We have a garage. It is full of crap, not to put too fine a point on it.
No car, just boxes of damp things, rusty old this that and the next thing and burst chairs, spare parts, tools, old pictures, fishing stuff, bikes, etc.
It was getting to the stage where we couldn’t even fit another nodule of rubbish in there so we took the plunge and put aside four hours on Sunday morning to dig through the mountain of debris.
After a good hour and a half we were getting increasingly grumpy when I plucked a book entitled Declutter Your Life from a pile of tat which I bought about eight years ago.
The irony was not lost on us as we hauled another black bag of rubbish out onto the street.
Of course, we fell out. You do in these situations.
I bin something, he pipes up, “Well I want to keep that?” “What? A rusty pair of garden shears and we haven’t got a garden?” I snap back, my hands clenching as the shears are stacked on top of the pile of thing he refuses to let go – and then I find Life Laundry – a place for everything and everything in its place. Another book I bought about three years ago.
We stop, have a coffee and agree to dump the lot and go for a pub lunch. Life is too short.
Looking forward to vote being done and dusted
Debates done. The second one started well, and yet again Darling and Salmond ended up standing there just like a pair of kids, bellowing over one another, each waiting for the other to capitulate and shut up.
It was hard to watch without blood pressure rising. If my kids behaved like that in the back of the car I would pull the car over and make them walk home.
As the Referendum date gets ever closer my postal vote is done and dusted as the cacophony of voices gets louder and louder Yes, No, Yes, No, Yes, No.
I confess I am looking forward to the 19th September so whatever the result we can get on with our lives – oh and it’s my birthday too so either way I will be having a sherry and celebrating.
Christmas on the menu already
This week has been spent sorting our Christmas menus at Howies. Phew!
It is of course a venison frenzy so we have made sure to secure all our suppliers and all our delicious Scottish festive fare so with a sigh of relief at last our head chef Colin has them all done and dusted.
This year we are even opening on Christmas Day at Waterloo Place and although it is bad to even whisper the word “Christmas” in September – wherever you are planning to have your festive fun, people are getting organised already – so get crackering!
Scots sitting on a truffle mine
WAS at the Stockbridge market on Sunday and met a lovely Italian guy who was selling truffles from Italy. My snout honed in on them fast. Wow they were fabulous.
His family have been truffle farmers in Italy for generations and he is now living in Scotland and has set up a business with a local guy. The idea that our damp dark undergrowth might just offer up the perfect breeding ground for truffles is very exciting.
Both from the culinary taste sensation side of things and the prices these things fetch! . At £1000 - £3000 a kilo. Never mind a gold rush, surely the reality of truffle millionaires are just around the corner.
No doubt departing son will do as we always did
The empty nest is nigh. The day the Teenwolf leaves the house and heads off into the big wide world on his own. Gulp. Much as I bump my gums about the noise, mess, room, clothes everywhere, selective deafness I am facing the big day with trepidation. David and I have not been together in a house alone for 18 years.
Yes we have had a couple of weeks there, a couple of weeks here and the odd overnight, day etc, but as an ongoing long-term just him and I what on earth is it going to be like?
The last time we were alone we behaved appallingly up all night, carousing, drinking, dancing, speaking nonsense, filling the house with friends, making new friends and filling the house with them too, all the time drinking, carousing, dancing, laughing. But things have moved on. Or have they been on hold?
We have a list of things we will be telling our son not to do when he leaves and it will include ‘don’t stay up all night carousing, dancing, drinking, filling your halls with pals’, but even as I write it we know he is a product of his parents – we have not bred an accountant and it serves us right. He is now living the life we did, the life we loved and now the life we have to pretend, at a distance, to disapprove of, at least a little. Actually on reflection it’s not disapproval – its jealousy.