dear readers, what can i say? i have been remiss in the extreme in my reports of life in our neck of the woods. some readers have asked me if mrs deb kidnapped me and whisked me off to the arctic wastes of canada.
but no, all it is, as usual, is my inability to get herself seated in front of the keyboard with her mind on the job. part of the problem is that she seems to be sleeping better. i used to collar her to do my typing for me in the small hours when she was up laptopping because she couldn't sleep. but now she seems to be able to sleep all night with hardly a break. i suppose this is a good thing from the point of view of her health but it is a tad inconvenient.
added to the sleeping thing we have had the builders in. our builders had pretty much rebuilt our old house and no doubt thought that was the last they would see of us. but no. herself was paid a sum of money when she left her old job. it is called redundancy money. it seems that herself's job was no longer needed. i don't know if this was because all the bad people had suddenly seen the light and stopped selling crack and beating each other up. somehow i doubt it. but anyway, herself had money in the bank for the first time in years. she had to open a savings account to put it in so it didn't disappear into the void of the household finances. but the redundancy money has been burning a hole in the savings account.
herself was determined to have something to show for all the grief and stress she had been through. so she decided to spend the redundancy money on work to the new house. undoubtedly some things needed doing. about a week after moving into the new house some rather spectacular mushrooms appeared on the back door. after examining them the peeps deemed them unfit to have on toast. the back door had to go.
and while they were at it the peeps decided to have some french windows (i understand these are more commonly known as fenetres) put in the living room too. french windows are a bit of an essential for our house. all of us like the great outdoors. the fact that we now have a small outdoors has not detered us. my lady friend and i have to answer the calls of nature on a regular basis, my boy has to pretend to shoot pretend soldiers behind the pond and herself is something of a fresh air fiend. himself, although not so perky at the moment, enjoys a little chat with the fish.
"the fish are looking hungry!" he will say, putting a pinch of fish food into the pond. it seems to me that fish have no choice but to look hungry. they have to have their mouths open in order to breathe, or burble, or however it is they stay alive.
i digress. the fenetres were to be fitted. and while the builders were at it, a deck was planned as well. and of course, the new back doors, also fenetres. and then while they were here they rather unsportingly built a wall to keep my lady friend and i in and the local felines out. as you might imagine this all caused a bit of chaos. here you can see me trying to get a bit of shut-eye amongst it all.
while they were here herself said she would design them a website. so we had our poor builders up to their eyes in cement discussing the finer points of hexadecimal colour values and cascading style sheets with herself. as you might imagine the laptop has been red hot, but not with my blog.
while the builders are here, herself is in the habit of getting them to do little jobs that she has made a mess of, or can't manage for one reason or another. one such was the washing line. the old washing line used to be fixed to the fence. once the pond was built it ceased to be such a clever idea. quite a bit of the washing would be dangling over the pond. given the peeps penchant for disaster it was only a matter of time before they were pulling goldfish out of wet duvet covers. once the fence came down and the wall went up it was the ideal opportunity to put up an alternative means of drying clothes. a rotary airer was purchased.
"i'll put that in for you," said mick the builder, "let me know where you want it to go."
herself disappeared into the shed to get the airer. after a bit of a struggle it was opened up so the extent of its arms could be assessed. something was amiss. the airer was only 4 feet tall.
"all the clothes will drag on the ground," pointed out my boy, ever the scientist.
"there's another bit that goes on the bottom," explained herself, disappearing into the shed again to search for it. after some time she came out. she was not holding the other bit. she looked a bit crestfallen.
"you know when i was digging that trench and putting the wire to the fountain into conduit to stop us digging through it?"
"yes," said himself, expectantly.
"you know i said how fortunate it was that the people before us had left a metal hoover tube in the shed?"
"yes", said himself, rather more resignedly, knowing, i think, where this was heading.
"well, it wasn't a hoover tube. it was the bottom of the line." herself giggled nervously. the aforementioned tube, along with various bits of hollow curtain pole and other makeshift conduit had been carefully laid under the paving slabs, all the way to the house.
" i can't believe i did that!" laughed herself.
"i can." said himself. martin the builder looked as though he was with himself on this one, having known herself for some time.
a search was undertaken for an alternative. fortunately the parasol pole was exactly the right diameter. however it had one flaw. here you can see himself holding the line with the parasol pole attached.
have any of my readers spotted the problem? if i were a proper blogger i would offer a prize to the first person to write in with the answer. but i will put you out of your misery. the problem is that herself would need a ladder to put the washing out. and she is scared of heights.
after a debate about whether to cut the parasol pole to size (the peeps decided against this on the basis that they would then have to eat with their chins on the table due to the extra low parasol), and whether the shop could be persuaded to give them a new tube (this would have required a certain amount of subterfuge as to the whereabouts of the old tube so herself vetoed the plan) the airer was put away and the wet clothes were hung around on racks.
the following day, mick the builder returned to finish a few bits and bobs. being a nice builder he took pity on the peeps' predicament and fashioned a pole from the handle of his broom. so now the washing can flap in the breeze as nature intended.
and as for my blog, i now hope normal service will be resumed. herself has asked me to convey to my loyal readers her apologies for being such a poor secretary for me. i have told her in no uncertain terms that i will have to recruit someone else for the post if she carries on in this vein. watch this space...