silences

Granny shouldn't be sitting here. She should be at her Spanish class. Unfortunately, on her way there this morning, the sun came out as she was driving up a narrow rural road blinding her totally; despite creeping along she collided with a wall - much like the one behind the manger a post or two back. She was fine, one wheel wasn't and the passenger door isn't feeling itself: in fact it's missing large bits of itself. Granny could do with missing the odd shaken up bit of herself too; but no such luck. Beloved and Mr Handsome are now sorting it out and she is calming her nerves with strong coffee. No class today.

She is however, exhausted. Guests arrive Thursday and meantime it's like moving house. She and Beloved migrate to the office, leaving their bedroom and Beloved's workroom clear. In theory. Granny puts all her clothes in suitcases etc and lugs them downstairs; Beloved is less willing.

"Have you cleared your drawers for the guests?"

"I've done two drawers. Surely that's enough. Noone needs more than two drawers.'

'Beloved, those are small drawers. And there are two people.'

'I'll do four drawers then.'

'Beloved, people are paying good money to learn about natural history; this does not mean intimate knowledge of your underwear. You've got to clear the lot.'

'I've got nowhere else to put them. Do you want me to wear dirty clothes for a week?'

Etc. Granny sighs. She'll have to do what she did last time, namely clear the drawers when he's out and put his suitcase alongside hers in the office. She will also ensure that he does change his underpants daily, despite the threat. Men! Or at least this man...maybe not quite the same thing..

Anyway; what with one thing and another it's all too much - too much cooking, too much washing, too much cleaning. Too much Spanish. Till the guests have gone on Thursday week she'd going to have to take a blog break.

But not without acknowledging with much sadness the death of dear friend Bob's wife. (Four kids mom'n dad on blog roll. Sorry she hasn't time to put in the link.) Life's a bugger. She weeps with and for him. He's a lovely man, it's a lovely family and they don't deserve it.

On the other hand; over at dear friend Ovagirl, the long hoped-for baby has started to move. (Legs up and laughing. Ditto.) Life goes on, in its cruel but extraordinary way. Here it's blowing a gale of sorrow and joy both. Granny, crying and rejoicing simultaneously, is as tired of the sound of wind as she is of domestic chores and hopes it will stop soon. Very soon.

Love to you all meantime. See you the weekend after next.