Spring here is erratic. One day it is bucketing down with rain
and you cannot get your hands warm, the next you are in shorts and a t-shirt
dodging sunrays and then suddenly it is summer…at least I hope it is. It is still only April and the weather
can be unpredictable.
Still, it feels like
summer and two weeks ago at the inauguration of our new Police Station I got a
touch of sunburn. I always get
caught out every year, not realizing the intensity of the spring sun. I was only out for about 20
minutes. The worst place for the
burn is the area between neck and chest, the décolletage. Now it is slathered with sunblock as
are other bits of me and I am being more careful to stay out of the full
sunlight. I discovered early on
that lobster-red is not a good look on anybody. Even Red Indians are not really red.
Two weeks ago I went
to the hairdresser and got my hair cut short as well. It was time, as the other cut was starting to be a bother
and I was not liking how it looked or felt. Or perhaps it was just a case of "Washing that Man
Right Out of My Hair"? When I
got home I brushed it and styled it and put in gel and wax and all sorts of
stuff to make it do what I wanted it to.
Then I told the FaceBook world with a photo and my sister posted me an
article on "Mum Hair".
Nothing like a sister to burst your bubble. Oh well, maybe the article is right and I am sending out a message to be left alone. After all a girl needs time to slob
around a bit in her PJs and tatty slippers without the male gaze to send her
running for something a bit more sexy. The Westies could not care less how I
look or dress as long as I feed them and rub their tummies. Though now I come to think of it, they
did look at me a little bit curiously when I can home with the new short hair,
as if to say: "Sounds like her, smells like her, but is it her??"
So once I had got my
own new look sorted I booked the 'kids' in to 'Posh Pets' for a spring
haircut. They were looking
decidedly scruffy and Kerry even had a couple of dreadlocks developing under her
armpits. Burrs were beginning to
be an issue on walks and with the temperature rising they were all beginning to
look a bit hot and bothered.
Les, from PP came to
collect them at 11.00 am on the Tuesday and I spent the day happily cleaning,
washing and making beds in preparation for Kate (daughter) who was arriving the
following day. It is always easier
to get things done without all those tummies to rub…every five minutes or so. I steamed through the little jobs and
when 5 o'clock came I was ready to receive my three delicious doggies. They were already making their way up
our lane from the carpark and as usual I hardly recognized them as mine. They do look lovely after a wash and
cut and they smell heavenly (if only for a short while). To add to the confusion PP often get
them into the wrong harnesses. The
first time this happened, when they were all quite new to me, I honestly did
not know which was which. Normally
they are colour coded. Kerry is
red, Candy blue and Looki is black.
Actually, I know them all so well now that their own little characters
shine through and I can tell them apart easily. Not so for others who pass us in the street and who see
three identical dogs. People often
ask if they are siblings, to which I reply that the two girls are sisters and
that Looki is their cousin. Which
in fact is not far from the truth.
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| Delicious Westies |
I went to collect
Kate from the airport the next morning telling the doggies that I was bringing
someone very special home for them.
When we arrived in the door they recognised her immediately and were all
over her. Jumping up, licking and
kissing her. They are not stupid
and know that her arrival meant an extra lap and even more cuddles for
them. Which was indeed the case.
Up until Easter had
been especially busy for me. In
addition to the normal teaching and writing lesson plans I had to get some coin
designs off by the 1st of April. I duly did this and, as I have said, after that was simply
the run-up to the visitor's arrival.
The minute we stepped out of the taxi I went straight into holiday mode
and at 12.00 noon we had cracked open our first bottle of Cava and dropped some
amaretto into it. Sitting on the
terrace we began the usual catching up of what she had been doing and what I
had been doing. I don't think we
stopped talking, except to rub a few doggies, until we dropped into bed that
evening – quite early, but pretty drunk.
After the Amaretto and Cava we had adjourned for something to eat to
Kate's favourite tapas bar "Bar Juan Sanchez". We ate and drank plenty and then, still
chatting, came home and it seemed a very good idea to make Margaritas. In retrospect it wasn't such a good
idea as we really should have done our little bits of shopping first, but 20/20
vision is sooooo boring. So we had
a couple of very large Margaritas and then I decided that we could not live
without buying a chicken for the dogs.
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| Too many Margaritas and too many Westies |
In the heel of the hunt we did not cook it until the Saturday, when the shops were all open again anyway and the dogs were perfectly happy with tuna and rice in the meantime. However, our trip was not wasted. Upon waking the next morning we discovered all sorts of goodies in the fridge, including smoked salmon and alli-oli and in the freezer were two tubs of ice-cream. We also discovered two licked clean bowls carelessly flung in the living room and bizarrely one in Kate's room also. I had no recollection of purchasing half these things, but apparently it was I who put the salmon in the trolley.
The next morning was
Maundy Thursday and I was feeling very sorry for myself with a crashing
headache and an untidy, sticky kitchen to clear up. Margaritas are very sticky. So we took the dogs out for a walk, came back, made sense of
the kitchen and I cooked a decent fry to fortify us.
I do not remember
all the details now of what we did together over the next couple of days, but
it was a lovely chatty, peaceful time involving a few more glasses of wine
and some very good food, such as smoked salmon on bread and scrambled eggs with
smoked salmon and bread dipped alli-oli and the dogs became more and more fond
of Kate as the days passed. On the
last night the two girls even deserted me and slept in the guest room…with
Kate, the traitors!
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| Traitors |
When I returned from
the airport on Easter Sunday they were visibly shocked that Kate was not with
me as they looked longingly at the door to see her walk back in behind me.
And suddenly Easter
has passed. And with it the glorious weather. We are back to rain and heavy skies and my humour is
similar. And the back of my neck is freezing cold.
P.S. for some, no
good, reason it has taken me nearly two weeks to post this, even though it was
written. Artists it would appear
do not only suffer from writer's/artist's block, but also from self-doubt. Not so Westies! Xxx
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| Utterly confident, but it makes getting to the desk rather difficult…utterly cute too. |
