I am so sorry if you are bored with all this but I feel a pull to update everybody who is following all this with bated breath. We feel like the stars of a Dickens serialisation at the moment. If you want to read something else I have a couple of book reviews in the pipeline for the next couple of mid-weeks. More edifying hopefully. (Actually thinking about one of the books – no probably not that edifying. Still, at least it’s not about me).
We have re-arranged the appointment for Aged Parent’s scan results for the end of the week. Actually, that was close run thing because on receiving the letter with the new appointment time, AP promptly rang the Doctor’s secretary and cancelled it – saying she didn’t think she would be well enough. I rang her support worker with a VERY wobbly bottom lip and she rang the hospital and re-instated it. AP was told in no uncertain terms that she had to go. She pulled a strop which I then dealt with by telling her that she wouldn’t be moved to a new flat without these results. Cue miraculous recovery. We shall see.
Life with Morecambe took a turn for the worse when someone kindly put an unsigned note in our letterbox which told us in no uncertain terms to sort our noisy dog out. I mean, I have sympathy for their position but couldn’t they have knocked on the door and we would have been able to explain what is going on. Now, I am just giving everyone the evil eye in case THEY were the person. (I’m quite enjoying it really. It’s releasing tension) It’s not just us either HOH saw a note on a car in our underground car park whose driver had parked it badly. They had asked for a bit of grace for a week because their partner was disabled and they were trying out the wheelchair. Someone else had left a nasty note basically saying that wasn’t good enough. Again unsigned. I mean, what is wrong with people? I am aware that the best way to deal with this is to destroy this kind of stuff with excessive kindness. And when I am ready to stop swinging Thor’s Hammer of Death at everyone in the building, that will almost certainly be my next move.
We went to see dog lady trainer and when we eventually found it (Cornwall – would a couple of post 1963 signs actually kill you?) we found she lived in heaven. A country house with a couple of paddocks, donkeys, goats chickens and her own “neurotic” dogs. She was lovely but taking into account Morecambe’s age, she wasn’t sure if her strategies would work and, if they did, they would take several months to kick in. So now we have to find Doggy Day Care as they call it for the couple of days a week when we are both working. At the moment, we cannot find anything that is not in the centre of Dartmoor but we are working on it. On Doggy Lady’s advice we have also approached FOW 1 and 2 to see if they can dog-sit alternately once a fortnight so that we can go out in the evening once a week. They have been really nice and are happy to do it. According to Doggy Lady, this is important as we need to have a life so we don’t start resenting the dog. Am hoping that ship hasn’t already sailed.
The one thing that is really doing our head in is that we can’t really get to church. Our kids can’t sit for Morcs on Sunday morning for various logistical reasons, so we are stuck. As we were going to try a new church down the road, neither of us feel comfortable approaching the vicar for ideas. Have actually found myself thinking – Why would God do that? (Answers on a postcard please)
Anyway – to finish this laugh a minute I thought I could tell you what we had been watching this week. HOH is very exercised by the the return of Spiral which is a French detective drama where everyone looks like they could use a flippin good wash to be honest. I keep getting told off for saying things like “She looks like she smells”. I don’t watch it myself, although HOH assures me that that the body-count is disappointingly low. Yes – I’ve heard that before. Last programme he said that about, an eighty year old lady had a hood over her head in the first ten minutes. We also watched a documentary about Leonard Cohen and a lady called Marianne who was apparently his muse. I didn’t think I could actually whistle a Leonard Cohen tune but it turned out I knew quite a lot. The whole film was a huge advert for not doing drugs – ever. Everyone had been taking loads of stuff that made them act horribly and ignore their children until they also went bonkers. Also everyone in it had terrible teeth and – well I’ll be frank – looked like they smelled. Also, being Leonard Cohen’s muse seemed to involve cooking and cleaning for him while he rolled around the world experimenting sexually with every woman with a pulse while all his friends described him as a feminist.
So to end on the joy that is Great British Bake Off. I didn’t watch the first season when it moved to Channel 4 but I watch it now because everyone is just so lovely. (I take no notice of the judges. I’m not entirely convinced that Paul Hollywood can bake at all. Have you ever seen him make anything? Without Mary Berry that is.) I just love the contestants. I love how much they support each other and smile and laugh and hug. I love the way they hold hands when the judgement is coming. And Henry makes me laugh. I even laughed at a Noel Fielding joke this week which is a first. They are just kind to each other. Not that difficult.