Thursday, 24 March 2011

Day No 3 in Bob the Builder land. I now have a large gaping wound in my back lawn, holes in my driveway and safety tape strung across my front step. I observed the disaster zone as Hannibal, cigar hanging from gob and a**e hanging from jeans, grinned and said, 'I'll be worth it in the end Hen'. Of course ironically the weather is reaching tropical proportions for this time of  year and I have finally managed to part company with my padded coat. It is brilliant drying weather but I can't peg out my washing because of clouds of dust and cigar reek. I will have the only house in the street with nicotine stains on the outside walls.....

Had arranged to go down to sew the elephant ears this afternoon only to get a curt phone call  on the way there from S,  informing me the school was trying to get me. I arrived in school to find H in the sick room with a long face informing me he 'had a sore tummy'.  I took one look at him and instinct told  me he was at it. As it was lunch time I took him to the cafe for observation. There he scoffed a roll on sausage but insisted he was still sore. I took him home, more because VT looked at me like I was an uncaring mother,  than because I truly believed he was ill. I put on the telly and left him on the couch to hoover the bedroom. Five minutes later I found him chatting to the builders in the midst of the muck. Take what he got......