A Rose by any other name

Hello peeps
I can confirm that the holes in the cafe blinds were definitely not the size of snooker balls- they were definitely more like golf balls.I point this out because I suddenly realised that the blinds are actually within a dodgy shots distance of the snooker table (and believe me there are plenty of dodgy shots on our snooker table). I don’t want the insurance assessors (who are regular readers of the blog, along with politicians, netball referees and minor TV personalities) to get the impression that poor ball control, and not hail damage, was responsible for the extensive damage. I still hold that very large moths, with strange dietary needs created the holes. The assessors have already decreed that Wendy’s car can be saved, the garage have decreed that it is likely to be eight weeks before it’s fixed... uthhsssshhhh (that is the sound of a mechanic sucking air in through his, or her, teeth. What do you mean that’s not how it’s spelt, how would you spell it then?)... got to wait for the parts to come from Japan (it would appear from that length of time that they are coming via Weston-Super-Mare). All of the mechanics, windscreen specialists, tree surgeons, builders and piano tuners in the state are doing a roaring trade post-storm (okay, maybe not the piano tuners). In fact, it’s very difficult to get a tradesman even in normal circumstances but it’s nigh on impossible now. It’s okay though because me and George have been watching the entire first series of the A-team and have subsequently built some very handy DIY gadgets using only the entire contents of the garage, an arc welder and the novels of PG Woodhouse. Granted, at this early stage there are a few teething problems and we are creating more damage than we are fixing but I’m sure the plan will come together in the end. Are you all looking forward to the A-team film coming out? We get it at the beginning of June, I’m guessing that it isn’t going to be a ‘chick flick’... in fact I’d be very much surprised if the target audience isn’t 40 (ish) year-old men and 12 year-old boys.

‘Tis the calm before the storm. Later, we will be playing host to Harriet’s birthday party... yes it’s here at last. One of the ‘chosen’ guests couldn’t make it (as we are still in the Easter holidays) so the party bag with her name on it (which has been prepared since Christmas) has been hastily redecorated. I’m sure that Sophie won’t notice that whilst all the letters of her name are there, they aren’t necessarily in the right order.
The two most dangerous jobs to be done before the party have been completed, namely: the camp beds have been assembled without serious injury or the use of a safety net; and a space has been cleared in Harriet’s bedroom (machete’s, industrial jet-cleaners, 16 bin-liners, and a baboon called Nigel* were used in the process). The space is just big enough to fit two camp beds (I was so tempted to do the ‘camp’ joke again).
The more observant amongst you (you know who you are) will have noticed that I keep referring to Hattie as Harriet, there is a very good reason for this. The young lady in question has decreed that henceforth she will be known by her ‘correct’ name. There are several reasons for this, but the main one is the fact that in the local dialect she is known as ‘Haddie’ – which she is understandably not too keen on. So, for the moment she is Harriet or ‘@&’ ... the artist formerly known as’. The main problem with this name change is that it becomes more difficult to let her know she is being told off. In future when we are admonishing her, it will have to be ‘HARRIET ROSE DAVIES’ go and tidy your room (which, I’m sure, will still have absolutely no effect). For those of you who have already sent birthday cards with Hattie on don’t worry... the changeover is a work in progress and as long as you have written it in an English accent it will be perfectly acceptable. I suspect that when we have successfully reverted to calling her Harriet she will decide that she wants to be called Rose, or maybe Thing A, or Chocolate Thunder or Bob.

Wendy’s course at Howling Mad Murdoch and her trip to the UK have been delayed (neither delay was caused by Volcanic eruptions on Islands formerly ruled by Denmark). She may be heading to northern Europe in September/Octoberish and the course has been pencilled in for early next year (incidentally, with my guidance, she used a 2B pencil because it’s easier to rub out... see, my seven years at college wasn’t entirely wasted). She is, however, still having to sit a test next Saturday (which will take all day) to prove she is competent in the English language. This includes listening, reading and writing which she should be fine with. The problem could arise with the speaking interview... Essex accent? (I’m well aware that this is a case of pot/kettle/black and that with my slight northern twang I clearly haven’t got a leg to stand on). Needless to say she’s very happy about having to spend half the weekend sitting the test.
Right, I’ve got to go now to be tested on whether my English skills are up to the task of buying several CD’s, a book and a crate of cider. I’m thinking that I could probably purchase the last item using sign language only (indeed, if I’ve already had a couple of apple based beverages the power of speech probably won’t be available to me anyway). Back soon.
*We have, as yet, been unable to ascertain Nigel’s role in the clear-up process.