Categories: uncategorized
Date: 20 August 2006 19:13:34
It's been a windy week, in more ways than one.
Cycling and cereal bars excepted, it's been an 'interesting' few days. Poor Miffdog developed yet another of his tummy upsets on Wednesday night and from then until Thursday morning we needed all the Florence Nightingale skills we could muster. (And the ability to function with even less sleep than usual). Even after the vet had treated him, we were still in for a good bout of weeping and wailing (from the dog). The poor scrap was in such a bad state - and the only way he'd even begin to quieten down was with plenty of cuddles and reassurance. So 4.45 on Thursday morning saw me mopping up a pile of foaming green sick of Exorcist hue. (Although I've never seen the Exorcist, you understand :)) before leaving for work. You could hear his lamenting from the other side of the road. The poor neighbours must have thought that we were either harbouring a werewolf or that it was time to call in the RSPCA!
The two resident teenagers have been busy getting ready for their annual pilgrimage to the Carling Festival (aka Reading ) next week - so there's been much gathering of rucksacks, buying of baby wipes (an essential), and dire warnings to little brother by big sister about keeping all your possessions with you. (One year a friend of hers who'd gone back to their tent for a doze was woken up by someone who shoved a sword through the canvas and then proceeded to go through all her things). Oh and even direr warnings about the toilets (state of). The which will probably not bother little Miff one bit, as, to my certain knowledge he has rarely if ever used the boys loos at school; preferring to wait until he gets home. We live 5 mins from the school I should explain. Whether his cast-iron bladder will stay the course at Reading remains to be seen. I suppose the latter will depend on how much he's drunk, which in turn will depend on what his exam results turn out to be like. Three days to go and counting....
Meantime his sister is up in sunny Edinburgh for a gig and for the festival. We had a call from her this afternoon wanting to know what the family name of her late great Granny was and if we were entitled to a tartan.
Mr Miff is off to 'abroad' next week. Myself, well, nowhere as exotic as him. The bank holiday weekend sees me hopping in and out of the church's annual weekend away. Time was it used to be the highlight of my year. Now...let's just say, I'm older, wiser and by experience (bitter and otherwise) know that if I go there with no expectations whatsoever I may be pleasantly surprised.