Don't Come A Knocking ...

SD stopped in his track this morning.

'What's wrong with your face?' he asked.

I was affronted!

I'd dragged my sorry ass out of bed despite having spent most of the night coughing like a cat with a hairball stuck in it's throat just so I could make SD and Miss Mac a nourishing breakfast before they went off to work and college when obviously I would have preferred to have stayed in bed surrounded by crumpled tissues soaked in Olbas oil and now, when I was SMILING at him despite my pain, he asks me WHAT'S WRONG WITH MY FACE!!

'It's my WINSOME look' I told him indignantly - 'I am SMILING at you!!!'

'Winsome' he replied picking up his bag - 'I think you might have lost that one' and he paused clearly thinking about giving me a kiss but then just patted me on the head before walking out of the door.

All that when I was still smarting at the fact that I don't own a rat shovel!  I didn't even know it was a thing until Joe pointed it out on my last post and BP also wondered why I don't have one but now I feel cheated.  Why don't I have a rat shovel???

I've got a churn brush - I don't suppose everyone's got one of those but a churn brush is no good when you have a rat to dispose of is it?

SD has shovels - I KNOW SD has shovels because the other day when we were at the farm and David (the farmer) had been moving sheep some of them had wandered down the drive to the house and left lots of tiny sheep turds all over the path.  SD thought it would keep me amused for a while if I dealt with it and told me to get the short handled shovel by the coal bunker and flick the poo off the drive where it might be stepped on and then walked into the house and flick it into the hedge (kind of like lacrosse with sheep shit I imagine).  While I was busy flicking (and it was actually rather more fun than it sounds) SD passed by and asked me why I was using the really short handled shovel when he had clearly told me to use the short handled shovel!

I'll bet they have a rat shovel at the farm too - it stands to reason doesn't it?  I mean, if you have a special shovel for sheep shit OF COURSE you have a rat shovel too.  What I want to know is why don't I have one?

I may also require a frog shovel.  After the worm and the rat yesterday Squishy decided to bring in a frog!  They don't kill frogs, I don't think they taste very nice so she dumped this one in the middle of the kitchen and sat watching it.  The frog SCREAMED really loudly - have you ever heard a frog scream?  It's a pretty scary sound and then fortunately it just hopped back out the door so although I didn't really need a frog shovel this time NEXT time I might!

Anyway, last night I was having a bit of a brighter spell so SD decided to take me out to Asda (the old romantic) to do a bit of shopping.

While we were there I saw they had Pernod on special offer.

'Ugg, I HATE Pernod' I told him - 'I drank a load of Pernod and black once and it made me SO sick - I thought I was throwing up BLOOD'.

'I'm not a fan either' said SD.  We got drunk on it at James' house once.  His parents were away for the night and they had a pool so we grabbed a couple of girls and had a party.

James was SD's partner in crime for many years when they were young - it was he who was with him when they inadvertently ended up at a young farmers party in a marquee in the middle of a field in their punk days and were surrounded by a load of angry, burly, tweed jacket (with elbow patches) wearing young men who thought they were after their women (quite right - they WERE) as they danced along to Soft Cell's Tainted Love, hands clasped together, chains hanging from their torn jeans and Mohawks quivering as they warbled 'I'm sorry I don't praaaay that way'.

'I ended up throwing up all over the girl who was asleep beside me'.

'What did you do then' I asked in horror.

'Not sure' he said, the next thing I knew I woke up naked in the bathroom with Henry licking my feet'.

'Jesus SD, WHO was HENRY and why was he licking your FEET?'

Turns out that Henry was James' parents Irish Wolf Hound and SD thought he might have been concerned the he was dead.

Bless him, I LOVE Irish Wolf Hounds, (after Gus of course) they are my very favourite dogs and I love to have one (or two) I would call them Rufus and Seamus.

'So, what did you do' then I asked - 'Well' he said, 'I did think about getting back into bed but to be honest she didn't look quite so appealing covered in purple sick so Henry and I curled up on the couch together'.

We then talked a little about James.  James went on to married a hairdresser.

'I've never really been interested in hairdressers' said SD.  I remember clubbing with James, his (now wife), her sister and a friend.  They were all wearing these really long skirts in a kind of stretchy material that went down to their ankles and they all went to the loo together.  Bloody skirts were so restricting that they could only take tiny steps which is great if you don't want them to get away but a real pain when it each loo trip takes at least half an hour!

'And they giggled a lot' he added as an aside.

I was always more interested in Art students - SO much better dressed!

'So you've never dated a hairdresser then' I enquired.

'No' he said - 'Well ... there was this ONE time I dated one from Weston for a while - I think I was bored of the Taunton nightlife and fancied a change'.

'I remember now' he went on - 'she shared a flat and they had bunk beds!!!'

'SD - you DIDN'T!!!'

He looked sheepish ...

'YOU DIDN'T BONK IN A BUNK???'.

'You know what they say he said ...' (may I now refer you back to the title of this post ...).