Teenage kicks

Last night in the company of our good buddies Mr and Mrs Folly, at out first outdoor evening this year,  the talk turned to teenagers.

I am, as you may know Dear Reader, the proud possessor of one of these creatures. The Child is a pretty typical 19 year old boy (I want to say man but can’t quite bring myself to do it) in his ways and habits. His conversation is little, the hours he keeps are erratic and he has been know to gaze into the fridge for minutes on end as though expecting who knows what to suddenly materialise in front of his eyes. But it is within his own domain, his bedroom that he shows his true teenage colours.

The carpet which was once a light beige (foolish choice in hindsight) is stained and dirty – it has been variously vomited on, spilled on and there are some marks which I dread to identify. There are X Box games, receipts, bottle tops, litter and all manner of other things which seem to have taken up permanent residence on the floor and there are things under the bed which may have come out of the ark. I venture in in my laundry fairy guise and half heartedly pick up bits and pieces whilst trying to hoover the small part of visible carpet. TG and I thought it was really awful and can’t wait until university time in September when complete fumigation can take place. Well, that was until we saw Miss G’s room in this picture which is possibly the worst mess I have seen in a bedroom.

Observe if you will Dear Reader the complete lack of visible carpet and the heaped piles of clothing. See the bed, oasis like in the desert of discarded stuff (and yes there are two bodies in said bed!). How she finds anything at all is completely beyond me. Her mother has threatened to lock her in there after her exams until it is tidy and I fear we many not see her for many weeks….

She does, I think, knock The Child’s room into a cocked hat.

**I should mention that despite being incredibly messy, The Child and Miss G are two of the nicest teenagers you could come across. I am immensely proud of my boy and Miss G is turning into a fine young lady (and no, no money changed hands!).

**I should also point out that she gave me this picture!

And so the Summer begins….

Just a quickie (ooh Matron) Dear Reader.

Isn’t it amazing that when the sun comes out as it has in all its glory, the sky is blue and as the old song goes, there’s not a cloud to spoil the view, how everything seems more right with the world.

People are smiling, there is a buzz in the air and I may even drag the barbi out and give it a clean.

Summer has arrived on the sunny Isle Dear Reader – bring it on!!

Simple pleasures and small peeps

We took the small peeps out on Saturday as it wasn’t bucketing down with rain to Quarr Abbey up the road – which I am ashamed to say in the 10 years that I have lived here, I have never visited

It’s a fab place

And best of all it has

Piggies!!!

We fed them some bread (not sure how good that is for pigs) and I was far more over excited than the small people were

We then repaired for a spot of lunch – never easy with two wriggling small people on your lap

And then set off an a trek on which we discovered horses, buttercups and what happens when you run in sandals and fall in the mud…..(the SBG not me!)

There were secret doors

And horses

And some very determined Dandelion clock blowing (The small boy had noddled off in his pushchair long since!)

How many o’clock?

This might well have been TG’s last outing with us for many months as he is off to foreign shores till Christmas, so I was glad we’d gone and done something ‘proper’ and that the weather was kind to us. We didn’t do anything special but it’s amazing that a bunch of daisies and buttercups, a stroke of the horse and some stinky pigs can provide so much pleasure. Simple pleasures Dear Reader. Simple pleasures.

Spring is (finally) sprung…

Well finally Dear Reader the rain has abated. I would like to say ‘has stopped’ but I fear that we are not out of the woods weatherwise just yet!

But there are Lilacs in the garden

And despite the heavy rain, they are full with flower and scent

Across the way in ‘the business’ bookings have been coming in apace (*mops brow*) and we’ve had loads of enquiries which might well turn in to bookings (*crosses fingers*) and so I therefore might sleep more soundly at night (*bank manager also mops brow*). We decided to accept pets (dogs seem to be popular but we are open to suggestion) and pretty much all the bookings so far have included a furry friend or two – so that seems to have been a good decision!

Not Roses round this door but a very lovely Wisteria which is making its way up the wall

All in all Dear Reader the karma seems to have improved immeasurably in comparison to the end of last year and the beginning of this year and for that I am glad. With the sunshine comes optimism and hope and at least for now, the dark times seem to be behind us. Times are a changin’ for all of my brood on the sunny Isle and that is perhaps no bad thing.

And so the weekend rolls around yet again. And what has been achieved in the week since I last wittered on here? I have learned to Tweet (with no great zip of pithy humour it must be admitted) and am enjoying the tweets of such luminaries as Stephen Fry and Caitlin Moran which make me laugh – and someone purporting to be the Queen (@Queen_UK) which is hysterical. I have cleared out no cupboards, charity shopped no clothes and hoovered no carpets AND the fridge is bare. I have however watched about 300 episodes of The Wire though which surely must make up for some of it….

And the weekend to come may include (in no particular order) tapas, champagne, piggies, tearooms and java. Watch this space Dear Reader and enjoy your weekend.

May all your bank holidays be sunny ones….

I came across this quote in my travels:

“By the time one is eighty, it is said, there is no longer a tug of war in the garden with the May flowers hauling like mad against the claims of the other months.  All is at last in balance and all is serene.  The gardener is usually dead, of course.” -  Henry Mitchell, The Essential Earthman 

And it made me chuckle. Thinking ahead to the bank holiday weekend, gardening is top of the agenda. Everything in the greenhouse is getting very leggy and needs planting out, but with the suggestion of frost in the air, I’m feeling a bit nervous. I have managed to get a load of horse poo from up the drive for the ravenous beans and there is digging, weeding and planting to be done. The Smallest Baby Girl’s seeds have sprouted (she’ll be so pleased!) and so we may do a little transplanting and there will be AT LEAST 500 questions as to the whys and wherefores of seed growing (must remember not to mention wrinkles!).

As the lovely Mr Titchmarsh says – whatever the weather, enjoy your garden (and have a lovely long weekend…)

Wordless Wednesday – or memories of Summer….seems like a long time ago

Out of the mouths of babes – Part 3

The preamble: The Other Child is pregnant and expecting her baby in late August. The Smallest Baby Girl is three and fascinated. The conversation goes thus:

SBG: (looking at herself in the mirror) “Look at my big tummy Mummy”

TOC: “Yes, it’s full of dinner”

SBG: “I think it’s full with baby

TOC: “No, I think it’s dinner”.

*Long pause*

SBG: “So how do babies get into your tummy then?”

TOC: “We’ve talked about this. Mummies and Daddies have a special cuddle and the baby gets in there”.

SBG: “Like a big squeeze?”

TOC: “Yes that’s right”

*Another long pause*

SBG: “So it’s like magic then?”

TOC: (Relieved at having got away with such an easy explanation) “Yes, that’s right its magic”

SBG: (With much consideration) “So Daddy used his magic wand to make a spell with …..”

Cue much choking hilarity from The Other Child and the rest of us when she related it. Can we please keep the Smallest Baby Girl at this age forever?