A SINGLE MUM'S (my daughter's) DAY
Today is D I Y day again, this time a bedroom is at risk. All the old cup boards and the wardrobe have been broken up and pulled out, and now recline in various positions, a little like Jacob Rees-
Mogg,
on my back-patio.
The cushions for the sitting room are done and already bear the imprints of my head, the cats, the dog and my books. The remotes for the T V are in the crevices. Good place to be as I don't need to search
anywhere else.
In between, the woman of the household cleaned and disinfected the cat pee. Pepper, our black-and white cat, which actually has a brain, (unlike Boo-boo, who is a large brain-dead fur-ball) had a confrontation with a big vehicle, some years ago, which she lost. She was a year old and pee is something she has no control over. She's pretty good, especially in finding me when I go to bed, to make me feel she absolutely adores me. This is a myth -- what she wants is a prolonged scratching of her chin and neck, to the accompaniment of loud purrs.
The woman, my girl, then sat down and had a good cry over the lorry deaths, cursed Priti Patel and the Tory Government, and made me my third cup of tea. (Few more to come.)
Later she will drive her teen daughter to Beckenham, to a friend's house, about 45 minutes each way, for a dose of half-term titivation.
Meanwhile, what did senior Nana do? Faffed around the garden after the gardener, watched the Brexit parade and gave staunch advice to daughter as she worked. I am good at that. Advice is normally largely ignored.
It is a busy day. We have to get back in time to watch Liverpool play Napoli. The Press keeps telling us we have a poor away record. True, True... I wonder -- however did we win the Chaampions' Leagues last year?
Today is D I Y day again, this time a bedroom is at risk. All the old cup boards and the wardrobe have been broken up and pulled out, and now recline in various positions, a little like Jacob Rees-
Mogg,
on my back-patio.The cushions for the sitting room are done and already bear the imprints of my head, the cats, the dog and my books. The remotes for the T V are in the crevices. Good place to be as I don't need to search
anywhere else.In between, the woman of the household cleaned and disinfected the cat pee. Pepper, our black-and white cat, which actually has a brain, (unlike Boo-boo, who is a large brain-dead fur-ball) had a confrontation with a big vehicle, some years ago, which she lost. She was a year old and pee is something she has no control over. She's pretty good, especially in finding me when I go to bed, to make me feel she absolutely adores me. This is a myth -- what she wants is a prolonged scratching of her chin and neck, to the accompaniment of loud purrs.
The woman, my girl, then sat down and had a good cry over the lorry deaths, cursed Priti Patel and the Tory Government, and made me my third cup of tea. (Few more to come.)
Later she will drive her teen daughter to Beckenham, to a friend's house, about 45 minutes each way, for a dose of half-term titivation.
Meanwhile, what did senior Nana do? Faffed around the garden after the gardener, watched the Brexit parade and gave staunch advice to daughter as she worked. I am good at that. Advice is normally largely ignored.
It is a busy day. We have to get back in time to watch Liverpool play Napoli. The Press keeps telling us we have a poor away record. True, True... I wonder -- however did we win the Chaampions' Leagues last year?
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