Over A Week Now
Well, it’s been over a week now since our son left home. There have been no phone calls begging to come home. No emergency cash handouts. No turning up to cut the grass for me (as promised). I did phone him on Sunday to see if he was coming round for Sunday Dinner (as arranged) It was 3.40PM when I woke him from his slumbers. By the sound of his voice he had had a rough night. He said he might be round after dinner to cut the grass. Dinner came and went. No sign of him. He did manage to pop round yesterday (Tuesday) and he stayed for approx 5 minutes. The grass was too wet to be cut!
I told you about his room being cleaned out. Well, after we got rid of the rubbish we were then able to actually start cleaning the place. I got down on my hands and knees to get into all the pokey wee bits with the vacuum cleaner. I reckon, not only did we get approx 100 crisp packets in the rubbish part of the job, I must have vacuumed up the contents of maybe 5 of those packets from the floor. Invitation for mice or what? The room actually smells clean now (due to the fact that we have left his window open and got rid of all the odd manky socks and trainers lying around. Next on the agenda is to decide on what paper to decorate with. I know what I want, my wife knows what she wants, it’s just a question of agreeing on the same thing. In the meantime his ceiling will be the first thing to be painted followed by the off white / yellow gloss work around the doors and skirting boards.
One of the other things we found tucked away in his wardrobe. Something that has been puzzling us for years. Why did we have to keep on buying video tapes all the time. We came across the reason. There were 26 video tapes stashed away in the bottom of his wardrobe. Now we always knew that he had the odd tape up there in his room, but 26! There were many other items we found but I won’t go into details as you might get embarrassed.
I’m sure it will look lovely once it’s done. Somewhere we can be proud to say to someone, you’re sleeping in here mate.
Coming back to our son. Tomorrow he is supposed to come round and repay me the loan I gave him for his first months rent. Not only that but there was a wee bit extra I lent him as well. Also, he is supposed to be giving me, for safe keeping, next months rent money so that he is not tempted to spend it in the publicans toilet. It will be interesting to see what he actually gives me. Not only that but it is his mothers birthday tomorrow as well. What will he bring with him, if he even remembers. I have just texted him to remind him. It wouldn’t be fair on him if he came round here empty handed. His mother would be devastated!!!
To change the subject matter now. When my Father passed away in April his partner asked me was there anything I would like belonging to him She , acting as executor to his estate, was just making sure that things were done properly. There were these figures of Indians about 3” tall that were made out of clay and represented all the cultural and caste differences of life in India in the 1940’s / 50’s. My mum and Dad lived out there during that period. Anyway, I had seen these Indian figures on a visit to my Dad in Toronto and I always liked them. So, I said I would like them. They were duly wrapped up, very very carefully I might add, and sent off to me. Two parcels eventually arrived and upon opening them I was horrified. Out of 56 figures only about 20 were complete. The rest were all broken. Heads, legs, arms etc all broken off. You would think that the boxes had been kicked about like a football. Anyway, after much sorting of broken limbs and heads I managed to put together all but 3 of the figures. They are now pride of place along the top gable wall of the conservatory looking down at us when we are in there. They look great. It is only upon very close inspection that you would notice any damage to them. They have already been spoken for by my daughter. When I die she wants them. I hope I don’t die, again, for a while yet!
My wife and I were out the other night at her bosses surprise retirement party that was held in the Pickie bowling Club. Very nice venue indeed. The idea was, apart from it being a total surprise, was that we would do all the catering. When it was being organised, round at our house, I was asked, or maybe I volunteered, to make something. I went for a fresh fruit salad dessert. My favourite. None of your tinned rubbish there. All nice fresh fruit. I duly arrived on the night with this work of art and it was put away until the main course had been finished with. Then, the desserts came out. Quite a few of them I may add. The queue started at the other end of the table where they were displayed. I was really pleased with myself. Everytime someone passed me they commented on the fresh fruit dessert and how lovely it was. Who made it? It’s delicious etc (someone even said it was a work of art) I was nearly going the colour of the strawberries that were in the salad by this time. Anyway. Mine was one of the desserts that was nearly eaten all up. Should anyone be having a self catered do in the future I am now hiring myself out for McDuff’s Fresh Fruit Salad for a very reasonable fee.
