Sunday, 30 August 2015

Nothing to show for it!

Old Ada Hendriks (my maternal grandmother),
she of the wise saw and adage for every occasion, had
two questions in particular which were guaranteed to
drive me to near distraction.

Oh to be in England now that summer's here.

This wet, miserable bank holiday weekend somehow put
me in mind of her because I have accomplished
absolutely nothing of any worth whatsoever.

Here comes Question One.  I can still see the heavily
corseted old Victorian matron now in my mind's eye saying,
"You've just had three days off my girl and what have you
got to show for it?"
Nada granny, zilch, rien, zero, diddley squat.
I have accomplished nothing!

Whatever happened to sharing?

I really dislike bank holidays.  We're expected to do things,
enjoy stuff and generally put ourselves about a bit.
Well I've tried all that all to no avail, I really have.

I know the feeling.

I've been to a combined garden and dog show with my
lovelly Russian friend Gala and dog Max only to find that
the dog show wasn't on until the next day and the garden
show was farce. (That should have been "a farce"
I think I'm turning into an honorary Russian.)  Three pot
plants and a burger van with no customers.
I exagerate slightly but you get my drift.

Shall we call it a draw?

Rain stopped play both at the Acle cricket club and, more
importantly, at the allotments so no beans to freeze
as it's too wet for picking and too soggy to plant out my
parsley seedlings, so I was stuffed there too.

A girl after my own heart.

And try as I might inspiration for a new design simply wouldn't
come to me.  So as the rain lashed against the windows and
caused tumult on my pond I picked up my sewing only to find
that it was much too dark to see and the bulb had gone in
the lamp behind my chair.  Bugger, back to the boxed sets and
a square or five of bitter Belgian chocolate by way of recompense.

At least the Morris men copped it too.

Which bring me rather neatly on to the second of Ada's
irritating questions.  "Come on girl, speak up." (prod with
bamboo walking cane).  "What have you got to say for yourself?"

Donkey ride anyone?

I know what I was usually thinking at that point but I'll leave you to
fill in the blanks lest a ghostly voice should tell me to go
immediately to the bathroom and wash out my mouth with soap
and water.  No way Granny, that would probably constitute
child abuse these days!

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