The friend who ran away to the country

An email from the friend who ran away to the country . Despite her defection at the start of the summer we still haven't managed to meet . She talks of the need for a "quality gossip" so we arrange a visit for Sunday . Nat will come as she and J's two girls I am reliably informed regard themselves as quasi sisters . Nat has plenty of half sisters but quasi versions of the species are in very short supply. With the men and the dogs it is less simple . Gem is a young Border Collie , unable to take her eye off her ball for a second . She rarely relaxes . Alice on the other hand is a lazy greyhound , uncomfortable in other people's homes unless and until she has managed to check out the soft furnishings and preferably has been allocated one ( a three seater ? ) all of her own . She doesn't really do sharing . She is too tall and spiny and bony for sitting or lying comfortably on the floor or so she would have us believe , though she will do that under sufferance at the wine bar rather than stay at home . Therein our dilemma .
Likewise the men .
A is sporty , runs about everywhere very fast and is usually seen flashing past in streamlined ( steamlined ? ) gear . I can safely say I've never had a conversation with him although he is always genial and friendly en passant so to speak .
When the family lived opposite us in former times ( oh happy days ) I would see him unpacking the car after a trip up a walking tour to the top of an icicle on a mountain in the Far Reaches of Scotland . Out of the car would come neat packages of spiked boots and fearsome looking little tents , evil little hammers and suchlike . Nothing looked fur lined or warm . I saw no flasks or cosy sleeping bags or decorative lampshades or friendly pictures such as I would need if I were camping in the wilds . No hot chocolate or croissants or books by Nigella .
And A in the country is unlikely to be any different to A at the seaside .

D on the other hand is happier behind the wheel of his car than walking or running anywhere , or perhaps more likely quietly watching Sunderland on his computer so as not to disturb anyone on the TV , texting his son , a Newcastle supporter a few barbed comments if appropriate .
I still recall overhearing him announcing on the phone to his son that we were going out for a walk and his son aghast " A walk ? You ? Why ? "

Now we have Alice D loves to see her run and enjoy the open spaces . But I still can't quite see Gem and Alice and A and D together for the time it will take J and me to have the quality gossip she has in mind . And somehow I dont think anybody is going to be arguing with me ...

Things to do today Book

The "Things to do today " book is a great invention .
Its a book of lists with the date at the top , the action required down the centre , the priory afforded to the left and to the right a tick box where you get to tick when the action is completed .

Ive always wanted one and recently D bought me and my sister one ... Ive never looked back and Ive never been so organised . Then , crunch time . You start to reply on it .
Assuming this couple of days ahead was a quiet one , I left the book unopened , holding the info in my head that I was meeting Michaela for coffee and maybe even a cake to celebrate the loss of over a stone in weight ( Low carb diet I love you ! ... oh hang on , maybe a cake is not the way to celebrate ... ? ) . Whilst I was out she asked me what I was doing next Friday , I checked and realised that not only did I have two forgotten appointments for tomorrow , I had also double booked myself in the morning , all through failing to use my memory like I used to .
Something will have to give ..... one of my friends is attending a seven am Breakfast Meeting where she has to talk about herself for a Minute then eat a vile breakfast which she will have to pay a vast sum for . All in the interests of business networking . Sounds worse than Alcoholics Anonymous to me I must say . I'm glad they didn't invite me and that CatCalling isnt that sort of business ..... at seven am I'd be far too busy talking to cats and feeding them vile breakfasts ( if anyone was on their hols at this time of year which of course mostly they aren't ) .
So at seven am I shall still be safely dossing on the bed under a pile of my own cats waiting for Alice to surface ( lazy greyhound wake up call gets later and later on my non Day Job days ) , reading my novel " Oystercatchers" by Susan Fletcher , wondering did she push her sister and put her into the coma or what ? and hoping I can get to have coffee with Business Meeting friend and lunch with DayJob Inspector friend and still make it to the optician with nat after school . Good job I had to open that Things to do Book or I'd have been well and truly in the poop .
Dementia ? Moi ?

Clinkerage .

I tap away on my laptop as my sister appears with her breakfast bowl of yoghurt spikled with all manner of healthy nubbins , nuts and seeds . D is reading a paper at my side . I download photos of some fat Greggs pastie eating seagulls as seen by Laura and me last night on the pier ) . I draw D's attention to the missing Z key , hoping he will mount a search as he is far more meticulous than me . I have already mussed a few papers around half heartedly in the hearth to no avail , and scratched around in Pearl's nether regions lest it should be concealed therein .
" Sleep all right ? " I ask L half heartedly and then invite her to view the seagulls pictures . She and D exchange a Look . Sorry , I say , have I already asked that ?

