I suddenly realized today that it has been three weeks since my last online drone. Life has been busy, I have been backwards and forwards to the new house measuring things up and planning some radical changes. At the same time pretending that I am not doing that. For fear of deeply alarming the current elderly residents who have spent thirty years cultivating things to be just so, and feel it will stay that way. They are very sweet and have organized my husband and given him endless lessons on how not to ruin the electrics or the garden. My man stands with his hands on his hips looking at me very directly, saying helpful things like, 'we could live with that artex on the ceilings, and the tiles in the kitchen and bathrooms could grow on us' NO WE CAN'T and NO THEY WON'T! etc. I have had to employ the bad taste police and my friend Dithers is arriving tomorrow to help with such nonsense, and also bring another friend who has promised to re cover all my sofas in denim, my own idea, it will look so nice when it wears in places and will be easy to mend.
However after losing the last house we were due to move to overnight, until I have contracts under all noses and signed. I believe nothing. I try not to look at the low growing ground covering shrubs at the front of this perhaps new property - LOATHE etc. In place of those, as quickly as you could say, 'Mary has legged it to a new house' they will be dug up and taken to my friend's farm and replaced with many many hedge plants in order for my fantasy of extreme topiary to take place, something I have wanted to do for at least thirty years, but never got around to. I did notice some curtain tweaking down the road when I last visited. I may have been doing a sort of police woman's walk around the boundary as I worked out how many plants I would need, and I noticed a set of whitened knuckles gripping the edge of the curtains in the house opposite. I shall throw a party as soon as I arrive, invite all the neighbours, and play them some live music, this always works for us.
My man arrived back from Glastonbury with a week's worth of stubble, grinning inanely having reverted back to type and been hippified, and looking forward to a bath, he was keen to get straight in, and I had no need to herd him up the stairs with a cattle prod. He had kept me amused while there with his arrival on site with no bedding to lie on, this was one of two things he had to organize which went wrong, against a back drop of 'shoosh dear, I always manage without your input'. (Actually I packed everything for every type of weather). Night one was moaning about the lack of camping mats not packed, the next day's moan was lack of wellingtons for the mud. (Item two that he was in charge of)! He had packed two right feet boots, not even his own, one size 7 and one size 10. He is a size 8. After much fuss and protesting he went an purchased something truly awful. A pair of blue sandals which were one size too small. Of course I did not believe his excuse of no other sizes left. Actually as I suspected no sizes left at £3.00 a pair, but for £5.00 plenty.
His friends at the festival were horrified and disgusted at the same time and photographed his feet, especially for my benefit, wearing what were clearly ladies blue sandals with his toes draped over the front, ready to be stubbed at any second. He did then once the rain set in, buy himself rather a nice pair of walking boots, so probably a lucky find. Ever since his return he has wanted to wear them in order to march through the woods to show me how easy it is to walk to a nice pub from our possible new house, we get so hungry on all these walks that I then have to be taken out for a meal each time.
There will be no more marching regarding myself for a couple of days. This morning I lurched out of the back door, aware I was extra clumsy due to a headache I have, but on a determined errand to rid our garden of last night's bbq mess. I walked straight into bbq on legs, and pranged my little toe and broke it. His opinion I am sure it is not broken, you would be shrieking. At that point I did shriek as I pushed my toe which was out at right angles to my foot back into position and bound it to the next one. Shriek over, hospital is not a place for little toes, they would do the same! I would also have longer to get disgusted about it and would end up not letting anybody near me. I know my limitations. Just a little prick with a needle, yes I know you are doctor etc.
I had awoken feeling very irritated, probably the heat, and no I am not moaning about it, I do love the sunny weather, but the volume of flies that have descended on my rural village make one feel like a cow pat due to their intensity. I have set up a nasty blue zapping machine a sort of night club for flies they do go in there and don't come out again. I also keep shutting the doors at certain times of the day, with the added delight of my youngest teenager asking me to shut doors before I have finished going through them.
I have also managed to ruin the ends of most of my fingers. I am not cut out for making kebabs for the bbq, yes I did soak the wooden skewers first to prevent them catching on fire, but every few seconds. due to the slithery marinade and red onions, courgettes and halumi cheese. I stabbed the ends of my fingers getting the last bits on, I do it every time. We had a great time though, sitting outside under a thick cloud of ravenous mosquitos, with an acrid oil burner pumping out enough citronella fumes to have alerted the emergency services.
A lovely balmy time was had planning the move, and also waiting for it to rain again, so we can take all our old furniture around to the farm and burn it before we have the removal man around to work out the price. My carpet cleaning fuss is coming to an end and all cupboards have been cleaned, I think we are off very soon now. We still seem to be gaining more stuff in the house than we throw out or give away. The people buying our house came to dinner the other night, unusual I know, but I had so many things to give them and they wanted a lesson on all sorts or things so easier to do that. However we had no wine, or beer as we are both on an enforced cleanse due to attending a party last week-end, my two nights a week has gone for the time being so I can concentrate with my half a pea brain on he job in hand. The party was very wild and many people did dance on the tables for many hours. As fast as I clear objects out he buys or finds new things. More concertinas have appeared, and even more accordions, a couple of new ukeleles and guitars and now an ever increasing supply of mouth organs. This will be my bartering power for how many hedge plants needed for my new project of extreme and exciting topiary.
In the middle of all this, my young son bought himself a new drum kit so I now have two full sized ones in the room below my bedroom, two people playing them often when I am in bed, when bored with this, an electric piano played as Hammond Organ or sometimes creepily in my opinion as full church organ with bass amp turned up, which does nothing for my tattered nerves if I have dropped off early.
My husbands return from going AWOL at Glastonbury for a week has made him even more excited about live music, this is all very well, and I love it nearly all the time, until we have some sort of conversation. Every time I talk to him he is either - plucka plucka plucka at a ukelele, or squeezing a wheezing accordion trying to work out where the leaks are or my top current worst irritation tooting on a mouth organ. He then says later on in the day or week, that I have not told him about x y or z.
More fussy fuss soon.
Please don't just say 'signed' circulate also, this will only come about, if we ALL actually help: epetitions.direct.gov.uk/pe...
(Is there room down the garden to build a music room? ) 
xxx
