I hope I do not give the impression that I am a super duper coper of life. Many times do I fall flat down in a puddle of despair, there to wallow until I get fed up with being so miserable, and then I get myself out of the puddle or someone is sent to me by the Universe to do the job of lifting me up for me.
I didn't sleep well last night, the problem I think being the ton of dates I had gobbled down just before I went to bed, which was a sorry thing to do because it made my tummy moan at me, oh dear, which caused an upwelling of stomach acid such that I was woken up from a deep sleep with a great startlement thinking that I was drowning, which is what happens when one's throat and mouth becomes full of stomach stuff, which also invades the wind pipes.
Message to self: it is not advisable to be disrepectful to your digestive system, especially if you are almost going to be going to bed. That it is better to avoid the temptations being waved under your nose by your husband, who has a much more robust digestive system which can tolerate things being put into it which your own innards can't. So better to save the nibbles on offer, and get them eaten for breakfast rather than supper. This applies to chocolate as well.
But not to worry, a glass of bicarb did the trick and kept things down in my tum, but only after a couple of huge burps of wind, up and down. However, it might have been the dates, or the bicarb, or a combination of both, but I was to and fro the loo for the rest of the night as my internal water works went in to high operational mode. So, not much sleep did I get, which has left me cruddy this morning, only I didn't know I was cruddy, but the cruddiness came to the surface after Lester went into 'instructions to be given' mode, upon which, and you might be as surprised as I was, my left knee did rise up as high as it would go, after which it slammed the foot at the end of it down on the ground with much force. Yes, dear friend, I stamped my foot! It was a grand stamping as well, not just a little foot tap, but a proper, real, stamp. And then I found my mouth opening, like a child's, and yelling 'I don't want to be told what to do........'
Well, crikey, even I was surprised at myself, as was Lester, who did a runner ( as most men would), slamming the door behind him, because he was also in cruddy mode, but hadn't realised it until I stamped my foot at him, which then ignited his cruddiness. And there we were, two people in high crud mode, which was not good seeing as how we are under enough stress as it is, what with the ongoing thing about the Rayburn and our sharply declining finances because we are paying someone else to move the renovation of the house along because Lester and me are smallholders not renovators and to do both is drilling our energies into the ground which is a shame because we have come a long way and so anyway it was totally useless to waste our limited energy by cruddy squabbling so I went through the door and said "sorry I stamped" and he said "*&90rqe0qew9r8 oh things" and I said some more and he said........
"You need a day off"......
And I realised that I was tired after my lack of sleep, and so I am going to let him cook lunch because he needs to take charge of the domestics sometimes, And he did. He lifted me up. Sometimes, just sometimes, one needs to stop.
The Rayburn Project: we think we might get a plumber in. One has been contacted.
The Dining Room: we got that cleared out, and Lester unfixed Ron's shower.....
Installed by dearest Ron (of Ron and Val), this shower gave us hot water for several years.
This was already in place when we arrived. It drained through through the wall and outside somewhere. But it quickly got blocked up when Lester dropped an apricot pip into the plug hole, which we never were able to remove. Not to worry. I used a bowl to do the washing up in, the shower hose from the boiler giving me the necessary hot water. Any over spill of water in the sink itself was scooped out, but there was always some water left in the blocked drain hole.
The shower facilities:
Ah, now, this was a bit basic.....
Obviously we were unable to climb into the sink itself,
so we used an old plastic box to stand in while we hand held the shower to sluice ourselves down.
It was quite an experience, seeing as how we had no ceiling, nor any roof,
so showering was always a completely open air job.
Lester was very bold and showered even when it was cold, but me?
Well I preferred to use a flannel and a bowl of water over in the caravan,
which is where we were living at that time.
January 2009: Ron and Lester.
We had just been blown to pieces by a hurricane, and Ron and Val had driven down from the Charente, picking up another caravan along the way to give us extra accommodation.
Words can never repay the amount of help they gave us during those early years.
The roof is on and so are the ceilings. But this is the last photo of the boiler. It is no more, although its bits and pieces have been kept because it did not seem quite right to throw them out onto the rubbish heap.
and this old smoke hole are going to be areas up for earnest discussion between myself and my other half, as we both have opposite views as to what to do with them.
I shall try not to stamp my foot again.
There is nothing quite like having a little lamb think you are its mum, even for a few moments.....and thus it was that in the beginning of this day we decided to let the sheep out onto the side field, just so they could stretch their legs after a couple of days indoors. Most went across the lane into the field alright, but a couple of mums stayed behind in the barn. At 8.30 this morning you would have found me walking across the sheep paddock with a little lamb glued to my shin, his mum and sibling having already gone ahead.
It is not a good think to pick up a lamb because they can do things out of their other end which would then drive the dogs nuts when you tried to get back into the courtyard after the lamb is back with mum.It is not a good thing to pick up a lamb because the cuddlesome factor is dreadfully high, and you just want to hug the lamb to pieces and never put it down. It is not a good thing to pick up lambs because a mum sheep can reject her lamb if it smells of you and not her.
So I put this little lamb quickly down after I had carried it across the mud at the sheep barn entrance, (lambs don't 'do' mud) hoping it would scamper after his mum. He didn't. He stayed with me, his allegiance now transferred to the shape of my lower half. His mum is plump and round. Does this mean that I have the same plumpness and roundness as she does? She is black with a light tan rear end, and I was wearing a navy blue and brown check skirt, so perhaps that is what confused him. Anyway, that little lamb glued himself so close to me that I could have gone anywhere and he would have followed. I felt very powerful, responsible, soppily emotional, and oh so wanted to pick him up and give him the biggest of cuddles. But I didn't. I was a good girl and honoured his right to be seen as a species different to me, and therefore deserving of my respect. In other words I did not want to give in to soppy emotions which could damage his relationship with his mum. Aw, but he was the cutest thing!!!!!
The river did not flood this time, although there is heavy surface water on our main field, which always happens at this time of the year, and which our geese love. It is becoming urgent that we get the pig paddocks sorted out though. Mum pig stayed indoors today. I guess she is fed up with the mud, and that, for a pig, is unusual.
Anyway, I must close off for the day, so bye for now,