Friday, September 14, 2007

Well that was a fun week. We spent (mostly the Boff, but me too latterly as it is a foul job and probably in contravention of the Human Rights Act) the weekend crawling around in the 18 inch gap under the floorboards pushing foul sheeps' wool into the gaps between joists and thanking our lucky stars it wasn't rock wool, Dill went back to school in her new and improved school building, which under its new ownership has had so much money poured into it that not only are they having to sell their house, but it is also now technogically state of the art, and we are having to have a new doorstep and a few new floorboards magicked up by our wonderful joiner friend since I put my foot through soe really rotten ones. On Thursday, our neighbours bade us come round to wreck their kitchen roof- more accurately to strip it of its tiles, following which we had an impromptu barbecue and got us and the children to bed rather late. So, to recap: I have sore thumbs, grit and wool in my eyes, I am exhausted by masses of physical toil, and we haven't finished yet.

Oh, and I accidentally let my domain expire. And I had lots of thoughts, all of which I decided would make quite interesting novels, and have spent some time writing in my mind whilst doing relatively mindless toil. So, all fun and games here.

Thursday, September 13, 2007

In case anyone was wondering where I'd got to... 

Ah well, so I kind of accidentally let my domain name expire while I was under the floor. It could happen to anyone.

Tuesday, September 04, 2007


I have just ordered 170kg of sheeps' wool. Why?

Sunday, September 02, 2007

And in other news... 

1) "Whoever said that chickens weren't clever?" Thus spake The Boff as he returned from witnessing our birds fluttering onto the roof of the coop, jumping onto the branch of an overhanging for tree, shuffling sideways until over the new 6 foot chicken wire fence we built on Thursday evening to reach their favourite roosting tree on the other side. They learned to do that in one day. Not to keep out predators, the fence, but to contain the bally chickens, who insist on mocking our every attempt to contain them. I myself saw a cockerel walk straight at the electric fence on Wednesday, admittedly switched off at the time, and continue walking until the fence buckled and he could just step over.

Why oh why are our chickens the only ones in the world able to outwit containment measures? It's just not right.

2) Also on Thursday, my sister's psycho ex was sentenced to a year's lifestyle cramping. Not a prison sentence, but damned near: 12 month restraining order, 12 months' weekly probation meetings with attendance at such courses as the probation service sees fit, 12 months community service. He was bloody lucky not to go to prison. Or maybe he was hoping for prison, so as to have one more thing to hold against my sister.

3) The Boff was asked to apply for a job in Boulder, Colorado. Which in case you don't know it, is a very nice city with a perfect climate, dry and warm in summer, snowy and dry in winter, tons to do for the outdoorsy person, excellent high school in which one may study the International Baccalaureate without having to sell a limb to pay for it. The job would pay twice the money he's on now, even taking into account the very favourable exchange rate at present, has tenure, and would be a highly respected position with recognition for his abilities, as opposed to the stultifying structure he finds himself in at the moment.

He doesn't want to apply for it.

In fairness, he knows that their project is years behind the one he is working on and has certain massive flaws that would make starting from scratch a better option than writing endless patches. (The Boff has for the last 17 years been working on the same project, that will probably take at least the rest of his career, and the careers of a few more people besides) So, no Boulder then. Damnit.

Well, that and the post below pretty much sum up our week here in the Purple Towers. That and overhauling the cloakroom and clearing out outgrown winter- and foot- wear. Spanish Cheese is back tomorrow for a term, so today is our last en famille for three months and we're supposed to be going out for the day. I've been up since 5, sleepless and watching series 1 of the Gilmore Girls, which finally came from our film rental place. And now it seems that the children have also fallen for the Gilmore Girls, as they trooped in steadily from 7 and remained glued to it until 9.

Oh, and Dill is sick. I knew she would be. Only on Friday did I foolishly remark to my neighbour, touching wood and knowing I shouldn't, that I couldn't remember the last time Dill had been sick. The Gods of Hubris were clearly listening.

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