I have shared with you a couple of my experiences with the Raving Rev. Experiences where stupidity has reigned. Situations where common sense has been regarded as a myth. Earlier today I was remembering one instance when the Raving Rev and I went shopping with my dad.
On the drive to the superstore my dad was ranting about how stupid the Raving Rev could be (this is due to something silly he had done earlier during the day, of which escapes my memory). Was he (Raving Rev) completely devoid of common sense? Did he ever think before he did something? Was there any hope for him? While my dad was having his wee rant I became acutely aware that the Raving Rev had gone silent in the back of the car. I know this silence, something has gone wrong. We park and all get out and I see his face. He's looking sheepish and trying to avoid eye contact with my dad. "What's the matter?" I ask. He held his coat out to me, well kind of. I looked closely. The Raving Rev had gone and got his thumb stuck in the buttonhole of his coat and it was turning blue! He didn't want to say anything because my dad would think him to be an imbecile. My dad stared at him, shook his head in disbelief and walked off, leaving me to free the Raving Rev from his coat. My dad, not long after this, asked me the question of why I chose someone with no common sense (aka stupid). I have pondered this question for years and only today realised the answer.
I only know stupid/crazy/lack of common sense. It was what I grew up with! Of course I'm going to choose a partner lacking in common sense.
I can remember when I was about 15 years old my mum decided that we (her and I) were going to clear out the garage. Our garage was full of junk. Indeed I don't believe that any of our garages have ever been used for cars but just a place to store junk. There were tables, cabinets, boxes, tool boxes (I never understood why we had tool boxes. In my family tools were as useful to us as an oxygen tank is to a fish), old books, the list is endless. Well this garage had a leak and it had been raining plenty and the rain water had collected in various receptacles. One such place was in a planting tray atop the cabinet. Now I could clearly see that it had water in it due to the fact that my old plastic ball was floating in it. It was very obvious, or so I thought. Well my mum started her hurricane tidying (throwing junk from one side of the garage to the other and moaning about it) and halfway through she reached up for the planter. I watched as she violently grabbed the planter and yanked. The water poured all over her head. She gasped and her eyes widened. Then to add insult to injury the ball followed the water, bounced off her head and made a bid for escape through the open door. My mum stood frozen to the spot with her arm in the air, holding the now empty planter. She glared at me and as the smile began to creep upon my face she growled "Don't. You. DARE. Laugh." I stared at the water dripping off mums hair into her eyes. Mum stared back. I swallowed. "I'll go get you a towel." I ran into the house where I promptly collapsed roaring with laughter. It took me 10 minutes to control myself and be able to return outside with a towel to which I was greeted with "Took you long enough. You better not be laughing." "No, of course not" I lied.
Common Sense 0 - Stupidity 1
There was another time when I was around 16 years old. Mum had gone to bingo leaving dad and I in the house. Dad had fallen asleep after dinner so I went to my room to listen to music and read. Well, around an hour later there was a hammering at the front door. I listened and realised that dad must still be asleep as he wasn't answering it. I went and opened the door to an irate man. "Is it you who has the fire?" he barked. I stared at him, uncomprehendingly. Exasperated at my lack of response he began flailing his arms in the air whilst trying to make me understand. I worked out that someone had a bonfire. There was thick smoke. It was dangerous. It looks to be coming from our garden. "Oh that" I said. "No it's not us. Dad's in the frontroom and he's been moaning about it himself." I don't, to this day, know why I lied but I did. The man looked taken aback. He had been wrong. He apologised, left and went banging on our neighbours door. As I closed the front door I had a sinking feeling. I already knew but I had to check. As I walked to the frontroom I knew what I'd find but I prayed I'd be wrong. I hoped dad would be asleep in there, oblivious to the world and to prove that I hadn't just lied to a total stranger. I looked through the door and his chair was empty. My heart sank. I slowly wandered out to the back garden, knowing what I would find but still hoping I was wrong. I opened the backdoor and saw thick, black smoke billowing over to the houses at the back of us. I saw the fire raging and threatening to set the hedge alight. Then I saw my dad. He was doing the
most bizarre thing I have ever seen. He was running from the side of the house up to the fire with the garden hose pipe. His run though was not that of a
fireman or a regular man for that matter. He held the hose at his waist and ran pulling his knees up to his chest. It looked like something out of a comedy sketch. The hose pipe was trickling water and as he 'ran' past my dad shouted "don't worry love, it'll be fine". I sighed, turned around and went back in the house.
Common Sense 0 - Stupidity 2
Now as an adult these things should cease but yesterday I found myself again lying for parents and shaking my head. My dad needed to go to the chemist and collect some bandages for his doctors appointment. We went down to the chemist and I offered to run in and get his prescription for him. A simple job, what could go wrong? I go in, ask and receive a small bag. I check it. "No, he needs the bandages" I say. Thus begins a 20 minute stay in the chemist. They cannot find the prescription. Has it been delivered? No, if it had I wouldn't be standing there would I? Has someone picked it up? Again, no otherwise I wouldn't be standing there. Am I sure? I could feel my blood pressure rising and my temper getting shorter. At one point, four of them were staring at the computer, as if that would make the prescription appear! I wanted to say something. I was getting angry and I wanted to shout. Thankfully, God kept my tongue silent. After a very long 20 minutes they kindly gave me another set of bandages so that we could make it in time for dads appointment. As we drove to the surgery and I was retelling the saga I had that sinking feeling again. "Dad, they said someone had picked up the prescription but I said that no one had. You hadn't got the prescription had you?" His answer was this. "Yeah of
course I have love. It's in the back of the car. I forgot and I haven't checked it yet." I looked around and saw the bag. I grabbed it and looked inside. For the
first time ever in my life I slapped my dad and swore at him. "You bloody idiot the bandages are here! I nearly had a go at those poor people! I thought they were incompetent. I lied to them!" He laughed. "Oh well" was the response I received.
