The Friday photo: summer holidays, sports days, goggies and wabbits
So it was #2′s sports day yesterday. As usual, The Lovelies swept the board, with Big Lovely winning every heat in his age group (the short race across the field and the one that’s twice round the field – we don’t exactly measure metres) and the finals as well, Middle Lovely doing the same, and even teeny Little Lovely is well on the way to upholding the Lovely tradition with a very respectable third place in the tiddlers’ race (resplendent in velour joggers and pink hoodie, no less). D-next-door and Hubby all of a sudden remembered urgent appointments just before the Dads’ race and had to rush off, but Mr Lovely was forced into it by his offspring, and, true to form, won it by a country mile, and I came…er…hrmph in the Mum’s race. What? Didn’t catch that? Oh – I was somewhere in the middle.
Bert was an honorary sports day guest (special four-legged dispensation was given by the headmaster) and basked in not only the beautiful un-Irish sunshine, but in the masses of cuddles, wet kisses, half-nelson type hugs and friendly ear ruffles.
One tiny little girl (whose Mam assured me she loves dogs) eyed him suspiciously, dummy firmly in place:
TLG: ‘Zat a goggie?’
Me: ‘Yup, he’s a doggie’
TLG (narrows eyes and looks suspiciously like a homicide detective): ‘You shure?’
Me: ‘Yes, I’m positive. He’s a very rubbish greyhound, but he’s definitely a greyhound’
TLG: ‘Oh’ – removes dummy, inspects it and pops it back in – ‘he’s vewy big to be a goggie tho…’
Me: ‘Er..oh, is he?. Sorry about that’.
TLG (lying lengthwise across a sunbathing Bert and giving him a full, smacking kiss on the ear): ‘herro goggie’
In other news, the evil squadron of House Martins has returned to terrorise English Towers – luckily the weather’s usually so bad that I never get to hang out washing, otherwise I’ll be dive bombed into submission again. In worse news, they’ve decided to build a nest on the gable of the garage as well so we’ve got two families of the little buggers attacking us every time we go outside (sorry for the bad photography, but I feared for my life):
It’s sods law isn’t it … Andy’s vegetables are sprouting all over the place, uneasten by wabbits and in one month we are leaving them and the house behind … what a waste.
Oh no! Can’t you dig them up and bring them with you? Oh no, actually, people will probably think you’re mental…
Your veg etc looks really great. All of our herbs which we* were growing from seeds died, except the mint, no killing mint is there? So we* bought and replanted herbs that were pretty well established and they’ve taken really well. The dog ate half of the chives but they’re recovering. But the carrots, oh the carrots are flying up!!! And the tomatoes aren’t doing half bad either.
*when I say “we” I really mean my other half – I supervise and “ooh” and “aah” in the appropriate places.
Good work in the garden, very impressed, we have tomatoes and raddish galore !
Jenn: Sounds like you* are doing quite well. And I’m jealous about the carrots. Want a spare bunny or three? x
Kate: They live in a fucking great field! If they’re so bloody wild they should stay there and stop encroaching on my teeny patch of suburbia. Bastards
Bugs: I’m with Growup. You and Kate are patently mental. I’m going to pack up a big huge box full of wascally wabbits and send them to you in Canada. With love.
Moon: He is, but he’s suffering from a ‘groin strain’ (nothing to do with me). It was quite pathetic to see them both sneaking off. Ooh I love radishes – should have grown them. Did you see Growup’s enormous radish? (fnar fnar) x
Lu: Am I famous? What did I miss?! Oh yah, Oprah’s people are, like, SO annoying – they just keep on and on, dahling xxx
PS. I love Bert – give him a big hug and tell him not to worry about the rabbits.
Baino: Blimey, they’re even more hard-core in Australia then! I love watching them, and they’re welcome in the rest of my garden, as long as they stay off my bloody seedlings!!
I look forward to my wabbitmail!!!!! x