I've started painting the shed and Himself has put a couple of shelves up...decided painting is pretty arduous when it's two brush strokes and a quick rest...three brush strokes and then it's a sit down for a bit...at this rate it'll take me a month to finish it!
Didn't need to use a primer anyway...two coats cover the hardboard perfectly without a streaky bit in sight.
And the swallows are back...swooping overhead and diving in and out of the barn, they don't believe in having a rest after their long journey but get straight to building new nests and repairing the old ones. One of my cats...the big fat one...was sitting on the windowsill outside the sitting room making vague and inept efforts to catch a swallow in his paw...they made fun of him...screaming and swooping just out of his reach until he grew tired of a game he wasn't going to win and slunk away in a sulk.
I like cats sitting on windowsills whether inside or out...they look sort of homely and comforting...but I can't be doing with cats who clean their paws by pulling at their claws...it sets my teeth on edge and when mine do it, I poke them and tell them to stop this instant.
Himself had to buy a new kettle today...the old one decided it was tired of life and gave up and died quietly...after first blowing its fuse and the trip in the fusebox...that fusebox isn't nice. It's right over the front door and requires a step ladder to reach it and I've hung a curtain in front to sort of disguise it, so the biggest spiders crouch in there ready to leap on the meter reader man and gnaw his fingers.
Electricians are downright scary the way they blithely poke screwdrivers into small holes and leave lengths of lethal looking wire exposed...whenever Himself has to change a fuse I'm hovering about and warning him to be careful and does he know what he's doing and trying frantically to remember what to do in cases of electric shock...all I can recall is something about wooden brooms and rubber boots.
We always had a kettle on the range...makes perfect sense when you think...but Himself would fill it full and then go outside. The water began to boil and would spit over the top of the lid 'cos he'd filled it too full, so I'd have to pull it to one side when I was in the middle of something I thought important. Then he'd do the same when he was indoors in the evening and be totally oblivious to the racket it made...
I think I stuffed that kettle into the apple tree for a bird to use as a nesting site. But that was ages ago and no bird has yet shown the slightest interest...
We once met a couple who had one of those old fashioned, but now back in fashion, enamel coffee pots...it sat on the corner of their range and sort of stewed the coffee until it was much like a dirty coloured sludge...I doubt they emptied it...just added another couple of spoonfuls of ground coffee each morning and topped it up with a dash of water...I did have a small cupful once and it gave me violent indigestion...after that I'd ask for tea please...
Ireland will be closed tomorrow so don't bother coming to visit...everything simply shuts on Good Friday...there are Masses practically all day in the bigger churches...the 'pubs are shut, the ironmongers keep their doors locked and bolted and Holy Hour...between 3 and 4pm, is as quiet as quiet can be...Saturday everything is back to normal and then on Easter Day there are egg hunts and small people being sick and as high as kites from too much sugar and restaurants serve New Zealand lamb roast dinners and the priests spend their afternoon gleefully counting out the money from the morning Mass while popping chocolates into their mouths and family graves are graced with fresh flowers and it usually pours with a relentless steady rain and turns bitterly cold.
Himself and I once managed to have a weekend off at Eastertime...it was planned like a military operation for weeks beforehand...people coming in to look after our people and the children and instructions pinned up everywhere and dire threats issued about unlimited television time and giving Tracy orange squash...we went to Yorkshire, high on the fells and it snowed. It snowed the following day and the day after and the farmer had to pull our car out onto the road with his tractor and I was frozen to the bones and wanted to be anywhere but there.
We arrived back to find over the course of the three days the carers had managed to get through six bottles of orange squash...Tracy was climbing the walls...the baby was placed right in front of the television and the fire was out and the house was positively frosty with cold...they said they couldn't find any more coal, Trevor was practically wetting himself telling me he'd said where the coal bunker was and they'd not taken any notice and they didn't know how to adjust the central heating dial and Geoffrey said he did...which he did...but they wouldn't let him touch it...
Stony faced I told them they could leave now and thank you soo much...
It was quite a while before we risked going away again...and when we did, we took everyone with us. Much easier.