Common Sense 0 - Stupidity 3
Stupidity. Lack of common sense. Why did I choose a daft partner? Because I know no different. Common sense is not abundant in my family. Stupidity reigns. Makes for good stories though.
Sunday 19 October 2014
Saturday 28 June 2014
The News That Truly Shocks, Is The Empty, Empty Page......
How do you say goodbye? How do you let go? How do you smile without bursting into tears? When does it stop hurting?
I already know the answers, I've been here before but no matter how many times you go through this, it never gets easier. The death of a loved one is always a shock and you're left reeling in your world. The tears come unbidden. The pain is sharp and intense. The memories make you want to smile but instead you end up sobbing.
My uncle Drew passed away this week, unexpectedly. His passing has left everyone who knew him reeling. There is a massive hole in the lives of so many. You see, my uncle Drew was a man who knew many people and, I think it would be fair to say, bought sunshine into their lives. He had been in the Royal Navy and he had been a coastguard. He sadly lost his wife only a couple of years ago and it broke his heart completely. Yet, still through his heartbreak he would smile and make you smile.
I only got to reconnect properly with him last year but I can honestly say, he was such a kind hearted man who loved and cared about others. His warmth, friendliness, love and care were so genuine.......
What can I say about him? How do you tell others about a guy who was just fantastic? How do you explain the emptiness that one person has left in your life?
One of the best songs I've ever heard which explains how death feels to me is called I Grieve by Peter Gabriel.
https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=K4d_ilHsFjc
The news that truly shocks is the empty, empty page....
So I try to remember and smile and be thankful. I am so thankful that I got to spend the short amount of time that I did with him. I got to share my birthday with him this year. We all went round to his house and a roast dinner and uncle Drew had bought me a cake. I made him shake his head in disbelief and amusement. I turned up in a 1950's style dress. When he saw me he told me how lovely I looked. The he looked down and noticed my lilac tights and Dr Marten boots. "Red, there is a time for being lady like and a time for boots". He couldn't help grinning though as I bounced around the house. Every time after that, when we met, he would mention my boots and start chuckling.
There was the great evening that the Raving Rev and I went round and had an Indian take away with uncle Drew and we watched 47 Ronin. It was lovely to spend time with him and his great big bear that was disguised as an Alsatian.
We had a barbecue with him and the Raving Rev and I sat the whole evening chatting with him. Uncle Drew had tried to make me a strawberry dakiri. He put whole strawberries in it! It didn't quite go right but I loved him for trying. I also appreciated it because I knew how much he hated strawberries.
I remember sitting on the sofa at mum and dad's while uncle Drew had me roaring with laughter at his stories of when he was in the Navy and the coastguard.
I remember and the tears threaten but I am grateful, thankful and happy for the time we had together. I thank God that we had him in our lives again, even if for a short time. I smile to know that he is happy and with his wife and God now.
I already know the answers, I've been here before but no matter how many times you go through this, it never gets easier. The death of a loved one is always a shock and you're left reeling in your world. The tears come unbidden. The pain is sharp and intense. The memories make you want to smile but instead you end up sobbing.
My uncle Drew passed away this week, unexpectedly. His passing has left everyone who knew him reeling. There is a massive hole in the lives of so many. You see, my uncle Drew was a man who knew many people and, I think it would be fair to say, bought sunshine into their lives. He had been in the Royal Navy and he had been a coastguard. He sadly lost his wife only a couple of years ago and it broke his heart completely. Yet, still through his heartbreak he would smile and make you smile.
I only got to reconnect properly with him last year but I can honestly say, he was such a kind hearted man who loved and cared about others. His warmth, friendliness, love and care were so genuine.......
What can I say about him? How do you tell others about a guy who was just fantastic? How do you explain the emptiness that one person has left in your life?
One of the best songs I've ever heard which explains how death feels to me is called I Grieve by Peter Gabriel.
https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=K4d_ilHsFjc
The news that truly shocks is the empty, empty page....
So I try to remember and smile and be thankful. I am so thankful that I got to spend the short amount of time that I did with him. I got to share my birthday with him this year. We all went round to his house and a roast dinner and uncle Drew had bought me a cake. I made him shake his head in disbelief and amusement. I turned up in a 1950's style dress. When he saw me he told me how lovely I looked. The he looked down and noticed my lilac tights and Dr Marten boots. "Red, there is a time for being lady like and a time for boots". He couldn't help grinning though as I bounced around the house. Every time after that, when we met, he would mention my boots and start chuckling.
There was the great evening that the Raving Rev and I went round and had an Indian take away with uncle Drew and we watched 47 Ronin. It was lovely to spend time with him and his great big bear that was disguised as an Alsatian.
We had a barbecue with him and the Raving Rev and I sat the whole evening chatting with him. Uncle Drew had tried to make me a strawberry dakiri. He put whole strawberries in it! It didn't quite go right but I loved him for trying. I also appreciated it because I knew how much he hated strawberries.
