Cat Wars

The ginger gentleman is hovering around the street, but either Oscar or Roxy seem to be on guard all the time. Nice Mr Next Door was picking ginger fur out of Oscar's claws this morning. I think that this is one of the blessings of double glazing - it has filtered out a lot of sound.

Darling father came in with a sore mouth - he had had five teeth out and was full of cotton wool. However he was not too full to point out the massive bulk of Oscar, curled up on a garden chair. When I went out to throw stuff in the bin, Oscar had moved over with the travelling sunshine and was occupying a very large patch of earth. He really is enormous.

The youngest cat from next door, Alfie, doesn't really bother about coming out of the house, but I am sure he will be roaming about soon. Then the ginger gentleman will really face opposition in numbers. He is not yet a year old, though, so a little young for pitched battles.

Darling father and little bear are both doing pretty well. Darling father was feeling a bit low, and little bear is too tired to do anything (while denying completely that he is tired), but nothing that can't be expected. I expect I will be dealing with a lot of faddy food requests over the next few days (little bear) and special diet requests (darling father). It could be worse. Little bear has just insisted on having crisps. I was bad enough to let him try them - he has chicken pox all around the inside of his lips and he didn't like it. Actually, he didn't like it after a sterling effort that demolished half the bag, so I am not worrying too much.

OH is a hero

OH is an absolute hero - he let me sleep for four hours this afternoon and fielded a very spotty little bear.

I have just scratched a delivery together for first thing tomorrow, it is quite random. Kitten food, soup for darling father who is having five teeth out tomorrow and I can't go with him! I wish he would change the date. And also all sorts of nibbles that might tempt a very spotty little bear. It rambles between rice pudding and jelly via cucumber sticks and smoothies. At the moment he isn't even keen on chocolate.

We didn't go to a doctor in the end, as his eyes are now fine, which I am very relieved about. In fact he is seeming a lot better now, although poorly and itchy. As he is refusing all mention of calamine and bicarb baths, I am a bit stuck on the itch front. I will work on it some more tomorrow.

Darling father is also looking much better. I think I shall do all I can to get him to rest this week. Then he will be out in the garden, battling with cats, being in the sun and generally enjoying himself.

The car is now looking more expensive. The change of fuel filter didn't help, the petrol tank is quiet clear and so it therefore looks like an injection pump is blocked/broken.

I am trying not to look at the Approved Food's website. I am sure I would want to buy, especially chocolate, and I don't think that would help.

Poor darling father

Darling father was distracted by the ginger gentleman and Oscar squaring up to each other and fell. He is shaken, but not hurt. He is probably in a better state than I would be. He has missed his snooker afternoon, but I am sure he will be as right as rain soon.

Ever feel like worrying? I was looking at part time work possibilities yesterday. I just hope it could perhaps maybe work, just a bit of part time work. I don't know if I am even employable after all these years. And I can have a wonderful time worrying about darling father. Sigh. He was climbing a ladder painting tall doors yesterday. I am sure I am worrying over nothing.

Darling uncle is poorly

I wish I knew what to do for the best.

Darling uncle has had a change of tablets. He started them on Thursday. He was fine on Thursday. Friday he was a bit stiff. Saturday he was aching. Today he can't get out of his chair - literally.

So, although he is fine in himself, and although he is not in any way confused or befuddled, he is waiting for an ambulance to take him in, as he can't move. Hopefully it will be an overnight stay, or at most two nights, as they sort out his tablets. I can't get there today, and he has forbidden it as the weather is worrying him. In fact I don't think anyone can get there easily. So I shall sit here and worry.

I am sure it will be okay.

Darling Father

I don't need to make things up.

Darling father bought tickets for us all to go to a brass band concert at the Methodists and then told us. It's not the first time he has done this sort of thing, and I wish he wouldn't. Regardless, little bear and I accompanied darling father, but OH had bravely taken little bear to the birthday party earlier by himself, as I had had a bad night, and then had not grumped at me for getting them there an hour early. However he needed some time to himself.

I honestly am not making this up. Darling father wore a false moustache to the concert. I hadn't seen him in it before, and I didn't know what to say. It is grey and comparatively realistic, but it is a false moustache. It made him look a bit like a greying Captain Mainwaring, or a grey Poirot - distinguished but odd! When we got to the Methodist Chapel you could barely move for dropped jaws. I don't think darling father is going senile, but he is having a very strenuous attack on eccentric. Even the Minister was a bit stuck for words.

