Battered Mice And A Glitter Pussy…

Hi All

First things first. The greatest news from the weekend is that we survived Grandkiddie Saturday! Yea!! You don’t understand the relief I feel in writing that. Don’t get me wrong, it isn’t like they are lunatics, well not really, I guess they must carry some of grandma’s genes? No, when I say we survived I mean, we and the house survived, only slightly worse for wear.

I was well prepared for their arrival, pancakes cooked and waiting to have a quick flash in the microwave, car seat and booster seat sitting in the back of the car, paracetamol zipped securely in my pocket – yes, as the great Baden-Powell said, “Always be prepared!” Even if I do say so myself, preparation is my middle name. Fail to prepare. Prepare to fail.

After syrup pancakes, followed by a dishcloth flashed over sticky little faces, we piled into the car and set off to look round a couple of nearby garden centres which had their Christmas displays up and running. Jake sang his twelve songs from his upcoming school play and Grace kindly filled her pamper nap. Cool!

They behaved perfectly, and as I live in breath, I can honestly say that they didn’t break anything! Jake fancied a soft toy, and so, of course, Grace also fancied a soft toy. Fortunately they had the same soft toy in two different colours so Jake had a large brown mouse and Grace had a large cream mouse. I don’t think the mice actually liked each other because, all the way 2013-11-30 10.32.51home, they were fighting in the back of the car, legs flying and whacking Richard on the back of his head. I simply popped a couple of paracetamol and all was well with the world.

We put up the Christmas tree, in the afternoon, with its glitter escaping the branches and showering everything within a two metre radius. Even Chea twinkled and sparkled all night as she lay stretched out in front of the log burner – very Christmassy! Jake, being almost seven, had to climb on the arm of the chair and attempt to kill himself by putting the fairy on the top of the tree. He told me it should have been an angel or a star, but what do I know? Grace, being only two, and knee-high to a grasshopper, put all her decorations on the same low branch. Cute.

After a while they’d had enough and sourced a game of their own making – hurling loose change under the sofa and waiting for it to come out the other side. The excitement and squabbles grew and grew until, eventually, the paracetamol gave up the ghost and I yelled, ‘Right! That’s it! Coats! You’re going home!’

A few, ‘but Grandma’s…’ whined out, but if I’d backed down they wouldn’t have respected the fact that what I say I mean. Cruel. But kind. Makes you wonder why they adore me so much, doesn’t it. Can’t be anything to do with over-priced stupid mice and family bars of chocolate, can it?

The mice resumed their war as we tootled down the motorway and to the ‘swapping over’ point, and Jake drew patterns on the car window with his sticky, onion-ring-smeared fingers. Richard goes mental about this…but not to Jake…or Grace…to me! Idiot.

As my son pulled away with his precious little cargo I could see the mice still at it and hear protests of, ‘Daddy, Grace has got my mouse! Daddy!’

The greatest part of having grandchildren is sending them home. Oh stop it! You know I’m joking…sort of.

Yesterday, we were up at four-thirty to take Richard’s mum, Betty, to the hospital for her ‘wedge in the hip,’ op. Hip Hop? Richard, not being a morning person, (or an evening person), was still half asleep and so I had to take the lead in the ‘keeping Betty cheerful and her mind off the op,’ role. It all went fine and she was the first ‘op’ of the day. If she doesn’t go barmy she should be home in a few days, so it is looking like we will be having her for Christmas Day dinner. As a guest. Not a main course! Joy of joys. Can this life get any better?

OK, now I’m going to take my dusty writer’s head out of the cupboard and briefly attach it. Those of you who are familiar with this blog will know that I write novels, and that I self publish. You will also know that I am hopeless at selling myself and that I never could get my mouth around my own trumpet in order to blow it, so…

I am going to toot quietly and announce that my new book, The Sleeping Field, is now published and live on Amazon. That’s it. No more. No less. You can find it, if you would like to, at http://www.amazon.co.uk/The-Sleeping-Field-Jennie-Orbell-ebook/dp/B00H1XSTW0/ And if you prefer not to…well…whatever. THIS ONE

I would like to say a huge thank you to those of you who have already supported me by buying my books. And also to my Facebook/Twitter and WordPress friends who continue to spread the word and freely give your time and encouragement. There are some things that you just can’t put a price on…and kindness is most definitely one of them, so thank you.

I’ve gone to bleach a few floors and to vac-up another fresh fall of glitter from the tree.

Take care my lovelies x

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5 thoughts on “Battered Mice And A Glitter Pussy…

  1. Lol, I had only just mentioned to Mud about 20 minutes ago that this weekend we would need to take the annual trip to the ‘Winter Wonderland’ at our local garden center so that the girls can choose their new decoration each – it’s become a bit of a tradition 🙂

    He did groan but then several times last month he told the girls quite sternly that ‘No we can not visit the Wonderland, it isn’t December yet!”

    Well it is now and if I know my girls they will argue that he ‘promised’ they could go in December and well, this is the first full weekend ……. 😉 x

    Like

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