I remember sitting on the sofa at mum and dad's while uncle Drew had me roaring with laughter at his stories of when he was in the Navy and the coastguard.
I remember and the tears threaten but I am grateful, thankful and happy for the time we had together. I thank God that we had him in our lives again, even if for a short time. I smile to know that he is happy and with his wife and God now.
John 14:27
Peace I leave with you; my peace I give you. I do not give to you as the world gives. Do not let your hearts be troubled and do not be afraid.
So to end on a slightly upbeat note, here is a piece of music that I like and I hope you enjoy it.
Saturday 21 June 2014
Holiday Adventures!
Summer is finally here, woohoo! The sun is shining. It's hot. It is very hot. Dare I say, too hot? No I mustn't say that. I must love and appreciate the sun and the heat as it has been so long since we've had it. Blue skies......sunshine.....heat......burnt skin......me in a puddle on the floor.....midgies eating me alive (the piranhas of the air)....love summer.
So summer has finally made an appearance and that means holidays yay. The Raving Rev and I had planned our holiday. Down to the parentals for a week, I would show the Raving Rev where I was confirmed (a Christian not a lunatic, that came later) and where I lived. We would then leave my parentals in charge of our boy and head down to London. There we would meet up with the Raving Rev's parentals, catch up with friends and see some shows. It would be good and relaxing. It was good but relaxing? I forgot that if I want to relax, I need to leave the Raving Rev at home.
So we start off on our long trip. I was recovering from the flu and was not looking forward to doing an eight hour drive. The Raving Rev has just passed his driving test and proudly states that he can share the driving. My stomach knotted. It's not that he's a bad driver, he's still learning and isn't fully road savvy yet. We have to navigate treacherous bendy roads, dual carriageways and.....motorways! I began to wonder if this holiday would be our last. I feel deeply sorry for the Raving Rev. You see, I've been driving for half my life now and it's hard to hand over the control. Also, I've turned into Mrs Bucket from Keeping Up Appearances. Whenever the Raving Rev is driving all he hears is "mind out for that car"; "don't hit the cyclist"; "there are sheep up ahead"; "you're going too fast"; "aaargh, you're too close to the wall". I feel for him, I really do.
Well, I suck it up and let him drive the first part of the journey and I was grateful. Still full of flu meant that I kept falling asleep which meant the drive was not very stressful for me and the Raving Rev got to enjoy driving without a constant commentary from me. He did moan when I refused to let him do the motorway but he's still to learn how to navigate a roundabout. Now THAT was a terrifying experience and one that I wish I'd been unconscious for.
After what seemed an age we finally got to my parents at three in the morning. Cup of tea, straight to bed and the holiday had begun. I woke up to glorious sunshine and intense heat. It was great. We relaxed. We chatted. We ate. So good. The next day was just as beautiful and mum and I decide to go into town. You see, being so used to cooler temperatures and not much sun, I had only packed jumpers and jeans. Not very good for hot summer days. So I went to the shops and bought a dress (yes it was that hot it warranted a dress), a pair of shorts (real summer gear) and a skirt. It was slightly depressing as the clothes shops have shrunk all the clothes which means I have to buy the next size up. I am going to write and complain to the fashion industry about this latest development, it makes shopping a depressing experience instead of a joyful one.
That evening we went for a barbecue at my uncle's and I proudly announced my
new purchases and how I would wear them the next day. The sun set, night time came. The moon shone in the sky and I waited, with anticipation, for the
sunrise and the chance to wear my new clothes. I fell into a peaceful slumber, smiling. Ah, summer.
I awoke slightly confused. I felt that I had slept for hours but it was still dark. I could hear my parents moving around and wondered what had happened to get them up in the middle of the night. I reached for my phone to check the time. Nine-thirty! I sat up, bewildered. Had I slept through the whole day to the next evening? I mean, I knew I was tired but I didn't think that I was that tired. I got up and went through to them and realised, with such sadness, that it was nine-thirty am and it was pouring down with rain. The sun, it seemed, had decided to take its holiday at the same time I had. This was not the summer holiday I had anticipated. What about my new clothes? It was too cold to wear them now. My bottom lip quivered and I skulked off to get showered and dressed into my regular gear - jeans, jumper and boots. It rained for the next five days. Apparently the world was not ready to see me in a pair of shorts.
The day fast approaches for our trip to London. I am looking forward to the train journey. The Raving Rev did brilliantly. By booking the tickets a few months in advance, he managed to upgrade us to first class for the princely sum of five pounds extra. How posh! The night before we're due to leave the Raving Rev informs me that he's cancelled our self-catering apartment. I stare at him in horror. Where are we supposed to sleep? He grins. He's been clever. He went onto a website and managed to get us an upgrade. We were going to be staying in a five star hotel for the same price as the apartment. My jaw dropped. A real luxurious holiday. First class travel and a five star hotel. The hotel was near the Tower of London, it had a spa, swimming pool, you name it, it had it. This was going to be exciting.