The concert was quite good. Some of it was excellent, like the Vivaldi. Some of it was not so good, but as I had an overall good time I am not going to use any of the quite witty but also quite cruel quips that I thought of during the performance. The conductor was also pushing heavily on eccentric. He actually put a scarf and gloves ON when they played 'The Stripper' and waggled the gloves and ends of the scarf. His hat during the second half was a chimney with Santa Claus legs sticking out. And he came in as Britannia at the first part of the second half - he bowed to little bear who bowed back. He did look seriously eccentric in a blond wig, Roman Helment, bedsheets and Union Jack robe and a shield with fairy lights on the outside. I think little bear thought this normal for a brass band concert.

Little bear had not been exposed to much brass band music, and was a little wary. He also was tired (I think, given how much he is eating and how much he seems to be growing, that he is having a growth spurt), and he nearly fell asleep on me during an early rousing rendition of Hark the Herald Angels.

He perked up with the prizes. The conductor gave out tiny bags of Haribo sweets to the audience for rewards for eg right answers. Little bear got his first bag when a neighbouring gentleman donated his prize for knowing the year the Salvation Army was founded to him. He got his second bag when I correctly named the ruler of England at the year of Vivaldi's death (fluke - the date was 1741, so George II). Little bear then got his third bag as there were less than half a dozen children in the audience and they all got a bag for sitting nicely. Then he got his fourth and final bag for shaking a tambourine during Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer.

And little bear and darling father worked the room in the interval. Darling father is already on 'cheeky chappie' terms with most of the ladies, and snooker/golf playing terms with the men. When you add in the shock effect of a fake moustache and the gorgeous and apparently irresistible smile of little bear, they had a wonderful time. I just sat and ate my mince pie. Lots of people complimented me on how well little bear behaved, but I was reserving judgement slightly as I think he was too tired to get up to a lot, and besides he was practicing his charm and angling for sweeties.

I can't wait for the rest of the week.

Little bear and little girls

A few days ago we were on our way to nursery when little bear was over taken by a little girl on a scooter. Little bear put on foot on a raised kerb, his hands on his hips and posed.

Today he went to a party. He played lots and lots of games with his male friends, racing round and chasing monsters. However when it came to sitting nicely for the food, little bear sat between two young girls and charmed them.

This may or may not be something he has got from darling father who has had a troop of ladies calling after him, bringing him flowers, cards, gift vouchers etc.

I only blog what actually happens. I do not make anything up and normally tone things down. I just have a lot going on.

Darling father

Darling father got up late, stayed up long enough to watch the first half of the Barca - Real Madrid game we had recorded for him and then has been in bed dozing ever since.

I think there has been a shock to the system. Also I don't think he got enough to eat in the hospital. I spoke up stridently when he was being admitted and he got a sandwich, and he got the evening meal which was an extremely small and not particularly appetising portion. I suggested to darling father at the time I could get something, but I don't think he could be bothered with anything then.

So today, at his request, he had a burger with onions for breakfast, a fish and a scallop for lunch and mushroom soup with toast for dinner. If that was me it would be raving indigestion for supper, but he just seems tired. I shall see what I can coax into him tomorrow.

I am a little worried, but I am sure he will be feeling better soon.

Darling Father is Home

Darling father came home from hospital - by himself, on the bus. It is exactly how I would behave, so I am not surprised. He is looking tired but not poorly.

I shall, of course, be keeping an eye on him, and it is such a relief that he is now here and not one hundred miles away. I would have had to do much more than thrust little bear at my neighbour and hare off down the road.

So, all in all, a loooong weekend. I shall try and have a quiet week!

Thank you for all your good wishes. They have really helped. I don't want to be a 'someone else has had to go to hospital so I am suffering' drama queen, but I am feeling a bit flattened. Also I started knitting a cardigan.

Darling father is now upstairs with a sandwich, a cup of tea, and plans to watch the football this evening. It is good to have him home.

Harder day

This is the serious post. I will write it as it comes out, I am a bit shaky.

I was tolerating little bear and his Dr Who card collection and OH had taken evil cat to see the vet when there was a knock at the door. Darling father had collapsed in church and an ambulance had been called. I grabbed a bag, put some shoes on my feet and almost threw little bear at the next door neighbour.

Darling father had been out for fifteen to twenty minutes by the time he came round to recognising me. He was woozy and disorientated and quite pale. He was put in an ambulance and I went with him.

By the time he got to the hospital he was much better. He had a lot of colour back, and he was making sensible conversation. So we got put in a bay in A&E and waited. And waited. Apparently Sunday is a busy day and there are a lot of people who collapse in church. And eventually we got seen. It was becoming obvious that darling father was not in immediate danger.

