Time with Loo is never dull, to say the least.
Last night, while scooping dog poo in the drizzly dark, under a pale light, she screamed. I mean, let one rip. One of the piles of Frank and Nova poo had jumped--she'd scooped a frog by mistake.
Last Friday, she bent over to pick something up and her back went out. She hobbled about, in great pain, while the rest of us laughed and took photos. Thankfully, she's great humoured, and sort of ended up posed for us. P.S. She recovered after 2 Valium and a glass of whin..wine.
On Tuesday last, we went to Bristol with Hols so she could interview for University. We kept drawing looks as the three of us walked along, and I suddenly realised she was quite posh in appearance, while I had on jeans, sensible shoes and my short hair. We looked like two lesbians taking their daughter to her interviews. The three of us started to laugh like mad, and then, Hols asked if she should call us both Mummy or should she call me Mom since I was American. Later in the week, we stopped off in a travel agency, to pick up a few brochures for Mills to use in her course work. The agent came over to help us, and when we asked for anything she had on Barcelona, her expression changed to one of "Dear me! How will I handle this?" On the way out, Loo had tears from laughter.. it seems Barcelona is the number one location for same sex marriages in Europe.
She has a ghost. There are candles in the sitting room, and we keep finding them lit, with no one having been in the room, no matches about... all quite spooky. Today, a cartridge suddenly rolled completely across the very level table. There is a non living animal that sometimes walks across the kitchen. All great fun. Not.
I needed my hair trimmed, and Loo said her hairdresser, Fiona, would come around and do it for around five pounds. What a deal!! She didn't mention that Fiona is from the Highlands, and you can't understand a thing she says. She chats away about haggis and horses and her kids as she clips and snips and we just go, "Ah huh." She's coming back on Sunday to do something. We aren't sure what we agreed to, it happened during one of the "Ah huh." moments. It should be interesting.
Yesterday, when opening the door to let the dogs out, she snapped her pinky nail below the nail line, causing a nice rip on the nail bed. Yes, I ewwwww'd too. She danced around, moaning and groaning, "It hurts! It hurts!" I know it hurts, I showed dismay, but, please, I'm trying to watch Homes Under the Hammer. The rest of the day, she went on about how her "....finger hurts, quite badly!" Suck it up, woman.
Underwear is a passion for our Loo. Everything she owns matches, and they have their own special drawers in her dresser. Sadly, she's invited me to be addicted, too. You fall into it, at first picking up a little set from ASDA, and next thing I know, I'm in Marks and Spencers, drooling over silk sets, caressing satin ones, discussing the varied shades of blue, trying to find the perfect one. I would hear, "QUINN!!! Come QUICKLY!!" and she'd have a set in deep mushroom silk; a set that meant I'd have to sell a kidney to buy. I think I'll be able to live without the kidney. Interspersed with the yells for me, were her comments about her nail. Again, please... I'm shopping for underwear here.
Her kitchen floor flooded before I arrived, and we've lived with the Big Loud Machine since then. It's to suck moisture out of the floorboards. I reckon if we kept it turned on all the time, it'd work. Obviously, we don't.
It's been a good time... we tag team iron, tidy, shop for underwear, go to Costco's, even if the experience was ruined by screaming children and no food examples.
It's my home away from home, here in the Village. Full of people I like and things I enjoy doing. Angie pops round for tea, people call all the time, teenagers lounging about, Hols wanting her tea, the dogs barking at nothing and everything and Cat irritated there's no cat flap between the kitchen and the room where his outdoor cat flap is located. It's never dull here.
And, it's got Loocy.
Our Neville Fact
Margaret wants to go see the new film about Queen Victoria, but, Neville refuses. It seems his great Grand-Aunt, Lady Flora Hastings, was the subject of the main part of the plot, a dear woman who was banished from Court for no reason than having a liver aliment that made her stomach swell. She was thought to be pregnant! Neville's family never forgot the slight, and had to put on a good show when Nev married Margaret as she descends from Queen Victoria's Stuart line. Neither side spoke to the other that day, and more than a few wine glasses were 'accidently' poured on the silk skirts of the women there.
Margaret went alone, while Neville saw 'Grand Torino'.