The day finally arrives and we're on the platform waiting for the train. I am like a jumping bean. I'm going first class! The train comes in and keeps going and going before eventually coming to a halt. It is an extremely long train and it's with horror that we realise that our carriage is all the way down the other end of the platform. We have three minutes to board. There is no way I'm going to make it. I look beseechingly at the Raving Rev. "Forget it. I'm not carrying you and you're case." Fine, humph. By some miracle we make it to the carriage, get our cases in the luggage compartment AND get seated before the train pulls away. Now this should have been a fabulous journey but it was marred by the fact that we had to share a table with two accountants. I have nothing against accountants but these two were soooo boring. The woman was sadly the worst. She did not shut up for nearly the whole journey! She was petrified of silence. All she did was talk at her friend whilst he sat there nodding. I heard and learnt all about her daughter; how her daughter fell out of a tree and got concussion; how a certain health board was not great; how she was feeling stressed because they were going to be moving soon. On and on she went. She was so loud and her chatter so incessant that the Raving Rev and I were unable to hold a conversation ourselves. So our first class trip was nice as we got a free meal and teas and coffees but ruined by the woman who suffered from a severe case of verbal diarrhoea.
We get off the train and head for the underground and soon, we're at the hotel. My jaw dropped when I saw it. It had doormen in top hats. A marble foyer.
Expensive furniture, you name it, they had it. We went in and up to the desk. It was at this point that I noticed some of the other clientele. There was a young twenty something girl, stood there with here Gucci bag and Louis Vuitton suitcase. There was another in her Prada top. I suddenly began to feel slightly out of place. I was stood there in my Joe Brown coat, BooHoo jumper, jeans and Doc Marten boots - these ones.
So summer has finally made an appearance and that means holidays yay. The Raving Rev and I had planned our holiday. Down to the parentals for a week, I would show the Raving Rev where I was confirmed (a Christian not a lunatic, that came later) and where I lived. We would then leave my parentals in charge of our boy and head down to London. There we would meet up with the Raving Rev's parentals, catch up with friends and see some shows. It would be good and relaxing. It was good but relaxing? I forgot that if I want to relax, I need to leave the Raving Rev at home.
So we start off on our long trip. I was recovering from the flu and was not looking forward to doing an eight hour drive. The Raving Rev has just passed his driving test and proudly states that he can share the driving. My stomach knotted. It's not that he's a bad driver, he's still learning and isn't fully road savvy yet. We have to navigate treacherous bendy roads, dual carriageways and.....motorways! I began to wonder if this holiday would be our last. I feel deeply sorry for the Raving Rev. You see, I've been driving for half my life now and it's hard to hand over the control. Also, I've turned into Mrs Bucket from Keeping Up Appearances. Whenever the Raving Rev is driving all he hears is "mind out for that car"; "don't hit the cyclist"; "there are sheep up ahead"; "you're going too fast"; "aaargh, you're too close to the wall". I feel for him, I really do.
After what seemed an age we finally got to my parents at three in the morning. Cup of tea, straight to bed and the holiday had begun. I woke up to glorious sunshine and intense heat. It was great. We relaxed. We chatted. We ate. So good. The next day was just as beautiful and mum and I decide to go into town. You see, being so used to cooler temperatures and not much sun, I had only packed jumpers and jeans. Not very good for hot summer days. So I went to the shops and bought a dress (yes it was that hot it warranted a dress), a pair of shorts (real summer gear) and a skirt. It was slightly depressing as the clothes shops have shrunk all the clothes which means I have to buy the next size up. I am going to write and complain to the fashion industry about this latest development, it makes shopping a depressing experience instead of a joyful one.
That evening we went for a barbecue at my uncle's and I proudly announced my
new purchases and how I would wear them the next day. The sun set, night time came. The moon shone in the sky and I waited, with anticipation, for the
sunrise and the chance to wear my new clothes. I fell into a peaceful slumber, smiling. Ah, summer.
I awoke slightly confused. I felt that I had slept for hours but it was still dark. I could hear my parents moving around and wondered what had happened to get them up in the middle of the night. I reached for my phone to check the time. Nine-thirty! I sat up, bewildered. Had I slept through the whole day to the next evening? I mean, I knew I was tired but I didn't think that I was that tired. I got up and went through to them and realised, with such sadness, that it was nine-thirty am and it was pouring down with rain. The sun, it seemed, had decided to take its holiday at the same time I had. This was not the summer holiday I had anticipated. What about my new clothes? It was too cold to wear them now. My bottom lip quivered and I skulked off to get showered and dressed into my regular gear - jeans, jumper and boots. It rained for the next five days. Apparently the world was not ready to see me in a pair of shorts.
The day fast approaches for our trip to London. I am looking forward to the train journey. The Raving Rev did brilliantly. By booking the tickets a few months in advance, he managed to upgrade us to first class for the princely sum of five pounds extra. How posh! The night before we're due to leave the Raving Rev informs me that he's cancelled our self-catering apartment. I stare at him in horror. Where are we supposed to sleep? He grins. He's been clever. He went onto a website and managed to get us an upgrade. We were going to be staying in a five star hotel for the same price as the apartment. My jaw dropped. A real luxurious holiday. First class travel and a five star hotel. The hotel was near the Tower of London, it had a spa, swimming pool, you name it, it had it. This was going to be exciting.
