Anyway, enough of my eternal waffle. Let's find out what when on chez-Oxford, last week.
Tuesday 28th. The kid got spoilt
Even though her birthday party was held on the preceding Sunday, Izzy's actual birthday was on Tuesday. Yep, Izzy is to birthday's, what Imelda Marcos is to shoes.
I suggested to Steve that we tell Izzy that her birthday was actually on Sunday, to consolidate operations, but Steve said that I was tight to even think about it. So the celebrations continued .......
Pic.No.1 Firstly there was the opening of all the lovely cards and presents, and it wasn't long before Izzy was peppered with 'I am 6' badges. She looked like she had been paint-balled
Pic.No.2 Izzy poses with rather a large birthday card, a lolly, and uneven socks (which is a characteristic of all children for some reason)
Pic.No.3 The haul. "Bloody hell, Iz," I said to her, "It looks like you have done a heist at Toys R Us." And then I thought about where I was going to put it all, and it made me gulp
Pic.No.5 After the opening of the presents, we had told Izzy that she could take one friend out for a meal at 'Frankie and Bennys'. She chose one of her best friends, May. When those two are together, they could quite easily decimate a medium sized, two-storey building. I nickname them Ronnie and Reggie
Pic.No.6 The celebrations continued in an 'enthusiastic' manner, and I joined in with the spirit of things (crikey, all I need is a broomstick and pointy hat)
Pic.No.7 Because Izzy is my daughter, there was obviously no expense spared, and I ordered her an ice-cream with a candle in it to celebrate. Everyone in Frankie and Benny's sang happy birthday, and Izzy was at first a bit unsure whether it was for her or not (probably overwhelmed by the extravagance)
Pic.No.7 But she soon got into the swing of things and they both scoffed their ice-creams post-haste. It was rather a lovely evening out all in all, despite the air of general exuberance
Wednesday 29th and Thursday 30th June. I worked like a railroad navvy
The day after Izzy's birthday, I had agreed to drive the two hours down to Somerset to help my chum, Andy 'Poops' Cooper renovate his house again. Talk about self-flagellation. But I felt sorry for him, because he was due to move in within 3 weeks and, without disheartening him too much, it still resembled the aftermath of an earthquake.
When I arrived, he led me to a room, "can you decorate that?" he asked.
"Yep," I said, "what do you want me to do with it?"
"Paint the walls yellow, and the woodwork white," he said.
"Won't it be like being inside a large fried egg?" I pointed out.
"I've been told that it will look good with furniture in it," he replied, but didn't look so sure.
And so I commenced my task, and it took 2 days of frenzied brush-wielding to do this ........
Pic.No.8 This is the room BEFORE I started my handiwork
Pic.No.9 This is the room AFTER I had painted it yellow (I put 'after' in capitals just to make sure you knew that it looked better once I had finished)
Pic.No.10 This is another view of the room prior to me commencing work
Pic.No.11 And finally, the last shot of my finished room (well finished apart from the carpet being fitted). I am like bloody Picasso, I am
Pic.No.12 Luckily, on the Wednesday night whilst I was in Somerset, Poops decided to reward my efforts with a meal out in a pub. This is a field that we passed as we walked to The Halfway House
Pic.No.13 This is a church that we passed on the way. There were quite a few churches in the village, it was like something out of the 'Wicker Man', except that we didn't get burnt to death whilst some bloke played the penny whistle
Pic.No.14 Huzzar! We made it to the pub. Suddenly all the hard work didn't seem so bad
I worked so hard during the two days that I was there, that I got a blister on my palm, and my arms were covered in paint splashes. By the time I drove home on Thursday night, I was aching all over. I am Lady M, for heaven's sake, I am cut out to be a lady of leisure, not a manual labourer. I nearly perished from the shock of the blister.
Friday 31st June. My dog was a git
I awoke on Friday morning, still aching from the decorating. After going downstairs to make a cup of tea, I noticed that the fridge was stuffed with the remains of Izzy's party food. I debated whether or not it was safe to eat, what with it being six days old and all, but the blue fuzz on some of it helped me make up my mind.
I shovelled it all into the compost bin, only to be greeted with this sight an hour later ..........
Pic.No.15 My bloody dog had jumped into the compost bin and scoffed all the mouldy food. If you look closely at the picture, he even had the audacity to lick his lips for the picture
"Get out you filthy wombat!" I shouted at him.
Naughty George jumped out of the compost bin and slunk into the kitchen, where he promptly vomited three huge piles of spew (yep in the kitchen, not outside).
That mutt has got a lot to answer for.
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