Week 17: Needs Improvement

I awake to the sound of Bruce the Shark’s motor running (for the uninitiated, Bruce is the vacuum cleaner). Unlike the now Brexitted Dyson, which sounded like a Vulcan bomber at full thrust, Bruce makes a relatively gentle whirring and hissing noise, but enough to get through the fog of sleep.

“Oh, Bruce is running” I think.

Then “Hold on, Bruce is running?”.

I jump out of bed and gallop downstairs to find Gin (so called because “A gin a day helps you work, rest and play”) hoovering the hall. But what’s this? Jurgen Mopp (for the uninitiated, a mop) is primed and ready for use as well?

A sense of foreboding settles over me. These are my tools of the trade. Admittedly, they’ve seen so little use there is nearly as much dust on them as there is on the wooden floors, but nonetheless mine they are. Judging by the way Bruce is being hammered about, the foreboding is justified.

”Why are you doing my jobs?” I bravely venture.

Bruce is switched off. Gin draws herself up to her full height (just about reaching my breast-bone) and witheringly replies “I am fed up with getting stuck to the kitchen floor and then picking up fluff with my sticky feet as I walk around the rest of the house. My feet look like Bilbo Baggins’s, they‘ve picked up so much stuff”

“Well you are the right height and have got whacking great plates of meat” I reply, attempting to inject some humour.

Now dear reader, let me tell you that the “inappropriate use of humour” was something that occasionally dogged me in my early career. And apparently still does. Let me also tell you that a firmly swung mop is an effective “learning“ tool. Seems my three month probationary period has been extended on the back of a “Needs Improvement” rating. Must try harder. Well, no. Must do more of the things that need doing rather than the things I like doing.

Week 17 then. Possibly not the most successful. But wait! What are those long steel, tensioned wires that are now affixed in half meter gaps in two locations on the front of the house? Well I’m glad you noticed; they are the newly installed Wisteria wire-trellis system that yours truly put up. Yours truly thought it would take 90 minutes. 5 hours later in 31 degree heat and full sunshine (because the sun moved round but the house didn’t) the job was over. And so was yours truly. A dehydrated husk of a man, with hands ripped to shreds and blisters running riot. I bloody hate DIY. Maybe I should take up cleaning instead. I tell you what, if that Wisteria doesn’t thrive there will be blood (or possibly sap) spilt.

In other news, Gin returned to school full-time this week, which is a source of happiness for her. It’s a strange arrangement, with only year 10 in school and that has been split into four, with a quarter of the year group in each week. The teachers are asked to go home as soon as lessons are completed, meaning that on some days Gin is there until normal day-end, and others home just after lunch. This has allowed me to get out on the bike and the golf course ... too frequently it would seem. Four weeks of this then it’s school holidays. Hoorah!

Talking of holidays, there’s been great excitement on the Gin side of the family as she and her sister (we shall call her “Piggy” because that’s what Gin calls her. She calls Gin “Slaggy” in return. It’s a warm, sisterly relationship based on insults and a shared love of a particular, clear alcoholic beverage) have booked to go stay with Auntie F in Aberdeen in August. It’s an annual trip for both families, but not one the sisters have made together before. Now Auntie F likes a wee tipple, but I suspect is in for a surprise at the size and volume of wee tipples her visitors will tuck away. Still the Scottish economy will welcome the boost. This of course will leave BT (Boy Teenager) and GT (Girl Teenager) home alone with me for most of a week, which isn‘t so different to normal term time.

GT has had a quiet week in which she has spent most of her time designing and building houses for her mates in a Sims online game (Sims is a computer game which mimics life and in which the players are granted God-like powers. You can help your Sims populations thrive, or kill them off through neglect. A bit like living in America under Trump). This means that she has had no time to help me cook, which is same because Fancy Dan was in town, producing home made cannelloni with venison ragu, parmesan bechamel, flash-fried kale and mushrooms. Mmmmm.

BT has been out with his mates again which is fantastic, but has been steadily losing the battle with his sleep pattern, which is sad. Try as we and he might, the gentle slide towards being awake all night has continued, with sleep arriving for him at around 5am by the end of the week. Events trigger off the slide; this time it was accelerated by last week’s Key Worker Crips and their 1.20am (suspected) car damaging spree.

In better news, BT actually joined us on a Zoom video chat with our two CAMHS (Child & Adolescent Mental Health) psychologist-types that have been trying to help us to help him (for two years he has refused help) and has said he will join the next one in July. We are seeing quite a few unexpected and positive developments with him at the moment. You almost want to hold your breath for fear that the slightest puff of air will blow it all of course, but for now we will simply be thankful that these little changes are appearing out of the blue.

And with that I had better finish. Due at the golf course in 90 minutes. The cleaning can wait until tomorrow.

Love and elbow-grease,

Mr H

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