The opening lines of a Kylie Minogue song depict the theme tune to my life this week. Unicef are doing well out of my offline fee as last night’s absence racked up another one pound donation. Strictly speaking I did have time to blog, but hubby wanted me to cuddle up to him in front of the fire (something we rarely do together) so thought I better sacrifice the blog for a little boost to our marriage (plus it is his birthday tomorrow too). He ended up falling asleep on my shoulder while I watched a fascinating programme about avalanches.
Yesterday after school was particularly good as I found my daughter was far more willing to ride round the fields when I joined her on another horse. Now baby boy seems to be able to operate small ride on toys such as the trike, he was happy busying himself on that while me and my daughter rode round the paddock by the yard. It was a lovely autumnal evening and we were trotting round the paddock looking out across the fields and the trees beyond and, occasionally, riding alongside each other (when her pony decided to put in the extra effort to keep up). After a while I did have to put him on a lead rope as he decided to amble back to the gate once he had done a few laps, leaving my daughter flapping her legs in an effort to influence him in the opposite direction in a manner similar to the Thelwell cartoons.
What I hadn’t anticipated was the amount of pleasure we both experienced riding together. I did this briefly with my Mum when I was a teenager, but she wasn’t very confident and the hacking sometimes got a little boring. However, I am hoping that my daughter will enjoy it once we get beyond the gates of the stables. Particularly as we live in a horse friendly area, where there is a hitching post both at the local shop and pub to stop for drinks and ice-cream.
Changing the subject to the attempt to sell our house, I hadn’t anticipated how annoying it would be to respond to constant enquiries from neighbours on how many viewings we have had, whether we received any feedback and tolerating listening to their own views on the price of our house and commentary on the health of the property market. If I lived in a fantasy world where I wouldn’t cause offence if I told them to eff off, I would be saying ‘fuck off you nosy bastards’ but sadly I have to tolerate such enquiries and provide a response, albeit guarded. It is a bit like being close to the end of a pregnancy and people asking when the due date is and whether you have had any contractions.
The biggest annoyance is keeping the house unusually tidy for viewings and disappearing every weekend for people to look round. Particularly when, after having tolerated viewings at relatively unsociable hours for families (kid’s bedtime), they insult you by putting in an offer 30k below asking. When you ask them to improve that offer, they then only increase it to 5k. I would be considered a mug if we sold our house for the same price that we bought it for 6 years ago – but strangely some people think that we might like to accept the offer to find out what it is like to actually be a mug.
Once again I find myself using the letters ‘FO’ ………..and its only Tuesday.
I am blogging every day to raise money for Unicef. It would be fabulous if a fellow blogger could donate to this campaign – if you do I will gladly mention you in my next blog post plus any other words you would like to see me try to weave into the text.
Thanks for reading.