(no subject)

[mysteriousaliways]

I was seriously pissed-off this afternoon.
School holiday time - our (tiny) house invaded by five girls aged 4 to 9 (my two and the three from next door). While I'm busy making lunch, they take over my bedroom and drape half my bellydance coin scarves over the curtain rails, even tho they've been told not to play in my bedroom with my stuff. And they'd left burning candles unattended in the living room, despite me agreeing to let them have the lit candles on the strict understanding that they kept an eye on them at all times.

Shooed them out so I could have my lunch in peace sitting on my bed. Got interrupted by my youngest coming thru to let me know that someone had thrown their juice on the mirror.

Left lunch to investigate and discovered that either my eldest or her friend (couldn't get out of them which one) had thrown her glass of Vimto over the other one, who just happened to be standing in front of the display unit.

A glass of not-very-diluted Vimto, very sticky, and containing blackcurrant juice,

Over the display unit, on which was standing some of my antiquarian books, including two nineteenth century cookbooks, a unique 8-volume leather-bound set of 'the Woman's Encyclopaedia' from 1912, a pair of household management books from the 1930s and a Catholic Encyclopaedia from the turn of the last century, I think. And a pile of my favourite photos. And my modern cookbooks. And loads of other bits and pieces.

Took me about 4 hours to clean off all the sticky goo; the wallpaper's permanently stained and the covers of the 1930s books damaged. The other books have stains on the edge of the pages but thankfully it didn't sink in too far. Some of the photos are going to end up being a bit blotchy tho. Also managed to spatter C's cream linen suit and some shirts of Alan's that were hanging on the back of the door waiting to be ironed as well as a load of clean washing and the paintwork of the door. The damn stuff got everywhere (except, strangely enough, on the carpet - or if it did I couldn't see it).

I suggested to the girls that it might be a good idea of they went outside to play as I was not overly pleased with them right at that moment. Grrrrrr ........

Thankfully I managed to get out of the house in the evening - bellydance class has finished for the term, but we've all agreed to get together every week in the village hall of this tiny hamlet in the middle of nowhere, so that we can just dance. Really good idea, as I'd miss it terribly otherwise. I drove cross-country to it, up and down the hills, along all the single-track winding roads, and although the weather was overcast and kind of grey, I still got such a feeling of being steeped in summer from all the countryside around me. Newly shorn sheep in the fields, little village pubs, the warm honey-coloured local stone of the older houses, a load of men and young boys in the field stacking up the bales of straw behind the baler. (Square bales too - haven't seen many of those since the big round balers came in - must be at least 30 years ago).

Taught Lorna and Lucy my African choreography - they seemed to pick it up pretty well, altho they had a little trouble with one or two of the moves. Hazel still seems to have retained what I showed her last time. They all seem to really like it, which was very flattering :D I think the fact that I love that track so much comes through. And we then just danced, which was great. It's lovely to have so much space (as opposed to my tiny kitchen, which is usually the only place I can dance at home) and to have some different music for a change. And then, after the cool-down, just general girly chat, which I'd miss if we weren't meeting up during the hols. Lucy has just had her colours 'done', and was telling us all about it, and showing her fabric swatches. I'm seriously considering getting mine done - it would make clothes buying so much easier when you know which colours suit you.

Then on the way home, the countryside looked so beautiful in the gathering grey dusk, as I was driving through it listening to the ROTK soundtrack - it brought me such serenity and calm. Possessions aren't important anyway. Not worth getting fraught over.

And then of course there was the email I got from the jaw-droppingly gorgeous drummer. With his mobile number and two kisses in it *looks smug*. Which was also rather cheering.

So the day ended better than it started.

Comments

[pippinmctaggart.livejournal.com]

I am SO sorry about the books and photos. Everything else somehow doesn't seem to matter as much, but old books and photos can be very dear.

And OMG do you have any idea how much this post made me long to travel to Scotland? Hills, single-track roads, sheep, summer, stone houses, pubs. ::pines omg::

One last thing. I have to tell you this joke, as told to me by my father. He says it's such a shame that so many farmers have moved to these big round bales (here too). Yes, they're more efficient, labour-saving, economical, et cetera et cetera. But how's a cow supposed to get a square meal?

ba-dump-ba-shh! :o)

[mysteriousaliwz.livejournal.com]

Thanks for the sympathy. It just seems so frustrating that a book can survuive unscathed from the 1880s, only to have sticky blackcurrant juice thrown over it! Well never mind, not too much damage done.

*g* I love living in the country. Where I grew up I had a view of the farm across the road from my bedroom window. When I started work I had to live a mile from the end of Heathrow Airport runway and it was awful. Northumberland is gorgeous tho, very like Scotland.

Square meal? *laughs and groans at the same time*

[owl-at-the-moon.livejournal.com]

This is why I never let mine take drinks upstairs unless it's water. Blackcurrant's just the worst thing ever to get out. Mine tend to spill milk, easier to get rid of when it comes to the stain but awful for the lingering smell no matter how much fabreze you spray over it.

Sometimes the sunshine just helps pick you up doesn't it? We're so lucky having easy access to the countryside. Glad your feeling better now. *loves*