Age of Frenzy

So it's decided, we're moving my mum to her old person's bungalow on Monday 12 May, which gives us a whole two weeks to get organised - yippee! In having to meet this deadline we need to return from babysitting grandsons in London the previous Thursday. This has caused our daughter much chagrin as she is supposed to be working on Friday and the nanny is on holiday (which is why we are up there in the first place).

All this has caused me to reflect on the pressures of the seventh decade.

When you are a child you have no-one expecting you to accept responsibility for them, indeed you are the one demanding care and attention. When you grow up and have children you suddenly have responsibility for them thrust upon you and, as a result, think this must be the most demanding period of your life. Not so! When your children grow up and have children, particularly in this era when both parents feel the need to work and socialise, you suddenly find you have a responsibility to help your children with their family workload. This is fine but, as in our case, you also have your parents reaching an age when they are expecting you to look after them as their mental and physical faculties fail.

So, at a time when you might have thought you could switch off and put your feet up, your time and energies are in demand from both sides of the generational chasm! of course, we wouldn't have it any other way, indeed we would probably complain that we were being ignored if such expectations were not raised. Ironic though isn't it?

Lunacy at the Council

My mum, who is 82 years old, has just been told by the local council that, after waiting for a year, she has been given an old folks bungalow. She is thrilled as it means she can move much nearer my brother and me. However, when the housing manager was asked about timeframes she suggested that my mum should move from her old house to her new one within 2 weeks. This is after living in her current house for nearly 50 years, so just a little bit of clearing out and packing to do! Also, removals to be organised, utilities to be informed, carpets to be fitted, curtains to be made etc. etc........

Dont'cha just love local authorities? Negotiations will continue.......

Construction News

This has been a hard weekend! Unaccustomed as I am to hard physical work, and given my 60 years, lugging timber up to the top of the garden then constructing the chicken run has left me feeling as though I've been in a train crash. Back to work this morning for R&R!

The chicken run looks impressive though I do say so myself. Unfortunately my quantity surveying let me down and I don't have enough wire netting to complete the job. Finding the green PVC coated stuff has also proved difficult but I have some arriving tomorrow from Screwfix. On the plus side I have the perfect excuse to take it easy this evening!

Sad to hear that Humphrey Littleton had died aged 86. I loved his dry SOH on 'I'm Sorry I Haven't a Clue' - I've never known anyone be so filthy yet inoffensive.

Dry Chickens

Woke up this morning to a fine morning. As I leap from my bed my dear lady wife cried 'It had better rain!' 'Why for goodness sake?' 'Because I'm out all day so I can't go gardening!'

Ah - female logic strikes again.

Bill, my Parson Russell Terrier accompanies me up the back garden and past my four newly acquired chickens, still tucked up in their hen house. He runs over for a quick sniff before going to the gate to await lead fitting and 'walkies'. It starts to rain.

Bill and I stride off into the woods for our morning constitutional. It starts to rain hard. We return half an hour later very wet indeed and I notice that my chooks are looking singularly unimpressed with the precipitation - it's not doing their food any good either, it's starting to look like porridge. Queue frantic gathering of old planks of wood to place across the chooks run. I get even more soaked, Daphne (as opposed to Topsy, Betsy or Judith who are still peering doubtfully from the door of the henhouse) looks impressed. Bill looks bedraggled and miserable, as do I.

Good luck chooks, I'm in for breakfast, then work.........