Thankfully of late, the weather has been glorious! Hot, and beachy, so we’ve been beaching it up. The kids are (bar Esmie) all swimming, at different levels, but confidently and loving it, so I am very proud!
We are out in the garden, Alex is fencing in a corner of it for the chickens. I literally cannot take any more flaps to the face/arse or shin. That’s not even talking about their laying eggs in cars, flapping violently up into my children’s faces and snatching food from their angelic mouths (very much a true story, I add, and plenty more than once it happened too), the s**t, the smell, the fact I feel violated by CHICKENS…I am a grown woman, we are being bullied by our ostrich chickens and flapped into submission…But I say NO! No more of this, and so I made Alex put up a fenced off corner for them. We are FREE!! Woohoo, they are so huge they cannot fly as their wings are not strong enough to flap any height for any length of time. Hallelujah to putting steps in place towards an easier, scary animal free area, life.
I walk through the garden to get some figs off the tree at the end, they’re ripening now, and TOO delicious! I feel a jam-make coming on, my friend’s kids had been over to play for the day, and I was sending her back with some chocolate chip cookies we’d baked and figs from the garden. I dart off going ‘No, it’s fine, I’ll just leap over and grab you some’ with this I do actually leap, trip over and slip down the big mound I was trying to jump both impressively and nimbly. I grazed my knee on the gravel and made holes in my leggings! I felt a right wally, she stood pointing and laughing, so did all the kids, so I hobbled on to collect her some figs. As I walk under the walnut tree, they all decide to take 'suicide walnutter stance' and with the help of an almighty gust of wind they pelt themselves hard and deliberately at my face, shins and facial orifices. They have been training all Spring and Summer, and they are ready now going, ‘Come on lads, this is it, NOW! Pelt her, pelt her, pelt her, that’s it! Now my turn weeeeeeeee ..plink, oh man, I only made a plink, I am a disgrace to the entire walnut army, a plink..my god, the shame...’ And well, this is how I imagine it goes anyway. I duck and defensively hold my arms over my head to protect myself from the walnut onslaught, kids and my friend, STILL laughing. Anyway, my mission is accomplished, and she is handed her kids back, figged up and mean. That’s a joke, I do love her to bits! (you know, in case she’s reading).
There’s obviously been something going on, as later on that evening, I manage to yank the whole fridge door off, by it’s hinges, smash a big pot of jam everywhere and clobber my funny bone whilst tackling the evening’s mopping. Which brings me onto another point, wtf is funny about it? Really? In real life, it just f*****g hurts.
I am off to hang out with my man, we got in and did the *kids’ pyjamas, kids’ milk, kids’ teeth, kids’ bed, kids’ last wee, last drinks* whirlwind shift at 8.30 till 9pm (not bad going), after the whole hot afternoon till 8pm was spent on the beach.
Before I go, however, I would really like to know who found me (my blog) by typing in ‘Funny fat kid jumping’ in the search engine?? This world baffles me…
See you tomorrow,