Dancing on the ceiling...
Carrying on from yesterday, thoughts now turn to the house. This would be the house which will be seen on national television some time in the future.
First thing to go will be the lounge carpet. Now this is relatively new, but Reg (the puppy on borrowed time) has pee'd so many times on the carpet that it now resembles a 1970's tie-dye shirt. If only schnauzers were bigger, I could have trained him and Percy to stretch over the carpet and conceal the worst bits, lying on the grey shag pile like a couple of page three models.
Next thing that needs attention will be the front lawn. First impressions are ever so important, and I'd rather the public's one of me was not as a lazy cow who couldn't be bothered to get the lawn mower out once in a while. If it isn't done soon, the nice television lady won't be able to even find the front door, such are the dizzy heights the weeds are achieving. Of course, I am barred from the lawnmower as it is the husband's domain (Blue Job), but still....
We'll have to buy a new dinner service, probably from John Lewis rather than the usual Wilko. My functional white plates scream 'easily and cheaply replaced when one is broken', whereas I would rather be seen as a classy lady who entertains on a regular basis. My friends who read this, will probably stop laughing around November at this last comment. I think my last dinner party was March 2015 - it was a big one though. Twenty people, one table, two slow cookers and dancing on the table at 3.00am. I suppose it's no wonder I haven't recovered enough to do it all again yet...
The dogs will have to go and live somewhere else for at least one week before filming, during filming and one week after filming. They will go before to give me time to pick up all the half eaten bits of food which Reg has secreted under upholstery, cushions, pillows and rugs. It would also be quite nice to be able to see out of the lower window where they insist on pushing their wet noses. Lady H (the Wonder Woman of Domestic Resuscitation) will have her work cut out that week I can tell you.
Talking of wet noses, that is as good a reason as any to keep them away from the house on filming day. That and the continuous 'big eye' treatment which they inflict on anyone with a pulse. I have a feeling that the cameraman might change his mind about the type of film he wants to do, preferring to engage with the two furballs rather than the menopausal woman on the sofa. Let's face it, they're a lot cuter and less unlikely to attack you with a blunt instrument.
And of course they won't be able to move back in till at least a week after the filming is over. I'll be enjoying longer lay-ins (those wet noses again) not worrying over how to cover up another part of destroyed carpet, and won't be breaking up fights every half hour.
And when it's all over, we'll go back to normal.
Dishevelled, messy, shabby and slightly tired round the edges.
Oh and the house will go back to its usual state too....
First thing to go will be the lounge carpet. Now this is relatively new, but Reg (the puppy on borrowed time) has pee'd so many times on the carpet that it now resembles a 1970's tie-dye shirt. If only schnauzers were bigger, I could have trained him and Percy to stretch over the carpet and conceal the worst bits, lying on the grey shag pile like a couple of page three models.
Next thing that needs attention will be the front lawn. First impressions are ever so important, and I'd rather the public's one of me was not as a lazy cow who couldn't be bothered to get the lawn mower out once in a while. If it isn't done soon, the nice television lady won't be able to even find the front door, such are the dizzy heights the weeds are achieving. Of course, I am barred from the lawnmower as it is the husband's domain (Blue Job), but still....
We'll have to buy a new dinner service, probably from John Lewis rather than the usual Wilko. My functional white plates scream 'easily and cheaply replaced when one is broken', whereas I would rather be seen as a classy lady who entertains on a regular basis. My friends who read this, will probably stop laughing around November at this last comment. I think my last dinner party was March 2015 - it was a big one though. Twenty people, one table, two slow cookers and dancing on the table at 3.00am. I suppose it's no wonder I haven't recovered enough to do it all again yet...
The dogs will have to go and live somewhere else for at least one week before filming, during filming and one week after filming. They will go before to give me time to pick up all the half eaten bits of food which Reg has secreted under upholstery, cushions, pillows and rugs. It would also be quite nice to be able to see out of the lower window where they insist on pushing their wet noses. Lady H (the Wonder Woman of Domestic Resuscitation) will have her work cut out that week I can tell you.
Talking of wet noses, that is as good a reason as any to keep them away from the house on filming day. That and the continuous 'big eye' treatment which they inflict on anyone with a pulse. I have a feeling that the cameraman might change his mind about the type of film he wants to do, preferring to engage with the two furballs rather than the menopausal woman on the sofa. Let's face it, they're a lot cuter and less unlikely to attack you with a blunt instrument.
And of course they won't be able to move back in till at least a week after the filming is over. I'll be enjoying longer lay-ins (those wet noses again) not worrying over how to cover up another part of destroyed carpet, and won't be breaking up fights every half hour.
And when it's all over, we'll go back to normal.
Dishevelled, messy, shabby and slightly tired round the edges.
Oh and the house will go back to its usual state too....
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