So Long & Here’s One About a Fish

I have enjoyed writing this blog, and will continue to Tell Two People every day about going to Tanzania to volunteer as a homeopath with the Homeopathy for Health in Africa charity; however I think it is time to stop blogging.

For my swansong, I’ve always wanted to tell this story, so here it is. It isn’t mine, so I hope the original Mr. and Mrs. X forgive me for any embellishments.

One morning my friend came down to breakfast to find her husband muttering “le poisson est mort”. Now my friend is fluent in French, having lived in Paris for a year, but French out of context before the first cup of tea can be a bit tricky, and it took a few grimaces and subtle nods towards the fish tank before she picked up the message; the fish is dead (and floating in the tank). With three children it was necessary to use some subterfuge to race them through breakfast without spotting the floating body, but they managed it and the children were whisked off safely to school leaving Dad to dispose of the corpse.

In the playground the event was retold and the gathered mothers nodded sagely at the gravity of the situation before one piped up “well I guess you’ll be having a funeral then”. Funeral? Flippin' Heck, do kids expect funerals these days? a frantic search in the handbag produced the phone and Dad was called.

“But I put it in the bin”

“Well you will jolly well have to get it out”

“But there’s all kinds of revolting stuff in there”

“Think of your little one’s tragic faces.....” (blackmail – it always works)

So Dad had to rummage around the bin, past manky tea leaves, soggy cereal and mouldy fruit. But no joy (did he really try girls?). Desperate, he got out a carrot and began carving a goldfish, making it just thin enough so that it could wobble a bit.

When the kids got home from school, they were lined up and quietly told of the tragic demise of the fish. (To be fair, it was just something they had won at the fair, so it was never going to last very long – but of course this was not said). Sad faces all round, and the little bit of carrot was hoicked out of the water and placed in some news paper (very quickly) before being carried out to the garden where a hole was dug to hold the remains of the little fellow (sorry, carrot). Prayers were said, tears were shed and a moving moment was had by all whilst Mum finally let out a sigh of relief and mentally promised no more goldfish.

   *** Next January I plan to write a blog from Tanzania ***

The Joy of Being a Boy

Yesterday was my wedding anniversary which we celebrate with cards but not a lot more, so last night we popped round to see friends who have the same anniversary. I Told both of them and they promised their support, which was kind. They asked how my husband will cope, but he just laughed as he is the chief cook in our house and we would all starve before he does. (There was a whistful sigh from the corner as the wife asked if he'd consider giving lessons).

Today I also Told a local seamstress, in the hope of enlisting her help at the Swish Party, but grandchildren seem to be the priority at the moment so I need to look elsewhere. 

It was then time to take the boys off to our dentist, who is lovely but rather far away and the journey is long. As a Good Friend, she has already been Told, but whilst in the dentist's chair I managed to Tell the nurse, who it turns out has used homoeopathy with her own children, so was very interested in the project.

We then took our dentist for lunch in a pub where, as it's holiday time, she indulged in the novelty of buying the boys a beer (they've been too young before). This was fine until it came to the long journey home; whilst we were stationary in one of those interminable motorway queues the eldest piped up how he sometimes loves the advantages of being a boy before nipping out behind a bush for a quick pee. It seems this triggered off a frenzy of activity from other male drivers, until the final chap began racing frantically back as he had seen the traffic moving off and his van was slowly being left behind. I did feel kind of envious, until I remembered that not being a boy, I don't drink pints of beer, so don't have the same problem.

Follow-My-Leader

Did I complain about teenage sons? well I take it all back, I definitely could not cope with them if they were young again. My Young Friend has been staying, and she is truly a joy, but playing follow-my-leader has seriously done for me and I need to lie down for a week.

Her, her mum and I gaily sailed off down the street before being told it was time for follow-the-leader again. We were penguins, aeroplanes, ducks, funny walkers & jumping kangaroos and I was knackered. We made it into the Co-op where, leaning heavily on the counter, I Told the cashier about Homeopathy for Health in Africa - she was very supportive.

Next we skipped off to the local museum to enjoy the oddities of Olney. On the way out I Told both people in the museum shop, and has a nice little chat about it; but it was now time for tea & cake. And yesterday it was Baking Day in the Tea Shop so we were able to launch into new delights. Looking up from my plate for a minute, I noticed the lady next to us (probably wondering if I was half starved). I started chatting to her and found that she was a visitor to town, so recommended a few highlights of Olney as well as Telling her about my volunteering.

We got back home (without getting soaked this time), the car was loaded and I waved good bye to the darling duo. Walking slowly back inside, I considered just how much cake I have eaten in the past few days before flaking out on the sofa. (I think I need to cut down).

Drowned Rats

Came down this morning to discover that the house had been taken over in the night (my son -back from uni in Northern Ireland). It seems that even when you return by plane with a luggage limit, it is possible to bring back all your washing.

The morning was taken up with a hospital check-up for my husband. Waiting, I realised that the people around me were really rather pre-occupied and would probably prefer not to hear from me, so I kept quiet.

My lovely friend and her 5 year-old daughter arrived later and we went in search of Afternoon Tea. We took turns playing follow-the-leader down the road, competing to see who could do the daftest walk or repeat the silliest thing. It's brilliant being a kid.

