There's a power cut
04 April 2016
On Friday one of our ex-battery hens died. I think she was stressed from just finishing her moult and the noise from the pile driving that Network Rail were doing during the early hours. The pile driving is the most likely.
On Saturday we took dear child to his grandparents for the afternoon whilst we went to the garden centre to buy some strawberries two fruit trees and some tomatoes. Hopefully he will be pleased to see some fruit growing.
Due to weather and lack of sleep we were unable to do anything with her until Sunday.
Sunday came, dear wife started cooking our brunch, eggs in the oven for an omelette along with many hash browns and sausages. Quite the feast was underway. We were going to dine like kings.
I had a hot fire going in the garden, we put our dearly departed chicken in for a DEFRA approved cremation.
Dear wife comes out and gives me some bad news:
There's a power cut
Oh dear. I look towards the burning bin. Some clear juices flowed out. I couldn’t. Though, would this be what a chicken would want, they are omnivores after all.
When the power returned dear wife came out again.
The oven doesn't work.
Oh great. So, I better get planting in the garden then. Dear child goes to sleep indoors whilst I’m outside working. After some digging I gave myself quite a large blister on the palm of my hand. Quite a few hours later I go inside and dear child is still asleep but we have to eat, it’s been nearly a whole day since we last ate. We head for the nearest pub but dear child just doesn’t want to walk there, it’s late, who can blame him. We make it there, order some food, wait a while, the food comes and so too do the tantrums.
We put dear child to bed as soon as we got home, he was out cold.
Whilst carrying dear child into the house, we over hear a woman across the road when her neighbour returned home.
Her neighbour: are you ok Her: Have you seen what they've f**king done to my gate? They've only gone and repaired it, not like those f**kers on the other side of the road. They get new stuff given to them, not repaired.
She goes inside slamming the door. To be quite honest, if I was in her situation, I’d be really glad if someone came and repaired simple things like gates for me. Having to do repairs myself is fun, but it takes time. Would be nice if I didn’t have to. Things like repairs though, they’re what make life worth living as it gives a great sense of accomplishment.
Until 04:00 this morning when he woke up wanting to get into Mummy and Daddy’s bed. I don’t think either of us could return to sleep with dear child playing around on the bed.
I rode to work as normal on my push bike. The plaster that I put on the palm of my hand blew off in the wind whilst I was getting ready. Too late to think about getting something else to cover it, clean it off in the shower when I get to work I think to myself. After a few meters of riding I realise what a terrible idea that was as every bump is felt on the raw and exposed skin.
Many knock on events from the work that Network Rail were doing over this week. It’s not been fun.
The electric company dug the pavement up outside the neighbour’s neighbour (the parking plonkers address). Dear wife went to put dear child in the car when the electric company arrived, out of curiosity she asked them the obvious question:
Dear wife: would this have anything to do with my oven being faulty? Engineer: yes, there maybe a few things not working, call this number
We will see what happens, this could just be a fobbing off.
During the conversation he asks about a car (one that the parking plonker owns) and if we know where the keeper is. Dear wife points towards the plonker’s house. Out storms the plonker’s wife.
Plonker's wife: Are you f**king pointing at my house (various expletives clipped as it's not worth the time typing). Engineer: we need the car moved so we can work Plonker's wife: When do you need it moved by? How long are you going to be
As normal, her tone abrasive, I hope the engineer doesn’t offer help to her as an attitude like that deserves no help.
Dear child bruised his leg at some point yesterday. When we change his nappy and he can see his knee he says:
Leg, broken. New leg.
He wants a new leg.