Last night I actually managed to get out of the house and go Christmas shopping, myself and a friend were blown across the country, both of us with noses stuck to the windscreen trying to navigate through a howling gale. Sheets of rain overwhelming windscreen wipers on that annoying squeaking maximum mode. We had our priorities right, and stopped at a pub in the nearest town and saw off dinner first. Our main course was so enormous I was pleased not to have demolished a starter, and my face was a picture with the pudding option. My latest obsession is to be irritated with sloppy gluten free puddings I am offered, even though I have a rule of only one sweet thing a week...this does not stop me being annoyed on an almost daily basis, even though I have planned not to eat whatever it is in any case. The top three for sloppy awards of indifference are 1. Syllabub - wretch, gag etc. 2. Eton Mess - pah, no thanks. and 3. Lemon Posset - (violent dry retching) - please take it outside and fling it in the hedge etc. WHERE are the gluten free chocolate brownies, rant, shriek and foot stamp and kick etc.
The fact that I am fussing and irritated about minor detail is a sign that I am rather well at the moment for me! My lovely man has been great over the last month and his fevered DIY has kept me on hyper vigilant tenterhooks. At one point after the last gale, due to our front door being obliterated by foliage, which had descended from the top of the porch and obscured the door and front path, he decided after several days of the postman either appearing red faced - having crawled under it to reach the letter box, or his younger counterpart having given up and gone round to the back door to push parcels through the cat flap, that enough was enough. His temporary structure of poles holding up a vast weight of creeping tangled plants, ready to collapse every time anybody visited had caused deep alarm in the village. One morning last week he appeared in the guest bedroom where I had made a cozy den due our continuing house re decoration, and announced with a brisk hand clap, and an evil looking rope draped around himself, and much to my disgust - mud caked wellingtons, that operation porch was commencing. The windows were flung open and in high winds I was instructed to catch a weighted rope through the window and then get into bed with it and pull very hard until he said stop. Between you and me, I thought that women told to get in bed and pull hard on the end of a rope were normally in the throws of some sort of Victorian final stage labour. However job was done. I was rewarded with brandy coffee for my physical strength and constant expletive ridden running commentary.
The plants were soon back in place. concealing a particularly hideous porch that could, in my opinion, do with a sledge hammer at it. Perhaps a future PMT project. The fact that his brother then appeared a few days later, with an even worse expression on his face than my husband's, and pruned it back to four 9 inch decimated twigs is of course another story! His brother also feels most alarmed at the the clothes my man wears at times. Unfortunately with all the churning up of possessions currently going on in our house due to various rooms being part of operation bland. Endless decoration going on to entice house buyers in, my man accidentally discovered my special holding area for outfits I hope he won't notice are missing. I would never really throw anything away, but if something has sat in the special secret cupboard for a couple of years without him noticing, then it is safe to take it to be recycled. However I have been half rumbled and his reaction is like all his Christmas' at once as a seemingly endless selection of hideous garments are being gleefully re discovered and worn, including past relatives coats given an airing. He is overjoyed and keeps asking me to look at what he is wearing, 'darling look what I have discovered isn't it lovely etc! I may have to import a form of moth that feeds on man made fabrics in order to see it all off. My friend Dither's arrived and I noticed her paying special attention to his latest get up!
Dithers is a 'Gok Wan capsule wardrope' sort of lady and even the wrong shoe on a man will put her off even the most promising internet or speed dating companion. Luckily she was in the main totally distracted by what I was making for dinner, and three rooms with junk covered in dust sheets piled almost to the ceiling, and new shades of nothingness appearing in place of sky blue pink, neon lime green and teeth on edge crocus. Project Magnolia is in full swing. Over various dinners Dithers did keep me amused with her latest antics which appear to have been the near on obliteration of her local bowling centre with balls sent down neighouring runways instead of where she was supposed to be scoring points, and other ones sent down to crack into the barrier before it had even had a chance to lift. She did manage to improve the score of the people on the next lane as her stray ball got most of their skittles down in one. I think she should have been entered for shot put at the last Olympics, the woman does not know her own strength. Dithers also is very keen on lemon posset and syllabub etc and told me this in great detail early one morning, when thrusting a rose oil scented arm under my nose to see if I liked it... no I don't.. I detest rose oil although I do like the natural smell of roses. It is one of her endearing best friend habits to torture me like this when I first wake up. Also she has been in jury service which has made her go into private detective mode and has set off her love of reading thrillers again.
Dithers is an artist, and a very good one at that, but currently she is marooned in the most awful of offices surrounding by shrill shrieking juniors, endless unanswered telephones set on maximum, and a long queues of urgent people who approach her desk at three minute intervals needing help and supervision immediately. Hopefully the New Year will bring some over due commissions in. One has come in, she has to do this at a distance as the man in question is just as urgent about her as he is about the painting now over due! When it all becomes too much she disappears into deep day dreams where she is a part time housewife who paints in the afternoons and in the morning walks several gasping pug dogs on multi coloured leads. I thoroughly enjoyed her visit and am in particularly grateful for the liberal application of coco powder all over my kitchen, which appeared every time she went hunting for sugar or flour... which of course makes pre Christmas cupboard spring clean a priority! When it came to Sunday night, I felt I needed a change of scene so hot footed back to London to stay the night and see my eldest son.. one night like that felt like an entire holiday and re charged my batteries.
She did divulge late one evening that she had recently walked some dogs in a local London park who had become most over excited and had escaped from their harnesses to do high powered yapping at somebody else's poodle - this had caused mayhem and long drawn out lecture about disciplining small dogs. I shall be keeping a close eye on any further interest in pug ownership.
I rang her this morning and was amused to hear about her special alarm clock arrangements which are of course similar to mine...two clocks set up in different parts of her flat and a couple of phones in order to not sleep through arrival on time at jury service!
I am now officially looking forward to Christmas with my family and all the chaos it brings..today 'he' is off to get a tree - whether it will be big enough to actually hang anything on will be another thing, last week's attempt at this brought on knitted eyebrows and some humbug mithering!
ps my LDN and nutri thyroid etc is doing well! I got over my infection and antibiotic allergies with little damage and far less time taken up!