Where has our clement summer gone?
i've only ventured out twice today, and both times, I received a proper good soaking. My hair now looks as though someone has run it through with a pair of hedgeclippers, then backcombed it for good measure. Even D wasn't impressed, and shouted a lot about it, even though he was being mostly sheltered by his running suburban mama at the time.
In fact, shouting has been the order of the day thus far for D. He started off the day with a thoroughly satisfactory shout over breakfast. Mainly due to the fact that he wasn't allowed to decorate the room with weetabix. (I suppose he did have a point in suggesting that it wouldn't actually make an awful lot of difference, given the room was already adorned with a thick layer of plaster dust and grease.)
The next big shout (and this was a biggie) was during our visit to B & Q in Weymouth, while I was checking out tiles for the bathroom and paints.
'Aren't these sandy coloured tiles lovely?' mummy asks. D disagrees, and disagrees loudly. His bellows actually reverberated round the corrogated steel walls of the B & Q warehouse. People actually stopped what there were doing in order to look and see where the tremendous noise had originated from. I shrank in embarrassment as D then launched into a full-on opus of shrieking and yelling, throwing himself around the trolley in the most alarming of fashions, while I hastily scuttled him over to the check out.
Of course, at check out, as soon as the check out girl smiled at him, he was all sweetness and light and little cute cooing noises, as though butter wouldn't melt in his mouth. Which left me, harrassed, sweating, flustered as I rummaged through my handbag to find the purse, only to realise that I'd already got it out, looking a little bit silly. Thanks D. Thanks a lot.
We then had a little shout about the nappy (didn't want to take it off, then didn't want to have another one on, so that's two shouts really), closely followed by a further shout about lunch, though he soon stopped shouting when he realised it was his favourite pasta and sweet potato cheesy sauce. Then he got stuck right in, only to start shouting again when I wouldn't allow him to cover his hair with the sauce. (I wouldn't mind so much, but he makes such a fuss when I try to clear him up!) And orange just isn't D's colour. He needs to learn these important life lessons.
All this while we attempt to wheel our way in and out through the swarms of builders. It's all activity today. After a week of seemingly not much going on, the new kitchen units have finally arrived, and everything is galvanised into action. Though regrettably, this does mean that the time has come for me to don my DIY cap once more and paint the kitchen. Groan! It's a big bloody room now, as well! (and I've still to finish the ceiling in our bedroom, blagh!!)
Though, the good news is, apparently (and I shall believe this when I see it...) the bulk of the work will be completed by this time next week...eek!! And then we'll have to start the massive 'dustathon'... the task of clearing the house of the huge abundance of filth, plaster, debris and general grottiness that has accumulated over every conceivable surface. I'm really looking forward to that bit...
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