The Weekend

We invited the in-laws over for lunch today – Easter Sunday – which necessitated a frenzied cleaning of the house such has not been seen for quite some time. It began twenty four hours before when it was suggested to me that I might be able to jet-wash the driveway, to remove the moss that has been threatening to envelop the house for the last several months. Of course it wasn’t really a suggestion – it was more an order.

While my other half ran errands, I fetched the jet washer, and set about blasting the moss to kingdom come. Here’s the thing about jet-washers that they don’t show you on adverts – those hundreds of gallons of water that fire at great velocity from the gun have to go somewhere. After ten minutes the drive didn’t so much look like a magazine advert, as like a historical re-enactment of the Somme, circa 1917. Have you ever tried to shovel liquid mud? I may as well have been using a garden fork.

After perhaps half an hour torrential rain decided to fall on me. Directly on me. Truman Show style. I was already soaked and spattered with mud from the jet washer, so carried on regardless. God knows what the new next door neighbours thought of me.

Oh yes! We have new next-door neighbours! A lady moved in yesterday, accompanied by three young boys as far as I can tell. At first I thought an entire circus troop were moving in, but it turned out the vast majority were friends and relatives helping her move house. I’m guessing we will try to introduce ourselves over the next few days.

As befits olive branches, and new neighbours, Miss 14 had a colossal tantrum last night (expertly goaded by Miss 12), and almost shook the house to it’s foundations with her Brian Blessed-esque town-cryer performance on the upstairs landing. I quietly walked upstairs and informed her that our new neighbours would probably be overjoyed at the idea of living in a house adjoined to such ridiculous histrionics. The answer was swift, and even louder than previous rants:

‘IT’S ALL YOUR FAULT – YOU’RE MAKING ME ANGRY! GO AWAY!’ (bedroom door slams in my face)

Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to go sit somewhere quietly, and feel sick. I’ve just eaten an entire Easter egg, and I’m not entirely sure why.

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