Convenient Amnesia And Too Much Top And Tailing.

Hi All,

OK, riddle me this. How does someone (Richard) remove the electric blanket from the bed and with it the mattress protector and then not know what he’s done with the said mattress protector? How is that possible?

We had a new mattress delivered the other day. We change them frequently, every two or three years. When I stripped off the old bed I realised that the mattress protector was missing and when I questioned (grilled) Richard about it, he said he didn’t know what he’d done with it when he’d removed the electric blanket. How can you not know what you’ve done with it? He said that perhaps it was in the bag with the electric blanket, so whilst he was at work I attempted to track it down. No luck. When he came home I asked him again what he’d done with it.

‘I don’t know,’ he said.

‘Of course you know,’ I bellowed.  ‘You can’t lose a sodding king size mattress protector. It’s hardly a handkerchief!’

Apparently that wasn’t true – because he had lost it. So I said, ‘YOU’VE thrown it away so YOU can go to the shop and get a new one before the new mattress arrives.’

As you know, his mum, Betty, is still in hospital so instead of fetching a mattress protector after work he beetled off to see her. That night the new mattress was unprotected.

The following morning I stropped off to get one myself and had to fill in the shop assistant with the whole story of the previously lost one. I said I needed to get one on quickly because there was every chance that I’d be stabbing Richard whilst he slept if he didn’t stop denying doing things and I didn’t want to get blood on the new mattress. She looked slightly disturbed as she handed me my purchase. You know the look? The one that involves flitting eyes and a mouth that doesn’t quite smile but twitches uneasily?

He still denies throwing it away but can’t remember what he did with it! He’s probably ripped it into cloths to polish stupid Betsy Land Rover! Talking of which, the poor old girl has been deserted since breaking down at work. Richard has emptied the petrol tank and as soon as he gets a minute he needs to replace it. The visits to his mum are endless and tiring – both physically and mentally. It gives us little time for other things. Although, yesterday, Richard went to see her on his own and I stayed here to finish off the jam making.HPIM3056

I couldn’t leave the blackcurrants any longer. They were, as they say, ripe for the picking. I made that in the morning and then, whilst the chucks were out, I picked the gooseberries and turned those into jam in the afternoon – after spending an hour and a half top and tailing them. What a mindless task.

Still, it’s done now. Blackcurrant jam. Gooseberry jam. And gooseberry and ginger jam. I may have over done the sugar on the gooseberry jam. It did seem rather a lot and it tastes like pure sugar with a bit of a gooseberry flavour thrown in as an afterthought. Oh well, as I have said a hundred times before, you can’t win them all.

The chucks are all settling in together quite nicely now. Flight still has a rapier-like thrust at Little now and then but Little has learnt that I am her protector and sticks close to me when Flight is around. It’s funny but some people think that you can’t have a garden and chucks. What I mean is, that chucks destroy it and rip out every shred of vegetation. It isn’t really true. The picture shows one of the bits of garden where the chucks are allowed and as you can see it is still established and standing. I merely net around the base of the more delicate plants and they survive quite happily. Beyond this bit of lawn/shrubby area is the veggie and fruit patch. I don’t let them in that bit until the autumn, when the veg is over.

A section of garden where the chucks are allowed.
A section of garden where the chucks are allowed.

I don’t know how successful the cabbages are going to be this year. They are as big as small palm trees but they are being attacked from above by cabbage white butterflies. Chea was doing her best to swot a few for me, as they dropped their undercarriage and soared in. They were even managing to find their way underneath the protective netting that I have rigged up. I’m not sure which is worse – butterflies laying their eggs on the beautiful, perfect leaves or Chea throwing herself across them in an attempt to catch the butterflies. It’s a constant battle. My garden is a war zone. Casualties and fatalities appear on a daily basis. There is always some underhanded little critter waiting to cause havoc.

Talking of which – some shit head hacked my twitter account two days ago. It’s a shame these morons haven’t anything better to do like – get a life. A real life. Away from the virtual world. Idiots. If anyone received anything from me that appeared weird (more weird than usual that is!) please ignore it.

Right, off to declare war on the cabbage whites … before I declare war on one or two ‘real’ people who are peeing me off right now. I tell you … the closer people are to you the harder the body punch!


New chuck - Little.
New chuck – Little.

Take care my lovelies x




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