The day finally arrives and we're on the platform waiting for the train. I am like a jumping bean. I'm going first class! The train comes in and keeps going and going before eventually coming to a halt. It is an extremely long train and it's with horror that we realise that our carriage is all the way down the other end of the platform. We have three minutes to board. There is no way I'm going to make it. I look beseechingly at the Raving Rev. "Forget it. I'm not carrying you and you're case." Fine, humph. By some miracle we make it to the carriage, get our cases in the luggage compartment AND get seated before the train pulls away. Now this should have been a fabulous journey but it was marred by the fact that we had to share a table with two accountants. I have nothing against accountants but these two were soooo boring. The woman was sadly the worst. She did not shut up for nearly the whole journey! She was petrified of silence. All she did was talk at her friend whilst he sat there nodding. I heard and learnt all about her daughter; how her daughter fell out of a tree and got concussion; how a certain health board was not great; how she was feeling stressed because they were going to be moving soon. On and on she went. She was so loud and her chatter so incessant that the Raving Rev and I were unable to hold a conversation ourselves. So our first class trip was nice as we got a free meal and teas and coffees but ruined by the woman who suffered from a severe case of verbal diarrhoea.
We get off the train and head for the underground and soon, we're at the hotel. My jaw dropped when I saw it. It had doormen in top hats. A marble foyer.
Expensive furniture, you name it, they had it. We went in and up to the desk. It was at this point that I noticed some of the other clientele. There was a young twenty something girl, stood there with here Gucci bag and Louis Vuitton suitcase. There was another in her Prada top. I suddenly began to feel slightly out of place. I was stood there in my Joe Brown coat, BooHoo jumper, jeans and Doc Marten boots - these ones.
Oh yeah, I fitted right in. The poor doorman came over and asked if he could take our case for us. I almost screamed at him hysterically "NO! I mean, no thank you". Why was I so against him taking my suitcase? I could not bear the thought of my minimals case (a suitcase covered in little animals) mixing with the posh cases. I admit it, I was feeling embarrassed and out of place. Thankfully a family came in shortly afterwards wearing jeans and t-shirts. I felt better that we were not the only ones in non-label, expensive clothes. The receptionist was lovely and told us that they had upgraded our room, woohoo! This was turning into a seriously luxurious holiday.
We go up to our room and it was so gorgeous! Mahogany and walnut veneer on all the doors and cupboards. Bose stereo (oh yeah). Forty-two inch flat screen TV. The room was bigger than the downstairs of my house and the bed was so comfy. The Raving Rev had done good, until he saw a lever. I was stood at the bottom of the bed, texting my parents, telling them of the beautiful room. The Raving Rev is flitting all around the room exploring every cupboard and drawer. I am absorbed in my texting when I suddenly hear a thunk and feel a paralysing, shooting pain in my foot. "Ow, ow, ow, OW, OW, OW". The Raving Rev stands there, like a statue "what? WHAT? Oh". In his exploring he had found a lever at the end of the bed and of course, he had to pull it. This resulted in the bed dropping down onto my foot.
Sheepishly, he scurried over, fiddled with the lever and the bed moved off my foot. It had all been going so well until then. It didn't really help that he was laughing all the time he was trying to remedy the situation, nor the fact that he kept laughing for the rest of the day when he was trying to say sorry.
Our trip in London was good. We went to the Royal Albert Hall to see the Star Trek film with the orchestra playing the soundtrack live. We met the Raving Rev's parents which was great. The first words his dad said to the Raving Rev upon seeing him "you've got fat". I'm glad they didn't say that to me, I would have spent the whole day weeping. We went to the British Museum and saw the mummies. Half way through the whole museum was evacuated, why we don't know. What I do know is this, the speed at which people were moving, if there had have been a fire or bomb, we would have been burnt to a crisp! There's being calm and orderly and just downright sluggish.
Sadly, the in-laws could only stay with us for the day and the day went far too quickly. So, to console ourselves we went to the cinema. People laugh at us for going to the cinema on holiday but you see, where we live, there is no cinema. We have to wait for a cinebus to come round which is approximately once every three months and it always shows rubbish films. It hardly ever has the big new releases. So in London, we met the in-laws, met with friends for a day, went to the cinema, found a fabulous church - All Hallows' Church, saw a duck in Leicester Square, found Petticoat Lane and bought a couple of suits and had a great time, apart from the broken foot but least said soonest mended.
The trip home was great. On the train, first class, we had a table to ourselves. We discovered that the seats recline! We had tea and coffee. We were able to chat. No annoying accountants. It was brilliant. The drive home was in the summer sun. It was a lovely relaxing time.
Holidays are good; sun is good; everything is good.
Have a great summer and holiday.
Be blessed.
Wednesday 7 May 2014
Oodles of Poodles and a Staffie too!
The summer is coming! The sun is, sometimes, out! It is time for THE POODLES AND STAFFIE ADVENTURES!
Awww, ain't they cute! On the left is 'P' (names hidden to protect identities lol). This little lady is 6 years old but she is a total lady. P walks very elegantly, refuses to talk to you until she has known you for at least a year and is so wonderfully trained. She is totally amazing and so cute and cuddly!
In the middle we have 'A'. A is not even a year old yet, still full of puppy bounciness. Full of mischief and love, A knows that everyone is her new best friend. She is totally in love with D and sometimes wets herself a little bit in her total excitement of seeing him, bless.
Last but not least we have 'D', the wee staffie boy. D is 3 years old, gorgeous and loving (my boy so I'm only slightly biased) and he loves his poodles and his auntie (Poodle Momma).
These three have created an unlikely pack but it works so well. P does not really speak English. Poodle Momma is from Europe and so only speaks to the poodles in her native tongue (this has taught me how to say sit in a different language! Totally fluent now, I can visit this country and repeatedly tell people to sit and possibly lay down. I may even be able to ask them for a paw! All useful stuff haha). So P kinda looks at you in disgust when you try to communicate in English to her. I have found that if I'm not brandishing a tasty treat, my words are inconsequential.
