I’ve been as busy as a little bee this morning buzzing here, there and everywhere and all in a previously worked-out order to take into account the different opening times of the different shops. Clever hey? Bet you didn’t realise I could be so organised?
Doctor’s surgery first to drop off the new prescription that will probably zombify (is that a word?) me more than usual. The pound shop for some silly Peppa Pig bits that Grace, my two-year old grandchild, loves. It’s her birthday on Sunday. Actually, now that I’ve just written Peppa Pig I think it’s actually Hello Kitty that she loves. Whatever – as they say. Peppa Pig will have to do. They are all pink! And I think it is horrifically incorrect to have a pig with two eyes on the same side of its face. What kind of message is that sending out?
Then it was good old Morrison’s, where, for the life of me, I couldn’t find the sea salt. Eventually I had to ask. I collected the lottery ticket on the way out and as I stood in the queue waiting, my attention was drawn to a notice. It said, “customers may be challenged to produce their ID.” I thought that a bit harsh and had visions of people being chased down the tomato sauce aisle, brought down and sat on until they produced ID. “Challenged?” Really? Surely requested would have sufficed?
Next was the pet shop for some corn for my one and only remaining chuck, Dust. It’s one of those bucket and scoop places. I think I over did the quantity somewhat, especially for one chicken, because as I got to the till and handed over the bucket the handle fell off and the mixed corn flew everywhere. It wasn’t my fault if their silly plastic buckets can’t hold half a ton of mixed corn. I’m shortly going to have a major clean and disinfect of Dust’s pent house. She is still looking sad and missing her friend, Beautiful, but the good news is the antibiotic seems to have worked and she is looking much better. I’m considering getting her a friend or two in the next week or so. The grim reaper appears to have relinquished his grasp on her so I think another chuck or two is in order.
Chea has been a pain in the butt for the last two days. After the ‘bringing the baby bird back alive’ episode I refused to let her out unsupervised so that’s meant much shorter sessions out in the garden. It’s Wimbledon for goodness sake. I can’t be expected to be skulking out there with her when Andy Murray needs support. He’s on again this afternoon so I have my popcorn at the ready. Lord knows when I’ll get round to cleaning out Dust’s emporium. It could be a short match. Andy had a terrible struggle playing the Spaniard, whose name frankly escapes me, as does many things these days. You didn’t need to be a lip reader to get the gist of what Andy screamed after losing the first two sets. Two years ago Murray would have dropped his head and given in and I thought he was going to do just that again but he didn’t. He battled on bravely and that was that – game, set and match.
I have given Chea the benefit of the doubt and just let her out on her own. If she brings another baby bird back, gulping its last breath, I am going to put on her Ebay!! Joke. Don’t bloody take me seriously. I’d never do that. Well, actually I might!
I guess, if I get my act together and get off here, I could start on the sterilisation of the chuck shed? Makes sense. My life is a real hoot at times – but I do have the tennis to look forward to.
I’m planning on letting Richard take me out for the day on Sunday, probably to the coast for a paddle, UNLESS Andy wins today and then I’ll have to stay glued to the TV.
Enjoy the weekend.
Take care my lovelies x