Sorry that I’ve only just got around to blogging today. I know how you hang on my every word! Ha ha, yes, I’m joking. Of course I am. I have just felt so tired and brain-dead after that two-day migraine and all the painkillers. Wow! Flipping ‘eck.
It was a toss-up between burying myself on the sofa or writing this. Heads won, which, by the way, was the sofa, but I had to pop out into the garden to fetch the washing in and the little trip rejuvenated me. How could it not? The sun is shining. The birds are singing. The chucks bum has stopped bleeding and all is well in the world. Until the next time – obviously.
I think Richard is now trying to get rid of me by shocking me to death. We were all out in the garden this morning, chucks murdering worms, Chea getting stuck in the fence by attempting to go through it instead of round it, me turning the compost heap and Richard standing watching. That isn’t the bit that I refer to as Richard attempting to shock me to death.That’s normal. Richard standing watching! No, it’s this. He disappeared for ten minutes, returning with two cups of tea and casually announcing, ‘Would you like me to cut a hole in the chicken’s cage and put a wire frame up so that when you have to separate them they can still see each other?’
I clutched at my heart and almost scolded myself with the tea. Richard is never up for stuff like that without being asked and then, definitely not before he has to go to work. I didn’t narrow my eyes, peer at him and demand to know what he had done, no, I merely said, ‘Er …yes, that would be great. So the little sweetie set about fetching all his precious little tools from his pig-hole of a garage and within moments we had a little hive of activity going on.
Chea was still trying to figure out why she couldn’t get through the very same piece of fencing that she had literally raced through at the weekend when the helicopter nearly landed in the garden and frightened her half to death. One chuck was attempting to lay an egg amid the noise, while the other chuck (ex bleeding-bum chuck) was happily poohing on Richards drill set. I quickly cleaned it before he noticed. I don’t know why but he is a bit funny about that kind of thing. I slowly and quietly began to slip away before Richard could utter the dreaded words , ‘Do you think you could just hold this?’ – when Richard uttered the dreaded words,’Do you think you could just hold this.’
‘Just hold this,’ usually comprises of me having to apply my entire body-weight to the opposite side of the piece of wood he is screwing. That in itself is difficult enough, but he ALWAYS uses screws that are too long and every time, they come flying through the wood and pierce my hand and every time his response is the same,’ Oh, I didn’t realise they were too long.’
I did! I bloody realised it because they are always too long. No, I tell a lie. Sometimes they are too short and do bugger all. And the times I tell him. Lord what is it with daft people. Every time we go to B&Q I say, ‘Do we need any screws?’ And every time he says, ‘No, I’ve got some.’ So I say, ‘Yeah, I know you’ve got some – but are they the right ones.’ And he says, ‘Leave it too me. I know what I’ve got.’
However, it was a quickish job only requiring four screws. Obviously the first one was too long and I screamed, ‘It’s come through. It’s too sodding long! The chicken will rip its throat open on it – stupid!’ The drill was put into reverse. The screw was removed and a shorter one put in.
And that was that.
The tools were put away – and Richard has gone to work.
The sofa calls. Must answer.
Take care my lovelies x