Annie Dominoe’s shoved another double six across the board, and before we’ve time to drain our looking glasses of the sites of summer, tempus is fugitting us all to queue at the bar for jugs of winter-warm and lamp oil and woollies. And what is there to tell of/for it?
The children are bigger and hungrier (in spite of eating more) me legs are creakier, but as we’re all mainlining on TLC, the fug of comfort and joy under the sacred roof tree becomes more and more addictive.
iriam and John each brought home the new school photo to add to the rogues’ gallery in the dining room, and the wall is now eight years long. That little boy in the play school photo is now in sole charge of lighting and feeding the lounge fire (though the ould feller still humps the wood in) and the fair toddler next to him can now bake bread entirely unaided. Barney is still with us, but when I take Valerie’s tea up of a morning, I have to lift her back end onto the bed (no- Barney’s). No, I’m not soft- I just don’t want her to scratch the wood.
alerie (lovely as ever) has just negotiated John a better choice of high school. He starts next autumn. As she’s in the trade, I rely on her informed judgement. I just make sure they’ve none of the sort of nasty buggers I had to put up with. Oh yes, and I hear there’s talk of a girlfriend- hush! The Catfield teachers and their own children have the use of a private swimming pool together. John and Wendy usually have a chat, comparing notes on their personal development courses. Nothing has been said at home, but he’s going through a fortune in cologne, talc and shower gel.
Miriam is quietly consolidating her persona of a fair, delicate, English Valkyrie. One day she’ll be able to perform a lobotomy with one sweep of her eyelashes, or that’s what it will feel like to the poor schmucks who tangle with her.
Valerie’s Delia Smith impressions continue to amaze and delight. I don’t know where she finds the energy for the school governing and the teaching as well, but we’ve been particularly glad of the latter because my season wasn’t a lot better than last years, and finished with burst river banks and flooding. The studio remained dry but was completely surrounded by water; safe but lonely. I did some nice trade after putting up the shutters, and had an excellent exhibition at the beginning of December.
o now the next jobs are- candle-making and Christmas cake (me) mince pies and truffle torte (Valerie) sticky buns and wrapping paper (Miriam and John) holly and ivy (Me, John and Barney), so with a brief halt for Miriam’s birthday and fancy dress party (still haven’t done the mouse ears, tail and whiskered snout) it’ll be total deregulation on jollifickatory-type celebrations, and if either the family out in the byre, or the old geezer in the red coat and white whiskers want to know where they’ll be honoured, tell them not to be loitering around draughty old stone piles or in the department stores, tell them Barneybees is deferably where it’s at. Say you heard it from one wot nose.
Merry Christmas, everybody,
From Valerie, Neil, Miriam,John and Barney.