Dear diary,
I take everything I have ever, ever said about my mother, which may have been misconstrued by the less intellectually capable as perhaps implying I thought she shared a brain cell with an amoeba on a part-time basis – the woman is a genius.
Last week I was less than happy to find I was sharing my field with the ginger whinger. My field is a barren moonscape with zero grass, a sea of mud and about as much nutritional value as a fat fighters polystyrene rice cake. But then the true brain power of my beloved mothership was unleashed because then we flipped the situation.
Why should this please me, I hear you ask? Are you not still sharing with the pint-sized pain in the posterior? Well, yes, there are small flies (ginger ones in this case) in the ointment, but the main crux of the matter is I’m now sharing HIS winter field. From which he has been absent for some time due to having spindly pathetic legs and an inability to cope with mud. But now it’s dried up a fair bit so we can get down to it without him needing a lifeboat and guess what? IT HAS GRASS!
The best bit is because he has PMT, he’s not allowed a lot of it, so he’s currently in a space even a London estate agent would have a hard time describing as anything other than the surface area of a zit, while I eat down his grass to make it safe. I am a grass safety device! And it’s wonderful!
Now, don’t get me wrong, this is my mother, so please don’t think I’m gaily frolicking across meadows here – I am confined to a pretty small space myself, because god forbid I get a kilo over my fighting weight, unlike herself whose fighting weight these days seems to have included eating her opponent…
I can however cope with the bijou nature of my space as it has grass in it. Did I mention the grass?
It also seems that we have saved up enough money to buy spring some balls and a strange glowing sphere has been seen in the sky the past few days. Such that we have been going out NAKED. Now, mother was last seen sending prayers to Crazy Self-Employed Lady and frantically buying up shares in whitening shampoos, but it has been rather lovely to feel the sun on our backs and not be risking hypothermia/drowning/waterborne diseases. How long it will last will depend on whether Spring has more will power than mother on a diet but heh, I will take it.
The only downside to the spring actually springing thing is it had mother in spring cleaning mode at the yard last weekend as she tackled tack rooms which may or may not have become a dumping ground for “stuff”/a breeding ground for arachnids with small snow drifts of sawdust up the walls and cobwebs big enough to use as hammocks.
Judging from the screaming, I suspect some of the spiders may have been large enough to saddle but she got the job done. I was not thanked for my managerial oversight role as I inspected her handiwork – I won’t repeat the language she used, but she might have suggested I was rather too large a unit to be in said aforementioned tack room. Luckily, I can reverse with more skill than most politicians so we all survived unscathed, but I’m not sure the use of the words “wide load” was necessary…
Anyways, she is off to the Currybean this week so she won’t be around to take down my musings next week. Normal service to resume the week after.
I’m off to enjoy my grass and some sunshine.
Laters.
Hovis
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