It’s always nice to sleep at night but there is some sort of devil thing which has other plans for moi. I sent the blessed Sainted One away this weekend, or at least he won’t have guessed that until he slyly reads my blog which although he contemptuously denies so doing, I know he does, because he sometimes inadvertently lets slip things that I have only told all of you in the utmost secrecy. Well off he went to our Island house … to check it out after a holiday let to some delightful persons and their lovely hairless doggies . Of course it was all perfect.
As I am basically a plug in kitchen facility and things are very hectic here, I felt justified in passing on his catering arrangements as I am in the middle of some important work…. And the house is in chaos because our lovely painter , who says our house is like the Forth Bridge, only works at weekends and a wall in the downstairs lavatory has collapsed etc etc . I visualized seraphic quiet and no cooking. I suggested M and S on the A3 .I don’t think this was a popular plan since shopping in any form is regarded as a great evil. … there is not much innovation in that department and once I noticed the dogs dinner had been consumed in my absence, it was voted a great success “one of your best” … next time I will serve it with some pastry and a sprinkling of washing powder on my diet day, and see if it is noticed.
Well the sleep plan was a disaster, a visitor, or what one could call a paying guest arrived to occupy our studio at the top of the house for four days; very nice and all that, but on the first night I am woken at five forty five AM to a strange jangling noise as my brass bed begins to disintegrate. The house is vibrating and the ceiling is popping and then it stops. I think in a mad way it must have been a minor earth tremor, unused as I am to those.. I know what you are thinking .. oh yes you are…. but I didn’t mean that. Anyway sleep is not possible after that and I am in a vile mood for a while. Of course I soon realize it must be something to do with our visitor of course, but I did not like to say anything being of such a shy retiring nature. The next night it is the same dreadful dawn awakening, this time there are bits of plaster falling on me like snow . So I come downstairs to work it is dark! !!!! Polite enquiries reveal that our visitor likes a particularly energetic form of Yoga at dawn and had not considered the impact on an old Victorian house. It did not happen this morning. But the devil was at work and at the crack of dawn again. I got a call from a nutter which I had to answer because I often get flood warnings from the Island telling me to move my livestock to higher ground, and after all I wouldn’t want the Sainted One to drown.
Actually all the cupboards and beds were full of people the moment the Sainted One set off down the A3 because the word gets round, it’s as if the parents are away… and the great thing is that I am not really a parent or grandparent to all these people because they do not take me seriously at all . Actually it is a great compliment and we had a ball and I completely adore them, but I would like a bit of quiet now just to get ready for the next adventure. The Sainted One has returned looking like Ashley in Gone With the Wind when he comes up the drive after the civil war. I am sure he was shocked to be greeted by Dracula’s mother and there is again an air of disapproval. Few words are exchanged but silence is golden ..or is it???