It seems that darling father has a very low heart rate. I don't understand exactly what was going on, but he was being monitored and his heart rate, his blood pressure and his pulse were all very low. At the church they had not been able to find a pulse, which had been frightening, but it had been just too low to pick up.

So from the ambulance taking him in 'to be safe', to 'just checking with a doctor' we then progressed to 'move to another hospital and keep overnight'. I did a lot of the check in, and felt very frustrated. Darling father may be eighty but he runs rings around me, so I was stressing that yes, he lives with us, but he is not an invalid and moved here for company - 'social reasons, not medical' is the way I phrased it.

From the way that the admitting nurse in the second hospital carefully and firmly wrote down visiting times, I get two things. The first thing is that he is not seriously ill, or they would let me see him whenever. The second is that the normal feeling is that he will be in for a few days.

When I left him he was looking (after a day of enforced rest!) nearer sixty than eighty, and ready to settle down for the night.

Little bear was at OH's sister's house for most of the afternoon. He was well behaved and polite and came home bearing goodies. He is tired, but fingers crossed he will have a good night.

Clothes

A clothing catalogue came today. I practically never buy clothes, and when I do I usually go for durability. However this catalogue is for clothes for the larger lady, the fuller figure etc and it is the only place to get the bras I like. I reluctantly got the catalogue to have access to the underwear.

I started leafing through it casually, noting that this looks nice, that's a nice colour, that's HOW MUCH! etc when darling father started looking over my shoulder and making suggestions.

I have a problematic figure. First of all I am grossly over weight, so I am not going to look like Kate Moss no matter what I wear. Then there is the problem of my bust. It is large, full and embarrassing. Other ladies with different temperaments could well enjoy it. I don't, and go for high necked outfits for a reason. So with a low and hefty bust and a high waist, it is separates only for me.

Then I have quite well defined tastes. I like plain and not patterned, long smooth lines (hides a multitude of sins) and despite my age I am keen on the slightly punk side of fashion. I don't wear punk or goth, obviously, I would look ridiculous. But I don't do pink.

Darling father has views as well. Nice, brightly patterned dresses with lots of flounces and low necks. Lots of frills. Lots and lots of patterns, and wide skirts, with bright and contrasting patterns. With extra frills. Basically, darling father's fashion sense has stuck in 1950. He wasn't that old then, but that is where it is stuck. He thinks that tartan is cutting edge. He pointed out some 'nice' clothes. They are actually nice, just something I have never, ever worn. He has known me for over forty years, he saw me in New Romantic get ups and some seriously extreme make up. I do not do flouncy skirts with big pink flowers.

He meant well. And he won't really grumble (at least to me) when I stick to the 'basic black, no frills, smooth lined trouser suit' type stuff.

One thing that worried me slightly. He said that the local ladies all wore long dresses. The local ladies at the Methodist Church whose average age is double mine wear long dresses. My contemporaries wear leggings, crop tops and quite often pyjamas to the shops. Please let darling father not see anything on sale that he thinks I would like, please!

Normal times

Darling father has been out on a date. As he has been flirting with a lady of a similar age, I am not very worried about an outraged father on my doorstep with a shotgun, but I am keeping an open mind.

Little bear is poorly - his tummy hurts, his legs hurts, he is cold... Meanwhile he seems v warm to me and has been almost asleep all day while watching Primeval.

Meanwhile apart from internet shopping I have not managed to get anything done. I have been sitting here, almost frozen, trying to keep as still as possible to let little bear sleep, which he has nearly done all day.

Darling father is out tomorrow, and little bear has been dosed up with baby nurofen and kaolin, and is probably more of the same. I shall be doing duty as a cushion and cuddle pillow. To be honest, there are worse things.

Father's Day

Father's Day is looming. Being me, if it isn't delivered we don't get it so I need to plan in advance.

Darling father is easy enough. He is having a joint teasmaid from all his children which he has had early and loves. It is really helping him be comfortable. A small miniature and glass from little bear will be great.

But what to get OH from little bear? I am absolutely stumped. He rarely drinks from a mug, and he has 'Dad' mugs. He has a 'Dad' glass, which he regularly uses. I don't want to get him clothing, as I believe it is OH's job to choose his own clothes and I refuse to get him socks.

He hasn't got any outstanding books he wants, he doesn't drink much and when he does it is darling father's whiskey. None of his hobbies actually require anything buying for him. There are only so many ornaments you can give a man.

Darn and Poot!

Happy Day!

Darling father is now here for good. I am so happy, we all are. We are currently stepping over bags and boxes everywhere we move, but we are happy.

