wouldn’t ordinarily be drawn towards. How would we ever have known that the grieving widow who’d been married for 59 years to her Thames Lighterman husband , the love of her life, who died in her arms just before Christmas and who had a celebration of his life in our favourite watering hole, had got together all those years ago because she took a fancy to his rear end….A really lovely lady who was obviously quite a gal in her day. Thanks H, a real pleasure to be introduced through you…

From one end of the day to another… and I have the very worst ear worm.. “Do your ears hang low, do they wobble to and fro? Can you tie them in a knot, can you tie them in a bow?…..In a South American drawl. I’m sure I once described this cuddly beast as adorable. I’m now almost certain it comes alive at night to frighten evil spirits away. Get well soon Curly Sue…

All systems go at the homestead tonight after a slow start. Pestle and mortar, (well , half a pestle after a strenuous pounding some weeks back), doing its thing and spice drawer getting seriously depleted. We are beyond excited at experimenting with our new cook book. When things smell that good, how bad could they ever taste? I do think though that with the amount of garlic we’re using , we’ve got no chance of evil spirits ( do your ears hang low…..), coming anywhere any of us for the next months at least.

Interesting watching our first boy scaling new heights today… must remember to move the stepladder out of hallway before they come round tomorrow otherwise I fear he’ll be swinging from the chandeliers! Or maybe the cloth cap and broomstick were a giveaway and he’s a mini Bert ( Chim chimeney, chim chimeney, chim chim chimney) in the making.

Mr G been online today ordering new accessories for the boy band. Was just about to call them the chaps band but that might make you think there’s a group affliction taking hold…. Anyway, he’s excited so hopefully after a practise session or two, they’ll be ready to unleash themselves on the rest of us to review. Good luck chaps, I mean boys.

Happy birthday celebration weekend to you our favourite red headed petite tree lopper, bet that’s a height you never thought you’d reach!

David Attenborough has warned us about the amount of plastic in our oceans. I’m thinking of contacting him to highlight the amount of plastic in The Golden One’s stomach. He is a canine plastic recycling plant and the finished article is not ( at this moment in time anyway), reusable. That may sound as if we are negligible in our responsibility to keep him safe…The truth is that he can source every size colour and shape of plastic tut with a single lap of the garden, none of which is initially obvious to the human naked eye but lurking in the undergrowth. The objective is always to get it/them back to base; dog rounders I guess. It’s the journey back where the ultimate feast takes place and unless you’re Mo Farrar on a good day, you can’t stop him. This had a somewhat negative effect on H’s digestive system yesterday and caused a blockage in the tunnel (!) that only decided to right itself at 5am this morning. As Monday mornings go, I’m sure Mr G has had better starts.

I’ve had a clear out of a different kind today…stuff. Who needs it, what’s it for, why do we accumulate it? I’ll admit, I am drawn to attractive packaging, tins/boxes, I’m pretty sure I sometimes refer to them as being collectible… hmmmm. Why on earth did I actively source Quality Street in a tin for Christmas? A tin which now sits empty and is begging not to be discarded to the recycling bin. I’m pretty sure I paid more for this tin than I would have paid for an uglier but more environmentally friendly receptacle. And yes, of course I can use it for other things, but seriously, how many collectible tins does a girl need? I’m still stuck with ( amongst others), Charles and Di looking loved up on a toffee tin from the ‘80s that has developed sentimental value. And that’s the thing about things, stuff. It is just that. What evokes feeling and sentiment for some, can bypass others just as reverently. My collection of tapas dishes evoke no such sentiment. They really are just ‘things’. I’m always trying to pass some on but the best I’ve done is 3 to The Lopper. I was aiming for a full set of 6 ( isn’t a full set always 6?) Anyway, she was having none of it so I’m still stuck with enough of them to host a Spanish evening for the entire community.

I did consider paring down the cutlery drawer too. Ever since it was pointed out to me by one of the wise ones, that I have the biggest and fullest implement drawer in the world but I only ever use one knife! No answer for that, it’s true, I do. It’s a ridiculously long knife with a double serrated edge that can take me from chillies and garlic through to potatoes and squash. It sits proudly as King of the shiny things, and I quite like looking in the drawer to see what it is I need and then choosing the same one each time. Maybe that clear out is for another day.

There’s less cleaning and tidying generally to do since H arrived. Simply because we’ve reduced the size of our living accommodation by about an 1/8 so that he has less space and even less inclination to chew his way through his formative years. Obviously the dust will still be accumulating but we just can’t see it. I thought I’d entered Narnia this morning.. stars and shimmering sparkles in a dim light but it was actually the dining room I forgot we had; with the remnants of Christmas sadly lying around waiting to be discovered. I closed the door again.. it won’t be long til December.

We didn’t use to close doors. It’s funny how the simple act of closing a door can feel brutal and cold. I much prefer the atmosphere of open doors and spaces. It feels much kinder and liberating. Wonder if it feels the same from a canine perspective, I guess it does. He best curb his aim to destroy everything in his path pretty quickly if he wants to enjoy liberty!

I’ve always loved words and am usually quick to embrace new ones. ‘Freegan’ I get ( a person who only eats free food) , hey don’t we all know at least one of them! But ‘Woke’? I haven’t heard a single person use it with clarity. And in this house at this moment in time, it means only one thing and this morning, it happened at 5!