Sunday on a typical average quiet autumn
day can be very quiet and this was the case today. I think everyone is in a
slight state of limbo as the house is slowly vanishing into boxes and therefore
I no longer know exactly where anything is. What with that and the making
things and training the dog to tightrope walk blindfolded while juggling
chainsaws. We really are somewhat disjointed at present.
When I say disjointed I
don’t mean the dog has been removing bits of us accidently with the chainsaws
when he drops them while practicing his high wire act. No it’s life that is
disjointed (not as in its life Jim but
not as we know IT but as in Life the Universe and Stuff). Now look I’m off
on a tangent now when I need to be back writing a diary and mum has shouted
IDIOT at me from the roof. She is repairing the satellite dish for her sub
ether short wave radio which she contacts her spy friends on although I am not
allowed to say that ………….. AH. Mum has shouted IDIOT at me again and has thrown
a roof tile at me. She threw that a bit wide so when I ducked it has hit Mr
Jenkins’s greenhouse. You know the Armadillo greenhouse which mum and dad built
for him way back in the early pages of book one. PHEW that was a long time ago
time flies.
I have managed to move some
heavy bits from one place to another so that they can be moved again before we
move; then we will be able to move them to the new house so we can move them to
their new finally place of rest. Moving house is apparently like this; a lot of
thing are moved several times unless of course you pay loads of money to a gang
of 400 men who turn up at midnight on the day of moving and move it all in one
go to the new house. But if you do that dad tells me it takes twenty five years
to find everything again and in general you give up half way through and hide
half the boxes and then forget what is in them.
That would be just too
stressful for me and dad the thought of loads of boxes with stuff in that we
would never be able to unpack and leaving all those things lying about in sheds
for years to look at, thinking one day that will be really useful. Mum has
shouted IDIOT again and hit Fluffy the cat with a tile now. It’s a bit windy so
her aim is rubbish. It has put the dog off his high wire act too he has fallen
in the pond with three chainsaws running. The dog is OK, I think but we will be
having Goldfish fritters for tea now …………… YUM mum has shouted IDIOT again.
Anyway as I said at the start just your average quiet Sunday in
the Welsh hills really.
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