Good Morning, Good Morning!

Dear God, What on earth have I done to upset you today?

Welcome to the real word and the bemused rantings of the disparate housewife...

I dare say that from time to time most of us have uttered words to that effect; I most certainly have, as recently as this morning. DG was truly my knight in shining armour today, in so far as he took BB down to the village & the school bus. Such a small thing can have great impact on the life of Polly P, ie I get to doze for another few minutes under the luxuriously soft goose down quilt I got from Santa last Christmas.

Sometimes, however, such niceties unwittingly open the door to disaster. This morning, for instance, everything should have been going swimmingly well except we were running late; looking for the disappearing schoolbag. To make matters worse our lovely neighbours were in the process of moving cattle and had blocked the road for the duration.Thankfully Mrs MiF is one of the kindest of teachers and appeared to be quite forgiving of our situation, and LB did at least bring a healthy lunch to school!

Of course, were I a proper Mum this situation would simply not have occurred. The offending article would have been located the previous evening and packed accordingly; along with clean school uniform, underwear and shiny shoes. Unfortunately this is not the case in our house. Hopefully no-one noticed my nightgown; hanging beneath my inside-out cardigan, over my combats, or for that matter the fact that my dessert boots were trailing their laces behind me as I crossed the school yard...

Immediately upon my harried return I set about ransacking my own home; an act made necessary by the fact that I am no longer a domestic goddess, rather an exasperated wretch of a slob & layabout. Perhaps I exaggerate the extent of the disorganisation within the confines of my country cottage, but at times I do feel quite beyond despair.

Meanwhile; as a measure of my desperation urgent telephone calls were made to several unsuspecting innocents; firstly there was BJK - after all it's not unusual to be (loved by anyone...) down there of an evening, completing after school assignments [very posh phrase for homework] ,
next was the poor man at the Nissan dealership [my little black baby required serious fixing twice in the past week and is still on its hols there], then our lovely headmaster Mr HD; [who promised to check that the offending bag hadn't absconded to the classroom during the hols] and finally the poor beleaguered mother of LB's friend, [who wasn't in but got the OH to ring me back]. I'm out of breath after all that; phew, what a long sentence!

Needless to say there is a limit to anything, and soon I reached mine. Let's face it; two hours of ransacking the house over and over again is enough for anyone. It's well to tell that I am an amateur, as a professional burglar would have located said bag in less than three minutes; along with anything of value!

Anyway, feeling just a little crest fallen, at my failure to prepare my baby for school properly I decided that I should nourish my ailing body. LB had flatly refused to eat microwave porridge this morning, and so, in an effort to be frugal I reheated the sticky offering for myself.

Served up with a tablespoon of homemade strawberry syrup and a well deserved cuppa rosy lee (tea), all signs of self-reproval instantly vanished; it was delicious! Heartwarming & healt'y too, (around here we like to pronounce our T's wherever possible).

I then decided that I had a business to run and fought my way towards the computer at the end of the darkly strewn hallway. Having steadfastly ignored the rule that one should never take out more than one can comfortably put away in one hour; the house remains like a bombsite. Nevertheless, I was able to reach my destination with relative ease! Yeah, right...

With one flick of a switch I was transported to another world. The age of computer science really has changed the face of humanity; I had seventy four new e-mails awaiting delivery. Imagine the face of the poor postie, had he delivered as many snail mails, whatever about his legs straining under the sheer weight of it all!?

Bye y'all!

Polly Px Polly Peirce
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