The cows vanished! You know, the ones that live in the opposite field, the cows I hop across the road to commune with when I am in cow-communing mooooode, I mean, mode. They were there last night, they were there this morning, I nipped into town for less than an hour and when I came back - they were GONE!!
Well! You know what I immediately thought? I immediately thought, 'Someone has stolen my cows and taken them to market!' Okay, I know they're strictly speaking NOT my cows, but I feel like they could be because me and the cows have a bovine affinity. I can identify at least half of them from their weird hair-dos and their little habits. Anyway, the cows were gone, it was market day in Market Drayton and I felt immediately bereft.
For a brief moment I entertained the thought that maybe they had been abducted by an alien spaceship and were cruising the Milky Way (ahahahaha!) or visiting the Moooooon, but as the day went on with me pressing my nose forlornly against the living room window, wailing, 'Where are you, Cows?' I came to realise that they had, indeed, gone to market, ne'er more to return and stare back at me through that very same living room window. And then...
...they were back again! At 5.45, as I was mooching around the kitchen making a Quorn and vegetable filo pie and wishing I hadn't devoted quite so much time to cow fraternising, they suddenly came a-galloping into view, stopping every few gallops to chomp on the grass like they had never seen grass before in their lives!!! I opened the window. 'Hello, Cows!!' I shouted. 'Moooooooooo!!!' they moo-ed back. And all was well. (I didn't ask where they had been. I didn't want to know. My cows were back. Nuff said.)
Don't ask me how this happened, but three days ago a wasp got into my very snug jeans and bloody stung me. Twice. And it bloody hurt. I was even wearing wellies AND and shirt and cardie. B*****d wasp. The quick administration of anti-histamine and generous dose of TCP sorted out some of the swelling and pain, but it is only today I've stopped itching and feeling like my leg was going to drop off. I don't know - I've wandered happily amongst thousands of bees with so much as a tickle, yet one wasp...well....
Still applying for jobs. Any jobs. The need for job application has stepped up a notch in the last 24 hours because the floor by the corner of the bath (the shower end) suddenly decided to 'dip' in a slightly alarming fashion, and once Andy had wrangled with the horrid vinyl flooring (which I remember both of us declaring our dislike for when we viewed the house back in March) it was discovered the dip was due to a two foot squareish area of rotting floorboard. I tried not to have visions of that scene in the film 'The Money Pit' where the bathroom falls through the ceiling into the living room and Tom Hanks has an hysterical laughing fit, and Andy tried to stop Flora Bijou Mybug investigating the Underfloor World of Bathroom at Damson Cottage in her capacity of plumber's mate.
So, it looks like the bathroom refit we were planning to do anyway is going to happen sooner rather than later. A plumber is coming out tomorrow evening to view the job and no doubt do a fair bit of sucking in of the air through his teeth, and we are avoiding using the wall shower for the time being as we think this is where the problem is occurring. Like we know about plumbing and stuff. We have a bit of savings left over, but may have to raid the credit card. Who knows? Meanwhile, I am distracting myself by thoughts of lovely tiles and a proper glass shower screen and not the current 'flappy in the wind and sticks to you if the window is open' 3 quid shower curtain I bought from Morrisons when we got here. That, I think, might make a good rain shelter for the hens, who are now Ladying it in their new palatial grounds since the run has been reconfigured and relocated.
I'm off now. To gaze at the cows. And watch Bake Off. Hurrah! Byeeee!!!
Rantings, ravings, observations and musings, useful stuff, silly stuff, funny, sad and thoughtful guff!