The Patter Of Little Feet

 

It was still dark when I woke up.

The lane light remains out of use and so the bedroom is almost totally dark, expect for the slight glow from the garden solar lights and the faraway moon.

There comes the patter of paws on wooden floor boards

Then an excited squeak , followed by another set of pattering

The twins are in the bedroom. 

They don’t stay long, for the Marathon run is from my bedroom around theirs up and down the hall and into the bathroom where they terminate inside the shower cubicle .

I heard the toilet roll being unravelled and various shower gels being knocked over.

I fell asleep until my extended foot and right big toe was being tapped furiously .

More racing and fighting.

This time up and down the stairs. 

The first step is the first step into no man’s land and cannot be negotiated as yet.

The upstairs is their domain.

Around dawn they were at it again .

This time abseiling down the side of the bed ,

More toe smacks, and zooms and the occasional fart

Something crashes in the bathroom and the dogs bark from their place on the reading chair in the kitchen.

I put the pillow over my head 

And swear

It’s not yet 6 am

Home Cooking

I have come down with a small bump today. Before cooking , I took my two boiled fruit cakes to friends in the village. One to Eirlys who didn’t make the show and the other to John & Mandy next door. 

I’ve cleaned the cottage and let Roger explore upstairs when the kittens are out of their room. He did so silently and carefully and apart from a few kitten hisses, he returned downstairs ten minutes later rather nonplussed.

I’ve made a parmesan aubergine bake top heavy with garlic and whilst it was cooking, sent in my nursing revalidation in  ( my final one ever) 

Hurrah!

Last Show Post

Tonight I’m relaxing with a gin and the Proms, the kittens watching the living room through the bannisters, like we did as children

 I’d thought I’d post you this too! 

A great conclusion to the Flower Show weekend

It’s a photo from Jenny Morris’ social media , 

Celebrating her wins 

Jenny is a young , hard working wife and mum who lives on a small holding on the village outskirts

It made me laugh 

And sums up the joy of a small village show

Reflection

 He enters most years. An elderly man, confused with the labelling of tables and who needs a hand to display his small collection of exhibits.

He’s quiet and diffident and wears a tank top.

And enters five or six vegetables or fruit classes.

This year he won two firsts and second place.

And it made my day when I watched his quiet joy when he checked over his entries as the show opened.

It’s moments like these that make all the hard work survivable. 

There’s lots of moments that does your head in though.

The photo of a pet with a family member breast feeding in the background

The plethora of complains about the lack of art entries 

The lady that held the queue up for 20 minutes complaining about her admission change,

The child that pressed a long finger into a Victoria sponge.

I could go on 

A new lady in the village won the cup for the most marks in the cookery eliciting a self deprecating “ I should have had my hair done” comment before receiving her cup from our local MP Becky Gittins, and suddenly a new tradition is made by her surprised pride

Flower Show 2024

Debbie, one of our judges, she’s a cracker 

My winning vase of flowers

The exotic Malinka Le Vay, Village Leader Ian and the Velvet Voiced Linda

Irene the old village flower show matriarch

American blogger Weaverinfool and family

My choir with Jamie and his 1940s RAF moustache provided a lovely musical interlude

Helen, Ian , Liv, Affable Despot Jason and MP Becky Gittins who presented the trophies

The choir provided some lovely singing

It’s been a long , satisfying, and totally exhausting day

Now THATS a boiled fruit cake

 The day before the flower show

It’s eleven and the cottage is filled with the smell of mixed spice and boiled fruit.

My two boiled fruit cakes are ready, my novelty veg is completed and boiled eggs are cooling in the fridge

I know my predecessor Sylvia was still baking at midnight before show day

I remember her very last show, a bottle of oromorph on the kitchen table between us  as we slagged off no shows

We are a funny breed 

Flower Show organisers

Breast Feeding

 

I’m tired and after a sit down with a Welsh licking my feet, I will have a gin and will go to bed.

I’ve seen clients this morning and met a friend for lunch, then shopped for things for the flower show . 

Instead of garden flowers to decorate each tea table  I’ve bought a delicate single potted cyclamen which will be given as a gift to the volunteers and some of the elderly people  of the village when we close.

Pippa who is in her seventies ,stopped me when I was approaching the cottage and talked at length about the show

She got off onto a tangent and suddenly she was sharing that she stopped breast feeding because her son bit her once.

Red faced I  gave my excuses and raced for home 

Time To Watch The Clouds

This melancholic lullaby by my lisping Choir suits today’s mood  perfectly.

I caught up with an old friend last night for a meal at The Goat and he looked tired and a little sad

Life can be a slog at times and sometimes all you can do as a friend is listen and understand.

It was lovely to see him.

I’ve done a little more of that this morning as I complete my nursing revalidation, sat at the kitchen table,

And from time to time, in between sad texts and messages, I’ve allowed myself to daydream and get lost in the art wall, where the Chicken is always smiling and the wide eyed dogs are galloping joyfully towards the hills.

I’m not depressed or down today, …..I’m reflective

There’s more sadness that’s been passed on to me today that I don’t need to share, and this in turn has recharged old memories and feelings. 

It’s hard to soak up a great deal, of sadness and pain and stress, not that anyone is forcing it on me, but when I mean soak up, I mean to assimilate it, to process it. 

Now follow me right now, drop what you are doing and go out in your garden, or your park, or your nearest patch of green.

It’s grey here with the gentle hint of rain 

There’s a breeze blowing too.

Now lie down on the grass,

my grass is cool and damp and luxurious 

And watch the clouds 

Like rabbits do when they think you cannot see them