|A little Lola, with a chocolate smudge on her face, it's not, for once, pooh, and throwing everyone a Shaka..|
Heads cocking, and ‘boc’, is the response I hear from my four girls, the chickens, luckily my kids speak words, not bocs, and my son would be pretty gutted were I to refer to him as a girl too. Marjorie, Margo, Meg and Molly reply to my questioning them OUTLOUD why they were insisting on flapping on the roof, and not going into their beds. I was not at all disturbed by the fact I had asked them, or the fact I was conversing with chickens, I was genuinely disturbed by the fact they replied. They actually understood me. Does this mean there is hope? OK, so it’s a giant flapping beasty ostrich, posing as a chicken, but it’s something, right? No? OK, moving swiftly on then. To Nohopersville for the gimps…i.e. me (but I think you got that bit earlier on).
Another of our electrical appliances has decided to commit suicide than carry on seeing out its duties here in our ‘maison’. (I shall teach you all French, a word a day, no, no need to thank me *blushes*). Our electrical appliances have a bad habit of committing suicide chez us, I have gone through a washing machine a year, sometimes months was all it took, a dishwasher lived for 6 months, and then sat dribbling and leaking sporadically this browny kind of water for weeks (seven, to be precise) as I awaited the new motor, you see, not just a little flippery bit, the actual motor, which took SEVEN weeks to get apparently, yeah Mr. fix it dude, I see you sipping your black sugary coffee, on your two hour siesta everyday, it’s been noted buster. This has been a rather long winded way of saying we all had to go up to ‘Top Office’ to print out various important bits. In the car park, Alex runs in to print out important bits, and some ‘look how big mine is’ dude drove up and parked his Ferrari in front of us, which had FOUR exhausts btw, As if?! As if you need four, I mean come on, he is only carting himself around too. Really! Anyway, the people in the car park start to drift over, stroking his ego, and a couple of guys ask to take a picture of the car. Another couple wander up, reckoning they are car-bound, I think nothing of it, but they stand, she poses, in front of the car, he then proceeds to take 8 photos of this car, even through the roof top, then turn around and wander back to their car, they came over deliberately, again, I cry AS IF?! I cannot help myself shout it’s a piece of metal you fools, ever so bravely, in English, in my car with the windows shut…but I still don’t *get* what the fuss was about. I tell Alex as he gets back in the car, cursing the material world, I got pretty deep, out of sheer jealousy…! Actually I wouldn’t even want a Ferrari, not even if you gave one to me. That’s true that. Alex sees the couple post-photo session, and asks the guy ‘d’ya wanna a photo of our car, mate?’ whereupon I deck myself laughing, as he looks confused (probably coz Alex asked him in English with the window shut too, such a brave, hilarious couple we are). What between the scrunched up, scrunched in breadstix, and the big chicken hoof scratches down the bonnet, remnants of the chickens' escapades finding a decent place to lay an egg these day, the dude quite understandably, gave it a miss.
Tonight, I am typing late as we got in late, and the end of day clear up took me a looooong while. Tomorrow it’s going to be hot, hopefulllly (I am leaving this typo as I was obviously ‘tired tying’ and leant on the ‘l’ for longer than necessary, well it tells a story…) they’re accurate with this promise this time, or I will take action. And I am also left wondering about my sense of humour, more over, our sense of humour, my hubby and me, after the car episode, it’s sadly obvious that it doesn’t take much to amuse us these days …*clings on mentally*