TAKING STOCK Part I

It’s been a sensationally tough week hereabouts and Bloggiana and I are all but ready to hang up our boots and say sod it.

First Rubirosa came with her terrible news that Trickyladdio her erstwhile feller is doing precisely that, remaining erstwhile.

Next we were all given a sleepless night when Bloggiana’s daughter Teener actually fainted on account of the smell emanating from Our Dog’s undercarriage, this meaning two things: first, we had to spend a long time sitting in Casualty while Teener’s head was examined, (revealing among other things an as yet unresolved issue with nits); and second, we were forced to take the scissors to Our Dog, a perfectly loathsome undertaking which involves gnashing teeth, smell, rotting wood and dags.

Next a teaspoon got caught in the kitchen grinder – the same grinder that has been working perfectly for eighteen years – and in spite of our best efforts, would not budge, this meaning two things: first, the grinder no longer works because second, the grinder is now so old, there is no one still alive who knows how to fix it.

And finally I, Piccalilli, got a parking ticket. And Lord knows there is nothing more guaranteed to put everyone hereabouts in a bad mood than the giving away of perfectly hard won cash to the state.

So last night Bloggiana and I found ourselves sitting by a sputtering fire with wine in our cups, cigarettes between our lips and an unvoiced pain in our wintry hearts. I mean dammit, dammit to hell, erupted Bloggiana at one point. And all I could do at that point was look up and nod my head in agreement.

In actual fact it has to be said that these taking stock moments in Our House are few and far between. Yes, Bloggiana has had a hell of a time getting rid of her outgoing spouse. Yes, we have no money and Our House is going to have to be sold. Yes, the dog stinks, the horses are more than we can afford, there’s dust everywhere and the mice keep stealing our crumpets. But for all of that, Bloggiana and I and Teener and our varying cast of friends remain robustly cheerful.

So it was not too long last night before the air began to lift. Bloggiana reminded me that Doris is coming to stay soon - Doris, our man in Istanbul, who taught Bloggiana how to go barking. Then I remembered that I still had a cheque in my wallet from the local council which represents an entirely unexpected £2.50 rate rebate. Then a co-equestrienne knocked on the door to tell us she had managed to capture a photograph of the white crow on her mobile – and we all know that a white crow indicates new beginnings. Then co-equestrienne went on to tell us she had also spotted one of Our Cats biffing a young fox on the nose and seeing him off. And if all that wasn’t thrilling enough, I opened our latest batch of chutney for a quick taster – and blow me down if it wasn’t absolutely yummy.

Fuck me, said Bloggiana, as a large spoonful of the brown stuff disappeared down her gullet, damned if I don’t think that isn’t one of your best, she went on.

So then we were obliged to open a new bottle of PG to celebrate. And suddenly everything did not seem too bad, after all.