Basically, it's been constant glamour and loveliness here: one very naughty dog, gallons of mud, one chewed up sofa, two pre-teen/teen boys ("But I had a shower yesterday!"), me and my increasing resemblance to the love child of Norma Desmond and Blanche Dubois and Mr B, trudging bravely on amid the chaos, hoping for a nice quiet cup of tea and a browse of the Hayter lawnmower catalogue.
Here are some visual aids:
Monty dog the Border terrier as a pup
Monty dog as he is now.
He is IN DISGRACE as, to celebrate the very first night of our new kitchen floor*, he (stop reading now if you are of a delicate disposition) wee'd on it....and in a most cunning manner: having carefully studied the lay of the land, he chose a spot where almost all evidence ran away UNDER the fridge/freezer. Nothing says glamour like crouching down shoving a dusting stick thingie under the fridge at 7am shouting, "Actually I hope it is wee, otherwise the freezer is leaking!"
Mud as experienced as new dog owner during the wettest winter ever.
Bluebells in the woods.
Me grinning like a maniac, with 2 hours worth of make up and special lighting from the film studio (Norma, I told you) in the lovely MaiTai's collage of ladies wearing their Hermes. Yes, I have caught Scarflet Fever, a seriously bad dose...
Now, it's not all glamour round here, no, we also nurture ourselves intellectually and culturally: I have a met a lovely lady while dog walking, she also has a Border Terrier, Maggie (she views Monty with cautious disdain, as he rolls in unspeakable substances or steals other dogs' toys). Here is a visual of Monty and Maggie, he has a wolfish Jack Nicholson grin as he has finally managed to lure a girl back to his place:
Scene - the kitchen, one night, late
Mr B: What are these meatballs doing here?
Me: (head in book, totally absorbed) They are de-frosting
Mr B (sounding anxious): So shall I just leave them there?
Me: Mmmm, what ? yes.
Mr B: (hovering) But will they be ok, they are not in the fridge?
Me: (in ever so slightly exasperated tone): Yeah, they'll be fine
Mr B: But ....
Me: THEY ARE DEFROSTING LEAVE ME ALONE !!!!! UNLESS YOU WANT TO SEEK MEDICAL HELP TO REMOVE MEATBALLS FROM..
Mr B: ok, ok, I was only asking..
Yes, it's the sort of book you can't stop reading, and any interruptions cause resentment possibly followed by violence..
As a bonus, the thriller is partly set in our corner of the world in Buckinghamshire and there is even a passing shout-out to our local Tesco, what more can one want?
a) follow my blog and
b) leave a comment below headed GIVE ME A FREE BOOK, telling me your most recent high glamour moment (either real glamour or my version of "dog wee under fridge"glamour).
All "entries" for the book giveaway should be made by 30 June, I will then write names of all entrants on pieces of paper and see which piece Monty dog tries to eat....that's definitely fair! Of course, if he manages to eat the paper completely we may have to wait a day or so before we get the result...anyone disputing the judge's decision can come and examine the results themselves.
Right, there are strange noises coming from the kitchen, think Monty Dog might be making further improvements to the kitchen floor.
* Pretentious, comme toujours
** Monty Dog ate chunks of the original floor
|It was not me...also I appear to have turned into an Ewok thingie from Star Wars|