Bin It!

Last month, our local council, in its wisdom, decided it would go in for recycling.

In a big way.

So now, in addition to our black wheelie bin:

(except we have two black wheelie bins because of the amount of rubbish we generate).......we now have...the kerbside caddy, for food waste:

This is not the Father of This Lot, by the way. This is a man from a council website. Not ours. Do you see the small green caddy with which he's transferring the aforementioned food waste? That's the one you now have to keep in the kitchen to hold all your peelings, leftovers, eggshells, tea bags and bones.

I can fill one of these per day, so the kerbside caddy is of little use to me. I have had to commandeer my mothers, who flatly refuses to recycle, so in addition to our two black wheelie bins we now have two kerbside caddies.

Moving on, allow me to show you the green bin for garden waste:

I have to say we don't use this much, as there is little time for gardening. This mainly contains dead bunches of flowers which the Father of This Lot buys each time he finds himself in the doghouse. (So, at least one bunch per week, then).

Next up comes the brown bin, which is for plastics and aluminium. Due to the amount of canned drinks consumed around here, I actually have to sit on the lid of this one on Wednesday nights for collection on Thursday mornings.

Oh....I almost forgot.....the paper and card bin.

Are you still with me? Good.

This would all be really easy if every bin was collected every week.

No such luck.

The food bin is collected every week. The others are collected in some complicated rota which the council, very kindly, spent hundreds of thousands of pounds on printing, so that everyone would know which day was for which bin.

Par for the course, we have lost ours. So, at seven thirty on a Thursday morning, I can be found outside looking up and down the road to see what colour bin everyone else has put out. It would appear that I am not the only one who has lost their colour co-ordinated rota because I seem to put out at least one wrong bin per week.

As you can imagine, bins are the talk of the town.

Everyone I meet has a bin story.

Personally, I can't see it lasting. It's far too complicated.

In the words of one old lady at the church coffee morning:

'It's worse than bloody Sudoku!'

Prayer Request

This is a very short post as the keyboard has packed up (one of this lot has spilt something on it again), so I am using the on-screen one which is gradually sending me blind.

Will you please pray for my friend Renae's dad, and her family.

I know how good at praying you are!

Back tomorrow with (yet another) new keyboard.

Lost For Words

Football Fanatic (shouting through to the kitchen): MUM!

Me: Yes?

FF: You know that red stuff on the outside of a Babybel.....are you meant to eat it?

Me: No, it's wax.

FF: Oh.......

Pause

FF: Mum......

Me: Yes?

FF: You know if you accidentally eat wax......does it make you ill?

My Hero

God took the strength of a mountain

The majesty of a tree,

The warmth of an Irish summer sun,

The calm of a quiet sea.

The generous soul of nature,

The comforting arm of night,

The wisdom of the ages,

The power of eagles' flight.

He took the joy of a morning in Spring,

The faith of a mustard seed,

The patience of eternity,

The depth of a family's need.

When God combined these qualities,

There was nothing else to add.

He knew his masterpiece was complete,

And so...he called it....

Dad.

6th June 1924 - 23rd September 2003

I miss you, Dad.

Unlucky For Some

Oh Yippee!

Joy of joys!

Just what we needed - another teenager in the house!

I couldn't get on to Blogger yesterday to post this for The Fixer's real birthday, but it didn't matter, because I was so busy getting the house ready for the arrival of her friends for a sleepover that I wouldn't have had time anyway.

At one point I thought of putting up a large sign bearing the legend:

THIS IS WHAT A HOUSE LOOKS LIKE

AFTER FIVE KIDS HAVE SYSTEMATICALLY WRECKED IT

...but I resisted the temptation.

And it looked okay in the end, actually.

The Father of This Lot was not best pleased at having to put up a new curtain rail in the bedroom at the exact time that he had arranged to meet some of his posse in a pub, but......who cares?

I have to admit the bowling session and food for a gang of girls today came to slightly more than I was expecting....but the FOTL's bank card came in handy for that, especially as I had relieved him of it before he went to watch the football at the Mare and Foal.

And so a good time was had by all - even me (who was up till five in the morning for two days running).

Happy Birthday for yesterday to our newest teenager, The Fixer.

I only hope that your father feels it was worth all the trouble.

Especially when he gets the bill.

Painting The Town (Well, the Kitchen, Actually)

There I was, earlier this evening, rolling out pastry for a Chicken and Leek pie, when I decided to paint the kitchen.

(Please don't think that this has anything to do with the fact that it's The Fixer's birthday at the weekend and she's invited three friends for a sleepover, because it hasn't. Much).

Anyway, I sidelined the pie and went to look in the garage where (rather fortuitously, I thought) I found a load of Steve the Decorator's abandoned gear.

(Friend of the Father of This Lot. Last here the day before Christmas Eve. The decorator, that is, not the Father of This Lot. Sadly).

Back to the story......

Among the stash was some Vinyl Silk Emulsion. Now I may not be the best painter in the world, but I know that emulsion goes on walls and gloss goes on woodwork.

So I painted three walls....(Didn't do the ceiling. Don't like ceilings. I'll worry about that tomorrow)....and went back to the pie.

Anyway, I became aware of this....odour. I know paint smells, but quite honestly, you've never smelled paint like this. You know when you've had perfume for years and you open it and it smells sort of....off? Well, that was the smell. Off.

Various murmurs of 'Blimey, what's that smell?' and similar quips ensued (but not enough to put anyone off the Chicken and Leek pie, I noticed).

But it was getting to me. It just didn't smell....right.

I texted the Father of This Lot, who, I assumed, was in a pub somewhere.

And guess what? I was right!

Me: Are you with the decorator?

Him: No, why?

Me: Does emulsion paint go off?

Him: No.

Me: Well I've just painted the kitchen and it smells awful.

Him: It's probably your cooking.

I left it for what I considered to be a reasonable amount of time (about the same time as an icy stare would take had he been in the room) and texted again:

Me: Do you want to paint the ceiling tomorrow?

Him: I can't hear you. You're breaking up.

Me: IT'S A TEXT. HOW CAN I BE BREAKING UP?

Him: Why are you painting the kitchen anyway? Don't you think finishing the landing would be a better idea? x x

I gave up.

Now, I'm not psychic, but I can let you know what tomorrow's conversation will be.

He will come in, survey the damage (otherwise known as my attempts at painting) and he will say:

'God, that looks shocking'

and I will say:

'Well, you should have done it yourself then'

and he will say:

'I'd have got a proper man in'

and I will say:

'WELL, IF I KNEW A PROPER MAN I WOULD HAVE'

and he will sigh, take his coat off and say, in a despondent tone:

'Where's the roller?'

Ain't love grand?

And I know I haven't mentioned my mum, but she is getting there, and I'll tell you all about it soon.

So.....

......what do you want me to tell you about first?

Would you like to hear some tales of my heroic nursing deeds?

Perhaps you'd like details of my domestic efficiency.......

Maybe the lowdown on this lot's latest escapades.......

Or perhaps you'd like to know the state of play with me and the Father of This Lot...

Is it like this.....

or it is back to this........?

Answers on a post card please......

(Oh, come on, give me a break. I said it would only be gentle blogging)!

Hello......Is there anybody out there?

Just in case you were wondering.......It has felt like I've been doing this for the past few weeks:

Thank you, everybody, for all your lovely comments.

I'm not quite back to my fighting weight yet, but I hope to commence some

gentle blogging training tomorrow!

So, as Roy Keane once said to Patrick Vieira....

'I'll see you out there.....'