ON WITH THE MOTLEY

Thursday morning dawned fresh and fair,unfortunately it was almost all down hill from there. On looking out over the garden from my bedroom window I observed that yet another young wood pigeon had fallen prey to our voracious young foxes. While I would be the first to admit that there are far too many wood pigeons about for the welfare of my lettuces I would prefer not to have the evidence of their gory demise displayed so brazenly across the garden path.

Pa had an early appointment to have his ears syringed again, a return bout as it were, and he chose this morning to get up late. We called, we shouted, we begged and we pleaded and in the end he reluctantly upraised himself and then began the slow and painful business of getting him ready to leave. Mt son , always ready with a joke remarked that on Pa's tombstone would be the legend “Here will lie the remains of Pa, .
Whom we shall never forget.
We should have buried him by now
But he has n't got here yet!”.”
It made me laugh but it did not speed the old chap up one little bit.

Having sent him on his way I retuned to the house to wash my hair but was fore stalled by a panicky telephone call from a friend who told me that she had heard that a tree was to be felled in a local park and would I please phone the planning department and ask why? Since she had a telephone why did she not call them herself? She told me that she had already called another committee member about it and that she had been advised to ask me to make the call. I say again why?
Busy as I was I emailed the appropriate department and called my persecutor to tell her what I had done.
“Could I possibly go down to have a look what was going on as she was too busy to go herself?”
How I managed to remain polite in the face of such provocation I shall never know and “NO” was my reply!
Some peoples idea of active conservation is to tell some one else and get them to sort it out,it is an attitude which I deplore.

By the time I at last managed to wash my hair I was well behind with the days duties so I rushed down stairs to the kitchen to begin at last. First on the agenda was a very large batch of treacle oaties, a biscuit of with Pa among others is inordinately fond and since I have nit made them for some time it seemed a good idea to treat him to a favourite cookie of two after his ordeal. They are like most biscuits very easy to make and soon I had six dozen crunch golden cookies cooling on racks on the kitchen table. It was as I cleared the kitchen that I began to wonder why Pa was so late getting home.

I called him on his mobile and got no reply, I began to prepare his lunch and called again, by now it was twelve thirty and this time he answered. He was, he said in Morrissons picking up a few odds and ends and would be home within the hour. I continued to prepare him a lunch of salad, crab terrine tomatoes and crusty bread, he had not eaten before he left home for his appointment and I wanted to be sure he ate well on his return, it was two thirty before he arrived, how can he possibly have spent three hours in Morrison's, perhaps he is having an affair.......perhaps there is another woman.....the poor soul has all my sympathy if so !

Having footled away half of the afternoon waiting for Pa to come home there was not time to do any thing constructive such as make apple jelly of hoe up the garden so I cut my losses and made a few early preparations for dinner which was to be marinaded chicken skewers with tabbouleh mixed salad., roast peppers and fajitas, quick and simple to do, with a griddle much can be done quickly.

I decided not to fret about the jobs I had not been able to do, after all there is always tomorrow,the main thing is that Pa can now hear again as the syringing worked this time. It hurt poor old Pa rather so I was glad that I had a treat ready for him, a tin of his favourite cookies on his desk all ready to be munched with a cup of tea.
One thing about Pa that must be mentioned is his courage, he has gone through numerous serious operations and endless invasive tests without complaint.
He can be a pest at time but he is so very brave and we are as proud of him as we can well be

It is evening now, the breeze which has blow all day has dropped and the sun is slanting low over the trees in the shelter belt. Twiggy is stalking about the garden while Pa picks her some cat nip. From the bathroom comes the splashing of my son taking a bath before work. There is a certain comfort in these small every day things, I feel that as long as these things go on all will be well with my little world.