Well, I can hardly complain that things are quiet here. I’m busy preparing for the invasion of the fleas. No, not the pestilential kind (well, not really), but the little whirlwinds that are my twin niece and nephew, J&A, who earned the nickname when they were little and seemed to ping from place to place without ever standing still. They arrive on Saturday with my Dad and I’m so looking forward to it. I’m already working on a menu (although we’re heading out to eat on Saturday night) and also the logistics of where everyone is going to sleep. No doubt very little sleep and lots of giggling will be on the cards for Saturday night, but as they see each other so rarely, I’m sure it’ll be overlooked, especially if my disreputable Dad does his usual trick of adding to the mayhem.
After disappearing for several days, the fellas, A&J, are back to continue merrily destroying one side of the house (I’m not sure exactly why, but it’s something to do with finding where the waste to our en-suite goes). They soon discarded the kango, and have now moved on to a mini-digger with a kind of hammer-drill thingy attached to the end. The resulting din and vibration are somewhat akin to living inside a concrete mixer, but they seem to know what they’re doing. I think they regard us as slightly weird (although that’s probably more a generation gap than the Anglo/Irish divide), with our silly cars, indoor dogs and our mad gadgets. When they pop in for a cup of tea they eye Hubby’s ridiculously huge wide-screen TV suspiciously as if they might be sucked in if they stand too close.
I’m also reduced to talking to myself again as little Dizzy has gone back to J’s kennels with a view to being assessed for finding her a permanent home. We would have loved her to stay, but, although happy and affectionate, she struggled with the children: sometimes enjoying cuddles and giving them a good wash, but other times not wanting close contact with them, which proved very difficult to manage. It’s hard trying to explain to two little chaps that Dizzy doesn’t really want to be cuddled, and a couple of close calls were all it took for us (and J) to make up our minds that Dizzy would be happier in an adult home. Obviously one always has to be mindful with kids and dogs – any dogs - and although they tried to treat her with respect, especially with regard to her food and her bed, it was tough. More so with my two who were still missing their very cuddly relationship with B. Poor Dizzy has had a rough life up until now, and I hope we showed her that humans can be kind and gentle, but rest assured J will find her a loving home. I’ll keep you posted.
Not being a lover of housework, but mindful of our impending visitors, I did decide to throw caution to the wind and do a bit of cleaning – just so they didn’t actually leave footprints in the dusty floors. Imagine my surprise, then, when I moved one of the sofas to find poor, quadriplegic Nemo lurking limblessly there. I had a sudden attack of nostalgia for life with poor old B, especially in the knowledge that my Dad never even met her. I don’t know if it’s the anticipation of seeing my family or what, but I sat clutching this stumpy blue and yellow stuffed fish and sobbed big fat tears. No wonder the builders think we’re strange.