Wednesday, 8 February 2017

Build me up, buttercup...

Mrs S paid a visit yesterday afternoon, accompanied by her son Master C who was nursing a junior version of man flu.  This is not to be confused with the life threatening adult man flu, but is more likely to come on when a Geography exam is imminent.  Needless to say, there was copious amounts of coughing and spluttering, and I expect to be doing the same in around ten days' time. 

Now Mrs S was only here on Sunday, so there wasn't really much for her to catch up on life wise.  The real reason she tipped up yesterday was because she has a load of builders in her house.  Now we all know what this means.  Dirty cups in the sink with squeezed teabags lovingly placed on the side, bacon rolls around 11.00, dust, Radio 1, more tea, and then biscuits for the afternoon.  The builders were having some issues with her ceiling, and the language was fairly ripe, and what with that and the fact that her new puppy kept going AWOL having learned how to climb a ladder, she decided to scoop the puppy and Master C up and head for the hills.  My hill, to be more precise.

The new puppy is adorable and is the same colour as my dining table, which makes me want to keep him, but my two fuzzballs have a slightly different reaction to this bundle of cuteness.  Percy completely ignores him, except for the odd bark here and there, whereas Reg is plotting something involving a one way ticket to Berlin (he's German you know) and a small suitcase.  I think it all fell apart for Reg when I bent down and acknowledged the puppy for the first time last week.  I could almost here his wails of despair, 'How can you even look at another dog? You have me, what more do you need you fickle cow?' 

To be fair, the puppy is gorgeous, and this means that scooping him up onto my lap for overpowering cuddles is obligatory.  Mrs S is not happy me doing this (she's trying to be strict, but she'll learn that the dogs make the rules, rather than the other way round) and she kept giving me that look which said. 'PUT. THE. PUPPY. DOWN'.  We had to keep taking him outside for a pee, not that he did a single one mind you, preferring to run around my garden like a wild thing and flicking the bird at Mrs S every time she mentioned the word 'wee'.  I expect he went in the car on the way home.  Mind you, no one likes a cold loo for a comfort break, and I suppose he is just the same, preferring the warm car to my damp lawn.

It was back to Pilates last night for week 4. I'm getting the hang of the exercises - just as I do however, the lovely Alex changes them and makes them harder, which means I am scrabbling about on my mat like an octopus on roller skates.  It's the whole left and right thing which does me in, and even Alex laughs at my attempts, although I do get there in the end.  I've met some lovely ladies there, and I am the youngest, which at 53 is quite odd.  The trouble is though, that if there are chairs which need stacking or something similar, I will be expected to do them being the youngest. 

But back to the annoying builders at Mrs S's house.  Did I mention that they are led by the husband?

No.  I didn't think so...

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