A, I think, is the translator. She has learnt to speak Poodle Momma's native language but her daddy (and everyone else around her) speak English thus she is able to translate for P and communicate with D. A does not need bribery of treats, though they are always welcome. She just wants love and cuddles and kisses, especially from D.
D, he's pure English. He's not quite getting the foreign language that Poodle Momma speaks to him in but he loves her anyway. When we are all together, D ignores me and does whatever Poodle Momma asks grrr. This can be frustrating, especially when we're at dog training.
For example, one night at training, we are all told to heel our dogs. Poodle Momma commands P to come to her heel by tapping her thigh. P instantly does as she's told. D also runs over and heels to Poodle Momma and totally ignores my commands to heel to me. When Poodle Momma calls P over to her, D tries to run over as well! He loves his auntie so much but just occasionally I wish that he could look well trained and as if he loves me, sigh.
So we have been having adventures with our pack and we've clocked up some stories. There was the time that Poodle Momma and I took our beloved furbabies up to the local field. D and A began charging around like mad things with P refereeing their play fighting. Poodle Momma and I chatted with one another, fussed the horses in the next field, told the furbabies to "play nice" and just enjoyed the fact that we were out in the fresh air and the dogs were tiring themselves out without any need for input from us. Well, I remember that I was looking at Poodle Momma as she was speaking and then it all went weird. I heard her gasp but I was no longer looking at her. I heard her laughing but at what I could not see. All I could see was the grass! I was confused. I was no longer in a vertical position but a horizontal one. What on earth was going on? Poodle Momma, explained through fits of giggles as she helped me up. D and A had become so engrossed in chasing each other that they were unaware of their surroundings and had charged straight through me. I had had a combined weight of 40 kilos of fast moving dogs charging at me and taking my legs out. Oh how I love nature and dogs. It wouldn't have been so bad but 5 minutes later they tried to do it again! Poodle Momma spotted it though and managed to shout a warning to me. Should I be concerned that the dogs find it great sport to knock me down?
Yesterday was a good trip out. We decided to take the 'pack' down to the beach and that we (the humans) would have a little picnic. What could possibly go wrong?
Well, we began with poor A getting so excited that she wet herself a little bit. This did nothing to help poor Poodle Momma's frazzled mood. We got our sandwiches, our drinks and snacks and loaded the dogs into the car. "I haven't fed A today so she shouldn't be sick" Poodle Momma informs me. You see, poor A gets travel sick and the last time she was ill in the car was hilarious. Poor D got covered in it and we found out that both Poodle Momma and myself are hopeless at cleaning up sick.
We began our journey and all that could be heard from the car is "Will you sit DOWN! Don't chew her foot. Why are you not strapped in? Stop hitting him in the face with your tail! Yes, I love you too. Don't sit on him. Don't push her off the seat!" In the end, Poodle Momma and I disconnected ourselves from the back of the car and let them sort it out while we chatted and enjoyed the scenery. We finally got to the beach and the dogs were bouncing.
We open the car doors and there's an explosion of poodles and staffie! Dogs are going everywhere and we just stand there a bit shell shocked. We manage to grab them, grab our sandwiches and head off for the beach. Through a hole in the wall which I'm sure is much narrower than it used to be, ahem. Through a field of sheep, or walking fluffy clouds. Down onto the sand, ahhh. Like kids, the dogs take off, kicking sand up everywhere. Straight to the water, back up to us, all around in a big circle! Poodle Momma and I find a sheltered area and sit down to eat. We're smiling; feeling happy and beginning to feel the stresses of life fade away. Then the dogs are back with us. We have food, can they have some? Why are we sat down? Come on, move, move, move! AAAARRRGH.
Suddenly, D finds a rock. He is obsessed with rocks and he starts digging around it and chucking it. That's fine, he's occupied. Poor A stares at him in total confusion. She doesn't get the excitement of the rock. She picks up a rock and tries to copy him but she can't see why he's going nuts over a stupid rock. Poodle Momma and I laugh and begin to eat our sandwiches which suddenly become actual sandwiches. D is not paying attention to where he is and suddenly he's kicking sand all over us! Well, what's a picnic on the beach if you don't have that lovely gritty feel in your mouth?
We finished eating and walked a short way across the beach with fluffies. It was here that I found out that Poodle Momma has a fear of water. You see, to get to the next part of the beach you had to take 5 steps across where the waves were coming in. The waves were not deep so even if they caught you, you weren't going to get soaking we feet. I waited for the wave to begin receding and began walking across. Suddenly I heard a ferocious "MOVE" and felt a fist in my back, which sent me crashing into the rock next to me, grazing my knuckles. I looked around in panic and shock. What's happening? Has Poodle Momma spotted a shark that's coming in with the tide? Is there a tsunami? Has a killer sea monster began emerging from the sea? All I knew is that in my winded state, I must quickly move away from the sea. I run and gasping for breath I turn around and brace myself. I am ready to punch the shark on it's nose. I am ready to bop the sea monster with the dogs water bowl. I am ready to say my prayers if it is a tsunami. There is nothing. Just Poodle Momma looking sheepish and mumbling an apology. Turns out a wave was coming in and she didn't want to get wet. I was in her way so what better way to move out of her way than to punch me and send me reeling into a rock. Remind me not to be in her path when there is real danger.