D is on hands and knees and Pearl is following him around sniffing his face gingerly as he bends and stoops , hunting the missing letter .
I fetch myself Greek yoghurt with raspberries and blueberries and on my return the armchair next to the laptop station has been dismantled and is littered with detritus . My sister is straining to see a year' s accumulation of lost ear rings , nail files , sweetie papers , biscuit crumbs and other assorted crud . " What is that word for all that kind of stuff ? " she muses ....

" None of it is mine " I add helpfully
" Clinkerage ? " she offers ?
Clinkerage ? I am agahast .....

" You know , the stuff that falls under a fire , dust is involved , ash .... "

Crap ! offers D firmly , I would call it crap . By this time he is sweeping it firmly into a dustpan whilst we look on , our noses back in our Sunday magazines .

Laura gives the appearance of reading but I know her mind is on higher things .

Not for nothing the Scrabble Champion of the North of All England .

Has she eaten the Z key ?

Removed it for fun ?

Who knows ?

The cat has made off with my " z" ....

and the Spam folder has eaten Sillyak's comment again .

What a start to the week !

My housekeeper has resigned

I had a professional coming to the house to interview me today ( social work type ) and couldn't be ar*ed to clean.. ie wash the porch floor or hoover the carpets ( and we had D's three year old grand daughter here so it was rather messy ) so was minded to say " I have heard it rumoured that my housekeeper has left but her resignation has not crossed my desk as such yet ..... " and leave that floating helpfully in the air ....

but she came in saying oh my what a terribly pretty house ( surveying the garden ) and quite took the wind out of my sails ...... so I kept stumm ..... or is it schtum ....

Funny that ... she was not seeing what I see .... the awful star shape that some naughty teen has gouged into the front door no doubt whilst waiting for one of us to answer ..... or the dust accumulated out there on the what-should-be-shiny-black-paint , or the hanging basket not quite hanging right as its on the wrong type of bracket and has been now for some thirteen years or so , or the cracked and mossly paving garden path or the .....
I could go on .

No , she saw the white house , the black front door , the winding nasturtiums , the charming herbs growing wild in the border , the delightful tiny lawn edged with this and that , the heavy urns scattered with colour and green , the sqeaking old gate , the mad old lavertera and the equally crazy hydrangea reminding her of her Grandma s house or some such and she thought Charming pretty house at the seaside . How wondrous !
I'm staying with that .....

The Unwelcome Visitors ....

Guess who we forgot when we de- flea'd ?

All has now been rectified thanks to Nat . That Piggie's nails need clipping though .

The truth was discovered at the weekend . Having spent almost fifty quid on flea treatments for the dog and the four cats , and done the business a while back , after which time I have had nil bites ( I only ever had two ) and D has had about five more ( he has had about ninety in total , being juicier than me ) , with an additional four during my absence and to cap it all on his Birthday , which was the day I left for Cardiff . ( And , ironically , the day Toby pulled the vase of flowers over twice , and the very same day Pearl peed on Alice's bed , though quite why remains a mystery . That she then piddled copiously on the spot on the sofa in D 's office where Alice had been reclining all day , the following day , suggests something of a vendetta against either Alice or D , seems a possible theory . Or maybe of course she was just missing me ? No one else has proposed that idea but I like it .) Theories aside , all this made considerably more work for D who was already attempting to run the household , feed three sets of Catcalls cats , run his business , feed and clothe Nat ( bacon sandwiches by eight am ) , as the sofa covers then needed washing as well as the dog bed , a not inconsiderable task . And whilst hopping about being bitten by a flea four times does not add to the fun . I am only glad at that stage I did not tell him I was ill .

This weekend , assuming all fleas were dead and gone and a thing of the past , we started on our usual guinea pig cleaning routine . Involving much carrying from the shed of straw hay sawdust blah blah and finally the catching of the piggies in their indoor cage and popping of them outdoors into their run whilst we wash out the cage under the power hose . Alleged power hose . We have to use the " shower setting " , as power hosing poo leads to serious "guinea pig torpedoes in the eye syndrome". Trust me . Its not pleasant . Its marginally less fun that watching Pearl piddle on the sofa knowing you are the one cleaning up .

D is the one to carry the Pigs outside as I am not good at catching them ..... he catches them holds each one individually close to his chest or ribs , pops into the run then lifts his top and there , on the skin , a Bite !

We look in horror !

It is the pigs who have the flea , not the cats or dog .....

Thirty more pounds later we have guinea pig flea stuff ..... and Nat applies it . The pigs make far less fuss then the rest put together .

This time , lets hope , is the end of them .

No more furious running upstairs for D after a bite , stripping off of the clothes , bagging everything , diving into the shower and then boil washing everything including the towel . No more inspecting the bed for every last little speck of dust . No combing the cats white fur in search of creatures . No raised heads every time the dog dares to scratch her ear.

Why do I feel so itchy all of a sudden ? ......