I was grateful and all that, but my god, at the end of the day, I had just been handed a dead sheep.
|look who we found in our bath this morning....|
First of all, welcome to our world Daisy and Minnie! Our 2 new ducks! They swam around for ages in our massive paddling pool. And then Lola and Monty took them off to their bed in the garage. Hoorah! They are well cute, and I am convinced one of them is a male, although they reckon they’ve caught me 2 girls. Well, time will tell whether Daisy/Minnie are in fact Brendan/Barry. Oh, and the names are not certain yet…
Friday night, the school spectacle-the girls’ danced like boogy queens, and I nearly fell off the bench filming, I was unfortunately at the back, and had to stand on a bench to see, *damns self for being so small* and they are like Lilliputs doing twirls and boogying to French songs, but I filmed it nonetheless. Bravo me. And then after…OMG, I nearly died tressing girls’ hair. The queue was immense, and my heart sunk into my flip-flops when I saw it. The tressing was endless, I tressed like a Trojan on speed and did dozens and dozens. I check the clock, it’s 9.15 pm, I have been here literally for 2 and a half hours. I make my excuses, and die on the spot. Then I come back to life, realised I was being let off for good behaviour, and rounded up the 3 out of 4 kids, as Lola was going to be staying at her friend’s that night. I walk out to the car park, realising Alex had dropped me off, parked and come back. He had not told me where. But it was all alright-I see the car! We walk over the otherside of the car park, I go to open the door and put the kids in, and realise it’s locked. AHA! Our car, does not lock. This is not my car. I drag 3 hyper-tired kids back to the School, make a call on a friend’s phone to ask Alex where he parked. Miles away, that’s where. But at least I know, and off we trot.
|The 'tresses'....that nearly killed their mother...|
My garage smells like an abattoir, my fridge like vampires have been nesting in there, and I feel violated. 9.40 am, Saturday morning there’s a knock at the door, I am in the shower as I was expecting the knock at 10, in my house every second counts. It’s the bus driver, his wife and gorgeous little adopted son and one MAHOOSIVE dead sheep, in plastic. Thank yous and kisses and tears ensued. Well, not the tears, I was grateful and all that, but my god, at the end of the day, I had just been handed a dead sheep. It’ll feed us for a month, and the rest (well not if the 15-year-old who’s staying here with us stays…). It arrived, thankfully headless (don’t think I’ve ever said that before…), necessarily ‘hoofless’, and already gutted. Alex got his best mate Jamie Bennett up to help, and to bring a sharp knife-veggie household=blunt knives. Well who needs a sharp knife to cut up a lentil? So the deed was done, we have legs/necks/breast/chumps/loins/other bits I cannot remember the name’s of. I did draw a diagram for Alex before carving procedures ensued, I ‘Wikipediad’ ‘carving up a sheep’ and the diagram seemed self explanatory enough. The music was blaring, and I kept doing the finger in the ears thing saying ‘I can’t hear it, I can’t hear it, I can’t hear it’ in vein attempts to drown out the hacking saw through bone noises, and cracking sounds. Too rank.
On a brighter note, we have our friends’ son’s 1st birthday party tomorrow afternoon, weather is to be sunny, and the kids will be caked up, coked up (the fizzy pop coked up, she hastily adds) and played out. So hopefully they’ll sleep in…?
You can but wish….See you Tuesday!