After all that excitement and getting the dogs to do some rock climbing, we sit on the sand for a while, staring out to sea. Poodle Momma is relaxing herself by burying her hands in the sand. She's in the middle of explaining to me how the sensation is soothing when suddenly, mid sentence she screams "AAARGH! WHAT THE F***? THAT'S MY HAND!" You see, A had been hiding behind Poodle Momma and saw the sand moving next to her mum. In a brave and noble attempt to protect her mum and kill whatever was moving under the sand, A had pounced on the offending creature. This had led to her putting all her claws into Poodle Momma's hand. Strangely, Poodle Momma seemed less relaxed after this.
We took the dogs back to the car and decided to go and have a look at the art shop and get ourselves a cup of tea/coffee and cake. Ahh, that was better. We discussed art and Poodle Momma taught me stuff that I didn't know which was cool. We ate cake. We chilled. We laughed. We left in a happy, uplifted state. We returned to the car and that's when the comedy sketch began. We found that P had been sat in the front seats, covering them in sand. That's fine, we knew that would happen and sand brushes out, no big deal.
I opened my car door and Poodle Momma opened hers. A gust of wind blew through the car, freeing my air freshener and causing it to make a break for freedom. A, who was in the back of the car is now suddenly outside. P is running around looking confused. I open the back door to get A in but D jumps out. There was just an explosion of dogs. We get D back into the car but then P jumps into the back. A is trying to get into the front and being told off by her momma. P suddenly jumps through to the front and is getting ready to drive the car. A is totally confused and ignoring all commands. Poodle Momma climbs into the front seat and has a melt down whilst I helpfully, kneel by the door, laughing so hard that I can't breathe. Imagine if you will, the two humans just stood there, looking totally bewildered, whilst three dogs run in and out of the car in total confusion and chaos.
We eventually rounded them up, got them into the car and headed home. Here we encountered lambs who do not know the highway code yet and sheep who own the road and will not move unless you give them the correct password (tip - honking your horn and yelling move is not the correct password). Eventually we get home, we have a cuppa, the dogs collapse and we smile. Everything is great. Everything is peaceful, until they wake up......
Awww, ain't they cute! On the left is 'P' (names hidden to protect identities lol). This little lady is 6 years old but she is a total lady. P walks very elegantly, refuses to talk to you until she has known you for at least a year and is so wonderfully trained. She is totally amazing and so cute and cuddly!
In the middle we have 'A'. A is not even a year old yet, still full of puppy bounciness. Full of mischief and love, A knows that everyone is her new best friend. She is totally in love with D and sometimes wets herself a little bit in her total excitement of seeing him, bless.
Last but not least we have 'D', the wee staffie boy. D is 3 years old, gorgeous and loving (my boy so I'm only slightly biased) and he loves his poodles and his auntie (Poodle Momma).
These three have created an unlikely pack but it works so well. P does not really speak English. Poodle Momma is from Europe and so only speaks to the poodles in her native tongue (this has taught me how to say sit in a different language! Totally fluent now, I can visit this country and repeatedly tell people to sit and possibly lay down. I may even be able to ask them for a paw! All useful stuff haha). So P kinda looks at you in disgust when you try to communicate in English to her. I have found that if I'm not brandishing a tasty treat, my words are inconsequential.
A, I think, is the translator. She has learnt to speak Poodle Momma's native language but her daddy (and everyone else around her) speak English thus she is able to translate for P and communicate with D. A does not need bribery of treats, though they are always welcome. She just wants love and cuddles and kisses, especially from D.
D, he's pure English. He's not quite getting the foreign language that Poodle Momma speaks to him in but he loves her anyway. When we are all together, D ignores me and does whatever Poodle Momma asks grrr. This can be frustrating, especially when we're at dog training.
For example, one night at training, we are all told to heel our dogs. Poodle Momma commands P to come to her heel by tapping her thigh. P instantly does as she's told. D also runs over and heels to Poodle Momma and totally ignores my commands to heel to me. When Poodle Momma calls P over to her, D tries to run over as well! He loves his auntie so much but just occasionally I wish that he could look well trained and as if he loves me, sigh.
So we have been having adventures with our pack and we've clocked up some stories. There was the time that Poodle Momma and I took our beloved furbabies up to the local field. D and A began charging around like mad things with P refereeing their play fighting. Poodle Momma and I chatted with one another, fussed the horses in the next field, told the furbabies to "play nice" and just enjoyed the fact that we were out in the fresh air and the dogs were tiring themselves out without any need for input from us. Well, I remember that I was looking at Poodle Momma as she was speaking and then it all went weird. I heard her gasp but I was no longer looking at her. I heard her laughing but at what I could not see. All I could see was the grass! I was confused. I was no longer in a vertical position but a horizontal one. What on earth was going on? Poodle Momma, explained through fits of giggles as she helped me up. D and A had become so engrossed in chasing each other that they were unaware of their surroundings and had charged straight through me. I had had a combined weight of 40 kilos of fast moving dogs charging at me and taking my legs out. Oh how I love nature and dogs. It wouldn't have been so bad but 5 minutes later they tried to do it again! Poodle Momma spotted it though and managed to shout a warning to me. Should I be concerned that the dogs find it great sport to knock me down?
