Firstly, wasps. Last weekend Andy noticed some wasp activity by the guttering going into the eaves of the back of the house. 'We never have that trouble at the Manor,' said Mrs Miggins, passing by Damson Cottage on her way to the studio. (She is after securing the lino cutting services of His Lordship Malarkey for the Much Malarkey Manor Christmas Card 2018. Muttered something about 'quality' and 'production lead times.' I muttered something about it being 'Flamin' June' and 'still six months away.' She muttered back something like, 'Shut up, peasant.' Rude.)
Anyway, wasps there were. I had a quick read on T'internet about 'Do we really have to murder wasp guests?' and the overwhelming response was, 'Yes, unless you want your entire garden smothered in wasp nests next year.' Also, I have witnessed first hand what murdering bleeders wasps can be towards honeybees, so on Thursday, Alex the Wasp Killer arrived, did his do, and the wasps are no more.
I have been promoted at work! From September. More pastoral stuff. More 'being in charge.' More salary. I shan't say anymore other than, from a professional point of view, this job is the most satisfying I've ever experienced in my teaching career.
It has been flippin' hot. Up at the Manor, the renegade hens have installed what I can only describe as an Hawaiian luau setting. It started around ten days ago when Daisy, considering her dried up seaweed and open pine cones, declared the imminent arrival of a considerable heatwave. Ergo, in order to stop Les Poulets having to lie spread-chickened on the grass panting like idiots, Measures needed to be Taken.
Consequently, a pantechnicon lorry type thing arrived and deposited a) two enormous bell tents b) several tonnes of soft, white sand and c) a dozen plastic flamingoes. I thought the flamingoes were unnecessary but with Mrs Pumphrey in charge of décor, well, anything goes. Primrose and Daisy have been traversing the gardens making flower garlands from the mass of roses that are currently flooding the flower beds. My Pimm's jug has mysteriously disappeared. Judging by the late night banjo music and cackling, the hens are having a high old time in the sunny evenings. The washing line is decorated with an assortment of bikinis suggesting a high old time is being had during the sunny days, too. I, however, am not enjoying the heat. I love the sunshine. But oh, puff! The heat.
We felt the heat yesterday, me and His Lordship. I have a long weekend off work, Andy had holiday booked. We went to Tatton Park in Cheshire. Have you ever been to Tatton Park? It is MASSIVE! We spent all day there, and one of the best things was that because it was a term time Friday, there were very few people there. We visited the farm, the gardens, the mansion. We walked the grounds. We had elevenses, we had lunch, we had ice lollies. We walked 15,000 steps! We were very good about remembering to put on hats and sunblock - Factor 50 a.k.a the Vampire Factor. An all-round marvellous day.
Bambino Bobble Wilson killed the toaster. There were some flowers in a small vase on the window sill sited just above where the toaster sits on the kitchen worktop. He tried to remove one of the flowers from the vase, the vase toppled and deposited its contents in the toaster and all over the work top. I told Bambino he was a very naughty kitten (sort of) and drained the toaster and left it in the sun all day to dry. Popped in an experimental slice of bread. Toaster toasted for around 15 seconds, produced some smoke, went 'Pfffttt!' And died. Bambino is unrepentant. Still, it has put an end to his toast thief days...
Andy's car has just cost us a 'Cor blimey' amount in servicing, MOTing, new tyre, brake pads, brake discs and exhaust. Ah well...hurrah for job promotions, eh?
I think that is it. I am cracking on with the writing. The writing is moving on apace. Therefore, I am generally in a happy place, which is a relief for all around me! There will be even more writing over the next couple of weeks as there is nothing on the TV to distract me beyond football and tennis, which have never been a distraction.
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