For a while now my youngest daughter has been wanting a double bed in her room. We have put her off for months, until the middle of last week, when Mr C and I travelled to Ikea in Milton Keynes on a mission. It was a really lovely experience; surprisingly there were no hoards apart from at the checkouts. I was disappointed that we couldn't have meatballs, and there were some areas cordoned off with hazard tape, but otherwise it was the same old Ikea. We managed to fill a trolley, picked up some real bargains, and came home with many things we hadn't even realised we needed. Marigold didn't know that we were buying the bed; we had told her that we were just going to look and it would be delivered at a later date. It was going to be the best surprise ever. We dismantled her old single bed, moved her belongings out of the way and Mr C started building. The frame was ready, and all he needed was to fix the central bar on which all of the slats would rest. Only there was no central bar. We had not picked it up from the warehouse, and it was too late to go back. We considered the delivery option, but it was going to cost a fortune and would not arrive until 4th May. Poor Marigold did not come home to the marvellous surprise we had anticipated but instead, to a night in the spare room, sleeping on a pile of mattresses. The next morning she looked dreadful and said that she had not slept well at all. Perhaps there was a pea hidden beneath those mattresses, which proves that she is a princess, even if she doesn't look or speak like one. She was very grateful in the end, especially to Mr C who drove back to Ikea the following morning and then spent the rest of the day juggling slats and swearing rather a lot.
Marigold's school have been excellent at keeping us up to date with new arrangements for GCSEs, and have encouraged parents to email questions, and provided links to relevant websites. I read through the documents last week and sent a couple of questions, and later watched the webinar to find out more. When the webinar ended, I went to tell Mr C all about it, when the phone rang. I was very surprised to be greeted by the headmistress, calling to thank me for my excellent questions, and to check that they had all been answered satisfactorily. Less than a minute into the call, it started. Mr C had fallen asleep and was snoring very loudly (he's had a busy week.). Our phone receiver is very temperamental and if you try to stretch it, for example so that you can reach to poke someone in the face, it is likely to disconnect the call. So without really thinking of the consequences, but with few other options, I picked up my slipper and aimed it at his face, throwing it harder than I meant to. I just wanted him to stop. The noise was unmistakably snoring and I was mortified, as I did not want anything to spoil the glory of having been the best asker of questions..
'What the hell was that? ' he bellowed, rudely roused from his slumbers by a sheepskin moccasin to the face. I put my finger to my lips and silently shushed him, but he continued to rant (thankfully no swearing by some miracle), and I was forced to bring the call to a hasty end.
I feel fairly reassured that all will be well, and am hoping for a good outcome for Marigold at the end of her studies. . We have been getting on much better for the last few weeks and she has been quite affectionate and loving, although the kind words are sometimes accompanied by a sting in the tail. Last week she told me that she liked my hair, which has not been cut or coloured since the beginning of December.
'That length really suits you. Yes you should keep it like that.'
Last Summer, I deliberated long and hard whether to go shorter, feeling as if my hair was becoming straw-like and old ladyish, in tune with my mum's warning of not having long hair beyond the age of 40. I had pushed it a bit, and decided that at 51, my time had come. I quite liked it shorter, and had been relatively happy with the idea of saying goodbye to the long locks. And now she has made me wonder whether the short hair was not the best look for me. Food for thought!
And then yesterday, she told me she really liked my outfit, which she NEVER says, but I was happy to accept the compliment.
'You remind me of that woman from Harry Potter,' she said.
I prepared for the worst. Maggie Smith? (Professor McGonagall ) Mrs Dursley (Fiona Shaw) maybe, or Aunt Marge (Pam Ferris?) I hoped it wouldn't be Professor Sprout (Miriam Margoyles). But no, it wasn't any of these.
What's her name,' she said. ' You know who I mean.'
Hermione? Tonks? Or Fleur. Please let her mean Fleur.
'The nasty one. With the kittens on her wall.'
It was worse than I thought. She couldn't have done more damage had she shot me with a crossbow. I looked down at my floral dress with its frilly neck and my bright turquoise tights and mentally filled up another bag for the charity shop.
My wardrobe is full to bursting with clothes which no longer fit me. And now even the ones which do are being savaged by these daughters of mine, who are both so good at it. A few weeks earlier I bought what I thought was a really lovely khaki button down shirt dress with a fullish skirt.
'Nice dress,' said The Lone Ranger.
'Thanks, I am really pleased with it,' I replied, hoping that Pansy would stop there. She didn't.
'I dont know why, but I'm getting Trunchbull vibes.'
Right between the eyes!
Mr C has bought a new doorbell, which is not turning out to be the great success we had hoped for. The AA batteries didn't fit, so he had to buy special ones, as well as a non-standard battery charger. It has ended up being quite an expensive business, especially as the doorbell falls off the front door, leaving an ugly white sticker (see photo) and lands on the floor, spilling non-standard batteries all over the doorstep almost immediately after it is installed. That is the main problem, but not the only one.
After many hours of faffing about, we got the doorbell to pair with both our mobile phones, so we can see who is at the door, and even communicate with them. But then it unpaired and we had to start all over again. And for the three or four minutes when it remained stuck to the front door and connected with our phones, it sent alerts every time a cat farted anywhere within a mile of our front door. And there are many farting cats in Moulton, let me tell you. It is the latest in a very long line of doorbell related disasters, and the front door and surrounding area are littered with the skeletons of previous failed attempts. I think I prefer knockers!
Good News Round Up
My car has been fixed, and I am back in business.
I have been converted to the shark hoover, and have more or less worked out how to use it.
I am sticking to the physio for my achilles tendonitis and it does appear to be improving. I felt like running whilst walking around a big empty field during the week, and was surprised to find that I can still do it, although probably had I run for longer than two minutes, I might have struggled. Maybe by August I will be ready to start Couch to 5K again.
Writing is going well. I have left books 2 and 3 for a while, and will return to them when the time is right. I find that I am really benefitting from time apart, a bit like a holiday, and will hopefully return invigorated and refreshed, full of enthusiasm and new ideas. My latest masterpiece (number 4) has the working title 'Splinters and Dust', and is a domestic noir, and a mystery. I am so desperate to talk about it, but I need to keep it under wraps as I don't want to give away any spoilers. This one is more plot driven, which is a change of direction for me, and I am really enjoying weaving those webs.
I am listening to 'The Seven Sisters' by Lucinda Riley on Audio, and not loving it. I have seen plenty of great reviews, but it's not for me. I am looking forward to starting The Glass House by Eve Chase. She also wrote 'The Vanishing of Audrey Wilde, which I loved, so I'm hoping it will be a good one. I am always looking for recommendations, so please let me know if you have read something fabulous.
I am still gripped by Line of Duty, although I have no idea who most of the characters are, or what happened in previous episodes. I am just assuming that everyone else watching is in the same boat, and that it will all become clear in next week's final episode. I have to keep rewinding because I miss so much of what they say, especially Steve. It is only a matter of time until the subtitles are on permanently. If only I could work out which button to press on the remote. Mother of God!
I watched the first episode of Mare of East Town, which looks very interesting. I soon forgot about Kate Winslet looking a bit grubby and speaking with an American accent, as it is really quite pacey. And I am excited to watch 'Promising Young Woman' on Netflix. I will let you know how that goes.
I have been for some nice walks - mostly the same old local ones, to Crowfields in Moulton and Bradlaugh Fields. But also, for the first time in many years, on the way home from Ikea, we stopped off at Stoke Bruerne and I walked along by the canal. It is such a beautiful spot on a sunny day. So green, with sunlight bursting through the trees, and the canal, also green but in a good way.