Yesterday was a good trip out. We decided to take the 'pack' down to the beach and that we (the humans) would have a little picnic. What could possibly go wrong?
Well, we began with poor A getting so excited that she wet herself a little bit. This did nothing to help poor Poodle Momma's frazzled mood. We got our sandwiches, our drinks and snacks and loaded the dogs into the car. "I haven't fed A today so she shouldn't be sick" Poodle Momma informs me. You see, poor A gets travel sick and the last time she was ill in the car was hilarious. Poor D got covered in it and we found out that both Poodle Momma and myself are hopeless at cleaning up sick.
We began our journey and all that could be heard from the car is "Will you sit DOWN! Don't chew her foot. Why are you not strapped in? Stop hitting him in the face with your tail! Yes, I love you too. Don't sit on him. Don't push her off the seat!" In the end, Poodle Momma and I disconnected ourselves from the back of the car and let them sort it out while we chatted and enjoyed the scenery. We finally got to the beach and the dogs were bouncing.
We open the car doors and there's an explosion of poodles and staffie! Dogs are going everywhere and we just stand there a bit shell shocked. We manage to grab them, grab our sandwiches and head off for the beach. Through a hole in the wall which I'm sure is much narrower than it used to be, ahem. Through a field of sheep, or walking fluffy clouds. Down onto the sand, ahhh. Like kids, the dogs take off, kicking sand up everywhere. Straight to the water, back up to us, all around in a big circle! Poodle Momma and I find a sheltered area and sit down to eat. We're smiling; feeling happy and beginning to feel the stresses of life fade away. Then the dogs are back with us. We have food, can they have some? Why are we sat down? Come on, move, move, move! AAAARRRGH.
Suddenly, D finds a rock. He is obsessed with rocks and he starts digging around it and chucking it. That's fine, he's occupied. Poor A stares at him in total confusion. She doesn't get the excitement of the rock. She picks up a rock and tries to copy him but she can't see why he's going nuts over a stupid rock. Poodle Momma and I laugh and begin to eat our sandwiches which suddenly become actual sandwiches. D is not paying attention to where he is and suddenly he's kicking sand all over us! Well, what's a picnic on the beach if you don't have that lovely gritty feel in your mouth?
We finished eating and walked a short way across the beach with fluffies. It was here that I found out that Poodle Momma has a fear of water. You see, to get to the next part of the beach you had to take 5 steps across where the waves were coming in. The waves were not deep so even if they caught you, you weren't going to get soaking we feet. I waited for the wave to begin receding and began walking across. Suddenly I heard a ferocious "MOVE" and felt a fist in my back, which sent me crashing into the rock next to me, grazing my knuckles. I looked around in panic and shock. What's happening? Has Poodle Momma spotted a shark that's coming in with the tide? Is there a tsunami? Has a killer sea monster began emerging from the sea? All I knew is that in my winded state, I must quickly move away from the sea. I run and gasping for breath I turn around and brace myself. I am ready to punch the shark on it's nose. I am ready to bop the sea monster with the dogs water bowl. I am ready to say my prayers if it is a tsunami. There is nothing. Just Poodle Momma looking sheepish and mumbling an apology. Turns out a wave was coming in and she didn't want to get wet. I was in her way so what better way to move out of her way than to punch me and send me reeling into a rock. Remind me not to be in her path when there is real danger.
After all that excitement and getting the dogs to do some rock climbing, we sit on the sand for a while, staring out to sea. Poodle Momma is relaxing herself by burying her hands in the sand. She's in the middle of explaining to me how the sensation is soothing when suddenly, mid sentence she screams "AAARGH! WHAT THE F***? THAT'S MY HAND!" You see, A had been hiding behind Poodle Momma and saw the sand moving next to her mum. In a brave and noble attempt to protect her mum and kill whatever was moving under the sand, A had pounced on the offending creature. This had led to her putting all her claws into Poodle Momma's hand. Strangely, Poodle Momma seemed less relaxed after this.
We took the dogs back to the car and decided to go and have a look at the art shop and get ourselves a cup of tea/coffee and cake. Ahh, that was better. We discussed art and Poodle Momma taught me stuff that I didn't know which was cool. We ate cake. We chilled. We laughed. We left in a happy, uplifted state. We returned to the car and that's when the comedy sketch began. We found that P had been sat in the front seats, covering them in sand. That's fine, we knew that would happen and sand brushes out, no big deal.
I opened my car door and Poodle Momma opened hers. A gust of wind blew through the car, freeing my air freshener and causing it to make a break for freedom. A, who was in the back of the car is now suddenly outside. P is running around looking confused. I open the back door to get A in but D jumps out. There was just an explosion of dogs. We get D back into the car but then P jumps into the back. A is trying to get into the front and being told off by her momma. P suddenly jumps through to the front and is getting ready to drive the car. A is totally confused and ignoring all commands. Poodle Momma climbs into the front seat and has a melt down whilst I helpfully, kneel by the door, laughing so hard that I can't breathe. Imagine if you will, the two humans just stood there, looking totally bewildered, whilst three dogs run in and out of the car in total confusion and chaos.
We eventually rounded them up, got them into the car and headed home. Here we encountered lambs who do not know the highway code yet and sheep who own the road and will not move unless you give them the correct password (tip - honking your horn and yelling move is not the correct password). Eventually we get home, we have a cuppa, the dogs collapse and we smile. Everything is great. Everything is peaceful, until they wake up......
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