A TRIP TO THE VET
I was surprised how quickly everything got back to normal after the fire. Crichton went back up in London and I have the house to myself, which is a good thing in many respects. A woman can only take so much of her husband WFH (working from home) before she wants to brain him, and Waffler and Trehorlicks doesn’t run itself. Now all that is left to do is to persuade him to sanction the kitchen refit. Unfortunately, Alyona has done such a good job with the J-cloth and bucket, that the kitchen doesn't look too bad at all and Cook is happily rolling out the dinners again. I will have to work very skilfully if I am to get him to agree and have loosened the handles on the cutlery drawer in readiness for the weekend.
The new freezer arrived in all its glory with plenty of polystyrene packaging for Brexit to chew up. It's huge. Double door, drinks dispenser and a screen that tells you what you’ve run out of. Goodness knows how that works, but Cook is thrilled to bits.We celebrated with ice cold drinks all round despite the arctic weather. And talking of running out of things, my patience is wearing a bit thin with Alyona. She got far too keen on the idea of spring cleaning and throwing things away. I rescued Crichton's back copies of Shooting Times from the recycling, (he'd be hopping mad to loose them) and then came in to find her on the drawing room window sill.
‘I should please be taking down curtains for cleaning, Mrs T. They are smelling like kipper,’ she said.
She may well be right, but I had to tell her, ‘No. Absolutely not.'
It’s far too cold to consider doing it this side of Easter and we have enough going on in the kitchen. The sash windows let in terrible drafts and Crichton will get another of his stiff necks. We shall just have to put up with the smell until the Spring. A silence as frosty as the weather has now developed between us . She’s very stubborn but so am I, and it will be me that has to sit in the room, wearing mittens and a duvet, while she’s in her cosy semi in the village.
The Sausage was delighted to have his basket moved upstairs to our bedroom, but we could only stand it for a couple of days. Crichton and I have got used to Trenton’s whistling nose, but Brexit’s terrible wind coupled with yipping in his sleep and nocturnal enuresis, means little rest for any of us, not to mention a damp rug. Trenton deserves better in his old age and I thought I’d better take him to the vet as well, just in case. In the end I combined it with the annual visit for the whole menagerie.
It went well…all things considered.
Two spaniels (I always take Lucy and Clive for Granny T), Trenton, one Sausage and the cat.
We took the place by storm and commandeered the entire building for half the morning.
We took the place by storm and commandeered the entire building for half the morning.
I really take my hat off to that new girl, Katie… she’s certainly an asset to Hornsea & Denby, if speed and stoicism is any virtue in veterinary practice and she didn't flinch when Mrs Tibbs caught her across the cheek.Those claws can leave nasty scars.
We would have got out without further incident if Brexit hadn’t spotted the rabbit at reception.
He really is quite tenacious once he gets a hold on something.
Poor little Tanya Hooper was rather upset, but I’ve told her mother that we have heaps of rabbits on our top field and she’s welcome to come and see them anytime she likes.
Crichton rang me at about five forty-five, half way through Pointless. He seems to know exactly when they are getting to the head to head. Infuriating.
Crichton rang me at about five forty-five, half way through Pointless. He seems to know exactly when they are getting to the head to head. Infuriating.
Crichton comments
A grim day in the office. Rang Cynthia hoping for some sympathy but I could hear that blighter Armstrong on the TV in the background so I knew she wasn't really listening.
Tense discussions with the archaeologists about the underground carpark at the Roller Towers development. They may have found the remains of a Roman latrine which will need full excavation before we can progress. Alex is furious and called it a load of old crap…which technically it is…but I don’t think it helps when he says these things. The archaeology bods invariably have their way. Please God they don’t suggest having a TV crew on site to film it all. He is worse than Boris Johnson and Prince Philip rolled into when he gets the bit between his teeth and is bound to say something awkward.
Found a twenty pound note in my trouser pocket so mustn't grumble.
ReplyDeleteA visit to the vets was a tonic on a cold day in Feb keep it coming.
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How do men always know when you've got to the interesting bit (or are on the toilet?) to zero in and spoil the lot?
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