Father’s Day will soon be upon us. As usual, my kids don’t know what to buy their loving Father for this wondrous occasion. I have dropped hints. Lets see if the hint has been taken. What have I been hinting at? Clint Eastwood Grand Torino Blu Ray DVD of course. It will be interesting indeed.
Responses to this gack as usual always welcome. Just hit the title above
Okee Dokee for now folks
Posted :: Tuesday 6/16/2009 4:21:00 AM
Carrie
Carrie. No, not the creation of Stephen king Carrie. The creation of God Carrie. My Carrie. My little lovely adorable little Carrie. No telekinetic powers here. Just four legs, a tail, a head and a body in the middle. I am talking about my dog of course. At least one of them. The other one will be talked about later. For the moment Carrie is the centre of attention.
Why? She has just been diagnosed with cancer. The Big C. A tumour. A growth. Whatever.
This is a wee dog, well a big dog in reality. She is a Golden retriever. But we will refer to her as a wee dog. Or a wee doggie. A wee doggie who is full of mischief ever since she was a puppy. (she is now 9/10 years old) She has just undergone major surgery. When I say major, I mean major major, like your man out of Catch 22. She is on the road to recovery but I don’t think she realises just how short the rest of her wee life is going to be. I do. I wake up every morning and look at her to make sure that she is still breathing.
News flash News flash News flash
I have just had a call from the vet. He has explained to me in detail the nature of Carries problems. After he cut the tumour away he sent it over to Cambridge University for close inspection and comment. He has got word back that Carrie may yet have a stay of execution. The tumour may grow back again but it will be a period of months rather than weeks as was the case before. She may have another 22 months left in her yet according to statistics. Last week our vet was saying 2 days if we didn’t operate and even then he couldn’t guarantee anything. No wonder my vet was awarded The Vet Of The Year a couple of years ago. He is just brill.
Back to Carrie. Since we brought her home from the vets after her surgery she has been very quiet on things, to be expected, but as the days have passed she has been acting as though she were a puppy again. Maybe she does realise what she has been through and is making the most of the rest of her life.
As for our other dog, another Golden Retriever, except she is a blonde Golden Retriever, she can’t seem to understand why Carrie doesn’t want to play anymore. If only dogs could really understand humans then things would be so different.
Onto another part of our lives. This week our son moved out. Yes, he actually moved out and is now fending for himself in the big wide world. This all came about a couple of weeks ago. No, we didn’t have an argument or anything like that. He just came into the room one evening and stated to us very casually that he was thinking of moving out and going to share an apartment with a friend of his. We looked at him and I said ‘Go for it, Son’ (trying not to punch the air at the same time) My wife was the one who asked all the relevant questions like, where is it, who is it, why are you, and all those sort of questions. I, in the meantime was asking him did he need to borrow the rent money to get him started. Is it me or am I hard like that? Anyway, he moved out on Monday. I hope he makes a real go of it. He is 21 now and he needs to see what the real world is all about. How to pay bills etc. I have been round to see the apartment. It is absolutely brill. A nice new build apartment with all the mod cons included.
We have now started to clean his old room. Yesterday I got 5 bin bags of rubbish out of his room and that was just from under the bed and behind the furniture. I lost count of how many crisp packets there were. I reckon there must have been in excess of 100. My wife wants to take this opportunity of decorating his room and turning it into some sort of a guest room / spare room for clothes / walk in wardrobe. I have told my son he will always be welcome home if things don’t work out but he has to make a real go of things before he comes back. What will happen to the new room if he does come back?
We will wait and see
Any comments to make, especially directed to my son about life away from the home, please feel free to make them. Hit the Carrie title at the top and write away.
Woof Woof
Posted :: Wednesday 6/10/2009 3:01:00 AM