Tea and cake , naturally, were yummy and we then popped into the toy shop to spend a few pennies. I Told the lady, whilst the others browsed. Unfortunately the rain had started and we tried running, but eventually gave up and accepted that we looked like drowned rats. People with umbrellas saw us and chuckled (obviously the rain was not such a surprise for them).After bundling into our PJs, my long-lost-son texted me. Earlier we had had a mother-son discussion when I insisted (stop me, please) that his washing would dry better outdoors, he disagreed, so we bet on it. His text said that I owe him - how did I know it was going to rain?

Birthday Flowers

Today I have been tied to the computer since crack of dawn so am having to rely on yesterday's numbers. That and the fact that I still struggle to Tell people if I don't have at least a 24 hours' build up.

I raced down to the post office, single-mindedly focused on getting there before it closed and somehow that single-mindedness stayed with me. I Told no-one, with all those people milling about the market place I could have managed something. It puts me in mind of a person I know who has tunnel vision, and describes it as being like 'looking at the world through a letter box'. Interestingly, their world seems to be shrunk too, never travelling away and rarely going to places off their usual path through town. Hmmmm, perhaps it is time for me to look a little wider....

Anyway, part of the rushing included calling in on a girlfriend to give her a joint birthday present. But, what do you give someone who just doesn't really want anything? (happy with her lot, rather than rich). Ah, well I had thought flowers would be good - some nice flowering plants to grow in the garden and then look out on all summer. Seems this is not necessarily the case as it turns out they are planning to redesign the garden over the next three weeks so it would only get squashed or dug up. So on to plan B. Fortunately my other pal has loads of tubs spare, so we can house them in those for the moment.

Presents, after the age of about 6 they're impossible. (Except, if you remember, that £160 box of chocolates from Hotel Chocolat. Surely anyone would like that?)

Just a Little Too Much to Eat

Today I have been at a 40th birthday party, outside in the sunshine - gorgeous.

On the journey down I was wedged  (the car was small) between two other folk; captive, they had nothing they could do while I Told them about volunteering in Africa. And all in all it helped the journey go by. One was the mother-of-the-bride-to-be and with only 8 weeks to go still did not have her outfit sorted! (The other was a chap, and as a fella he failed to see the drama in this. Huh!) In desperation she had even considered changing the theme from Pastel Pink & Purple to Fancy Dress Pirates. (No really, she had even gone on the internet and found that this opened up her options immensely and still meant her daughter could wear a posh frock - Kiera Knightly, Pirates of the Caribbean, you know...)

When we arrived the hog roast was smelling divine and we all assembled the different courses we brought to provide an enormous feast. Tucking into my grub I discussed homeopathy with a fellow who went on to tell me the ancient folk lore of how to catch a hare: you take two sticks into the wood, when you spot the hare, leave one stick with your coat on it (so he thinks you're still there) and duck, slowly edging your way around until you get behind him. Then go for it with the stick! He said that he had  sometimes got near a hare (in other words, no, it doesn't work in practise).

Pudding next. Fabulous, sticky, sweet, fruity puddings. Chomping, I chatted with a chap who, among his many talents, did Dame Edna Everidge impressions professionally. He too was interested in Homeopathy for Health in Africa (oh, I was wearing the sweat shirt up until then, so could point at this for reinforcement. Full of pavlova, I then had to take it off before I sweated away).

Cheese course - Told some more people, including a few homeopaths.

Then the birthday cake. What can I say? it was pure Chocolate Heaven. Made by a fabulous chocolatier (who clearly really knows his stuff). Praline, dark chocolate and double cream mousse (yes, you could taste it all!) fresh berries on top, dark chocolate rings to decorate. Oh.

Needless to say we all had some and finally waddled out to go home. Mmmmmm......

Fishing Dinner

Last night I went to a Fishing Dinner, that is a meal for a bunch of fellows who fish (and their wives). Needless to say there was a lot of bait-and-tackle discussion, but people were friendly and I managed to Tell the couple next to me about Homeopathy for Health in Africa, in fact we had a good chat. It's funny how different people pick up on different things; last night I was warned about the trauma of seeing poverty - which I'm sure is true - but I am currently still grappling with the worry about not seeing my hairdresser for 12 weeks.

One well travelled chappie listened to me and then gave me a single tip - which I share with you:
"when you arrive at the airport, do not go with any of the taxi drivers that try to take your bag (and apparently loads do), but choose one that hangs back." Sound advice I'm sure, so I didn't feel right mentioning that I might be catching the bus.

On the other side I sat next to a lovely lady and through the evening (having Told her early on) we talked about all kinds of things, including her chickens. It's seems Gadget Dave has a rival, in the shape of her husband. Since retiring it has become a nuisance to get up early and let the chickens out, so they have an electric door on a timer (!) The one time it failed they went out to find their most feisty chicken digging for freedom.

Finally the cheese course came, which for special effect was wrapped in nettles. (I say for special effect but I haven't a clue really and the things were so black and mouldy, quite frankly they could have been old socks). However all the cheese was eaten and conversation turned to nettles. Well, I extolled the virtues of drinking nettle tea as the men wept at the simplicity of my poor weak mind. Tony pointed out that the only good thing to do with nettles was to turn them into beer however on the one occasion that he had attempted this, on opening the first bottle (fortunately in the garden) the mixture exploded. In angry response he then tipped all the rest away. (Beneath the roars of laughter he quietly admitted that he had added extra sugar and yeast to make it stronger).