This morning he went to the Spring Fair at the Methodist Church - and spent several hours washing up! He is very settled there, and all the ladies are charming to him. I've just said that he has a curfew on a school night.

I might add that poor darling father is exhausted and tired, but I know he wouldn't be able to resist helping out or being the life and soul of the kitchen.

I am sure that life will speed up now.

Take cover!

Darling father arrived today, and then taught little bear to flick elastic bands.

Evil cat is looking very cautious

Mega anti clutterbust

Today we visited darling father and brought back some things.

It must be really hard for him, getting rid of so much stuff. Things that he has valued and wanted enough to keep are going to be left behind. Also I think he wants to have some value coming here - and he would be having anyway. This last week with no darling father meant no one to watch poorly little bear when I went out for medicine etc.

I have said a blanket 'yes' to cutlery, plates, cups etc. We have a just turned four year old, I am confident that we will find lots of uses for plates, if only just to hold paint. I have said a blanket 'yes' to all bedding - we can see how we use stuff here and sort as we go. Also cushions, pillows, cloths etc. Most of it, obviously, will come on the final move.

We brought back today some clothes, some bedding, some towels and the most amazing pictures. One is a really nice landscape, which I love. The other is an extremely large and vividly red framed picture displaying Liverpool FC's triumph in 2005 in Istanbul. Guess which one is likely to end up over the mantel piece?

There is not much furniture coming back. There is a chest of drawers to replace a very iffy one in darling father's room. There is a tumble dryer, which has to be useful, as it doesn't need plumbing in. And there is bed.

Little bear thinks this bed is wonderful. It is an electric bed where the head and foot move up and down. I think that little bear is assuming that this is going to be his favourite toy. I shall need to buy darling father a padlock for his door. If you could have seen the look of wonder and excitement as the pillows started slowly moving, it was like a slow realisation of great fun and games. Little bear said that the bed was a 'super cracking bed'.

I need to really push now to get things sorted, as little bear's exclamation of, 'we're going to move all this into our house!?' put a lot into perspective. We have no room before this stuff comes, and some of it is lovely and a lot of it is important to darling father. He is not being shut into a room, the whole house is his home, just the same as it is for everyone else. It may need some thought and planning, but it is definitely worth it.

Memo to self - research local people who can mend these dratted beds.

Clutterbust fail

Darling father has helped sort out the stalls for the Methodist fair tomorrow.

He came back with six large whisky glasses, an electronic human weighing scale and a huge electronic helicopter for little bear.

Darn.

On the same day as darling uncle decided he would buy a shedload of comics for little bear - all with 'goodies' (aka plastic tat) on the front.

Poot.

Never mind, upward and onward. I think charting what is coming in and what is going out is a good thing. At least it is a help to focus.

Operation Clutterbust 2

Pre-sorted but now out of the house...

Four swing bin liners full of toys, four carrier bags of books.

Darling father is helping with the Methodist sale tomorrow on the bookstore, and he is now helping set up. I have left them to it, I am not getting entangled as I don't have the energy to help my own house let along anyone else's at the moment.

So, off to do ironing. I will feel a lot better if I can get that lot sorted.

(I have a 25% off voucher for the Works. Dare I use it?)

Darling Father is a clutterbuster

He has scraped the surface dirt from large parts of the living room. I am not counting the bin bag full of rubbish that he dug out in the total, but I am counting the extra bin bag when I joined in and sorted through a load of little bear's ex comics, ex sticker books (the cheapie ones, not the good ones and not the ones with stickers still intact) and tat. I suspect there are many more bin bags where that came from.

So, I am thinking about clutterbusting (I am good at the thinking part). I think what I need is a place for everything, which isn't the case and hasn't been for several years, the house got turned upside down when we had double glazing when I was seven months pregnant and I never really managed to catch up.

And things where I can't find a home for have to go out, and if I can't bear to part with them then I have to rearrange things so I have a home for them but something else goes out.

Gardening

Fingers crossed for okay weather. Darling Father has taken charge of the garden, and it looks fantastic. However he ordered a quantity of bedding plants from the local florist at the end of the street (lovely people who enjoy a good natter).

So there are now over 100 bedding plants that need to be found homes - wallflowers, carnations, pansies and cyclamen.

I'm leaving him to it, but I hope he doesn't get too worn down. He needs the outlet for his energy, but I worry.

A while ago some washing got caught in the rain and ended up left out for three days. Darling father's shirts still vibrate with the smell of his aftershave.

I have lurgy, again, but little bear who has been much better appears to be sickening for something new.