Gin at Noon

Well, it sounds so much more acceptable and ... poetic ... than gin at 10:33 a.m, don't you think ? I've been helping someone out this week, doing some cleaning in their house, and had everything done by yesterday. It also involved having the carpets cleaned professionally. The chap did a great job, the carpets look almost new again.

Do you sense it? The forboding?

Can you see it ? Yes, that is the silhouette of trouble on the horizon.

I needed to use the vacuum cleaner to do the upstairs. In order to do that, I needed to empty the canister. The model looks something like this:


I figured it worked much like any other canister/cylinder vacuum, so I confidently detached the cylinder from the base, and then pushed the swizzly bit at the top from the 'lock' to 'unlock' position. There I stood for a couple of moments, trying to work out why the lid would not come off. It was only a couple of moments. That was because it took a couple of moments for the total filthy contents of the full cylinder to drop all over my feet - and all over the newly-cleaned and still damp carpet. A sailor would have been ashamed to use the words I used as I comprehensively cursed the (no-doubt) male designer.

Having bought a Halti for Sebastian, since my aging elbow joints in particular were complaining in a way that OTC ibuprofen couldn't pacify because of his pulling (mere untrained bad manners)


I had to return it to the store yesterday after only two days and 4 walks, as he had managed to snap both the Halti and his new lead. I'm happy to report that the customer service at Viking Aquatics was impeccable: no quibbles, an instant replacement of both items, in spite of me having lost the receipt.

Then an in-law called to tell me they were visiting today. It was someone I like, and whom we don't see at all often; so I quelled my screams and ran round like a nutter cleaning up my own house, which had been pretty much abandoned this week (see helping out someone else above) - so much so that what I thought was a new carpet was in fact a layer of Alsatian fur.




At least it wasn't mold - it's too cold right now. My mood having scared even the children into helping me, a record time later the house was again something we don't have to feel ashamed of. Which is when the in-law called to say that they weren't coming after all because of the road conditions. Then Destructo Boy knocked over his juice onto my newly-washed floor. Followed in short order by his hot chocolate.



No need for dilution. It's the reason he's still alive.

Trudging

As in the picture, our foundations are somewhat wonky - we are in the final week of term, and it is one week too long; most schools have already broken up. This winter has seemed interminable, and owing partly to that, ours is not the only family that has staggered from one illness right into the next. I begin to understand why the Scandinavians drink so much in spite of their heinous alcohol tax.

Still, we are expecting some familial visits over Easter - both MIL and DH's brother and wife plus new baby should be here at some point over the weekend. I just hope nobody drowns in the torrential rain on the journey up. And my nose was rubbed further in our bad weather by my father's most recent email, telling me his plans for Semana Santa pretty much were the beach every day.

Mini-Diva's parents' evening is this afternoon, and after our little anxiety hiccup earlier this term, I am expecting for everything to be back on track. She is Key Stage 1 and currently in advance of the targets. Her teacher has also announced her pregnancy, so all the parents no longer have to keep the secret, and Mini-Diva can gift her the baby things I've been making, the last of which is a plain baby cardigan in a multi-colored yarn I've used before:





We had a patch of sunlight last week, so I put Rosie, Mini-Diva's guinea pig, out for a run on the patio for a while. Jewel the rescue cat didn't know quite what to make of her - she looks and smells like prey, but has Attitude, so doesn't behave like prey ...



As you can see, the daffodils are still not out, so I am re-reading Beverley Nichols to re-inspire my enthusiasm for growing things; he is very witty, with a clever use of words, if a little .... purple ... at times. And of course a view of the pre-war world and its ways is fascinating.

I have cast on for a sweater, for the first time for myself ! It is an old pattern that used to be my Mother's, for Wendy Monaco (no longer produced); I have some Patons Flower Garden in the shade 'Freesia', which looks like roughly the same weight, to use instead. And I am ignoring (the pull is far too weak to call it resisting) the very vague nudge towards the kitchen that my friend Alison provides with her new blog, Hestia's Larder. I read it because I like her writing and am eternally curious about how my friends live, but I am not going there. Being a domestic goddess is highly over-rated, in my opinion.