I seem to spend a lot of time on the EIOT blog writing the words ‘regular readers may remember’ and referring to events or actions that I have already submitted my musings about.
I am not sure if that means that actually my life is a series of recurring events that rarely vary, whether I cling onto events as actually they are quite a rare event in my mundane life and so grab hold of them with the ferocity of Donald Trump’s toupee clinging to his head or actually there is a rich tapestry of events in my life that are all interlinked and reliant on each other.
Whatever it may be the fact of the matter is that many of the EIOT posts are actually interlinked and refer to events referenced in other days.
So, apologies, but here goes with the statement ‘regular readers may remember’ the mention of the legend that is Mrs M. Yeap, my long-term buddy who once resided in Riyadh but has moved onto better things in Abu Dhabi and who regularly leads me into mischief and chaos – usually involving copious amounts of alcohol. Mrs M’s child of the testosterone filled variety is best buddy’s with our testosterone filled one and so all visits are doubly welcome.
Well Mrs M has come to visit here in darkest Cumbria, the alcohol has flowed, the boyish mischief has gone through the roof and generally there has been much fun and frivolity.
The chaos started as we met in a coffee shop nearby town, at which point my testosterone fuelled one made a paper aeroplane out of the menu and launched it across the busy cafe. The aeroplane bounced off one of the waitresses who was less than impressed and even more so when she realised that the aeroplane was made out of one of their menus.
At that point I legged it out of the cafe with the strawberry blond one to get her to her horse-riding course and left Mrs M with two excitable small men to cope with the annoyed waitress.
I make no apology for that.
So, the strawberry blond one has disappeared off for 4 days of horse-riding, among much excitement and disgust when she realised she was missing out on a visit from Mrs M.
This is becoming an annual event but this year there is one major difference – the weather. Last year the strawberry blond one returned wet, soggy and particularly smelly. This year I anticipate a return that is sweaty, grubby and particularly smelly.
Yeap – deepest Cumbria has been hit by the current heatwave, yeap the one day heatwave, the sweat will be pouring off the strawberry blond one and the horses alike – delightful.
God bless persil is all I can say.
So, Mrs M’s visit has been punctuated by enjoying the gorgeous Cumbrian countryside and after a picnic by a brook this lunchtime, this afternoon we went exploring across the footpaths with three grumpy children and a rugby ball, (Mrs M not only has a small testosterone filled one but also a small blond female one).
Now on this walk, close to the farm we were greeted by a rather agitated sheep and two lambs who had clearly escaped from their field and were a little upset.
As we were on a narrow footpath I heroically, (hey get me, countryside expert!), steered the agitated sheep and off-spring away from the children and Mrs M and ushered them past. This fact was lost on the children who whole-heartedly blamed me for not being there to stamp down the nettles and so were stung, next time I will leave them to an agitated sheep.
Anyway, I have just seen the dude that is our local friendly farmer to ask him if the escapees, (a ewe and two lambs), were his. Now, being a complete numpty when it comes to sheep I was particularly proud of my description of ‘a ewe and two lambs’ – that is as technical as I get.
So, imagine my dismay and complete surprise when he asked ‘what did they look like?’. Now I have to say I suspect a level of mischief in his voice but even so I was somewhat taken aback and just said, ‘well they looked like sheep to me’.
I have to say that while he may know every sheep in his flock by facial features, tone of ‘baa’, direction of wool quiff and attitude, to me they all look the same and so any distinguishing features were lost.
Now, I am still slightly taken aback by this conversation and trying to reason it in my head.
I have to say that he did take the conversation further by asking if they had horns or not, (I think he toned down the technical terminology for me in light of my somewhat bewildered look), and accompanied it be circular hand gestures around each side of his head that represented horns.
In a slightly bewildered and post half a bottle of Prosecco fashion, I replied that yes they did and he replied that they were not his but that they would be fine and they would be rescued later this evening.
I honestly think that the question, ‘what did they look like?’ will be lodged in my brain forever.
So, Mrs M in Cumbria. Now it is important to remember that Mrs M is well-travelled and has visited many places world-wide. However, this is her first trip to deepest Cumbria and it has been a bit of a shock to her system.
Yesterday, on arrival Mrs M had to follow me through the narrow country lanes to the cottage and I have to admit that knowing Mrs M may lack some driving confidence on narrow lanes, (completely unjustified I hasten to add), I found myself praying that we did not meet any large tractors with trailers, equipment or herds of livestock being herded from field to field.
With hindsight that would have been the least of our worries.
As I was in front I was slightly concerned to see a tourist, (yes, there are a couple of them every now and then), in a car towing a caravan down the narrow country lane. To make matters worse this was being followed by three cars and a van who were clearly not impressed to be behind a caravan.
I made it past and crawled up the road, looking in my rear view mirror for any sign of Mrs M. Nothing.
I pulled into a siding and waited, (I had two testosterone filled small men in the back seat who were bouncing as they had just been reunited).
Nothing. Nichts. Rien. No sign.
After a few minutes of concern, not to mention the three cars that has travelled towards the bottle neck, I turned around and meandered back.
There I saw a queue of cars, revving their engines. I got out of my car and walked to the front to see Mrs M and the caravan in a head to head situation, with a queue of traffic both ways.
I have to admit that I asked one chap who was complete with trailer what was going on and I was greeted with an expletive about caravan owners and women who cannot reverse, (sorry Mrs M!).
In her defence I have to say that Mrs M was pretty much in the hedge and unable to go any further over and the caravan was hogging the road…..
Anyway, with encouragement the caravan made its way past the debacle but Mrs M was greeted by my car facing her head on.
We eventually got the traffic cleared and having reversed back down the hill I turned around and we made it into the village – with me still praying, (and yes, I am one of the most nonreligious people around), that we did not meet a fully loaded and equipped tractor as so often happens.
Anyway, we finally made it to the cottage where Mrs M’s nerves were soothed with gin and a full recovery was achieved.
Mrs M has now installed the small young lady’s car seat into my car and I am driving everywhere. Mrs M is resolutely refusing to drive anywhere on the narrow Cumbrian lanes until her departure on Thursday.
So, to the final topic in the blog title. Just to once again go back to those immortal words ‘regular readers may remember’ that a few weeks ago I wrote a post about Justin Beaver – yes, that beaver.
Well Justin is as always loved and treasured but is showing signs of wear and tear.
After I made my way up to bed last night I was greeted by the sight of two small men in my bedroom – one of whom was looking rather upset. This individual looked forlornly at me with Justin in one hand the Justin’s tail in the other.
It transpired that a tug of war had gone wrong, (why they were not asleep and were actually having a tug of war is beyond me).
So, today I have spent a considerable amount of time looking carefully at Justin’s bottom, armed with a needle and thread and aided by Prosecco.
I am pleased to announce that the operation appears to have been successful, the tail is back in place and the beaver is in recovery.
The prognosis is good. Stand by for updates on Beaver health and rehabilitation.
Pass my the Prosecco somebody…..
Don’t forget to donate, this is all about raising money for Tommy’s