Tuesday, July 15, 2008

Polly's Home Sweet Home

On Sunday evening; when we returned from our lovely holiday in the Co Donegal village of Downing's I was full of energy. Despite a rather long drive, five or so hours including one pit-stop at Drumcliffe below Ben Bulbin, Co Sligo whereby LB dashed to the bathroom.

At this stage we'd been on the road for at least two hours and we were all getting a bit stiff/fractious/desperate, etc; so it was decided to grab a coffee and a short stroll around the graveyard where WB Yeats the famous Irish poet is burried. What a welcome relief this twenty minute break was...

After this with our energy renewed we trundled on down the road for another couple of hours; playing the ubiquitous game of 'eye-spy'. Usually it is me that gets into trouble with my peers for coming up with the most unusual/cryptic answers; leading to outright rebellion on the part of my fellows. Unusually it was BB who took this role upon himself; keeping us going for miles upon miles with answers like 'Mum's hair!' for a word beginning with 'M'. Talk about how to loose friends in a hurry...

Following a quick cup or two of tea upon our arrival in the village; BJK having not seen us for the previous fourteen days couldn't wait to see us and had made up a batch of freshly baked scones in our honour. Unfortunately the quiche, sausage rolls and Mark's Tart's had already been despatched to our own home an hour or so previously - this said, it gave us an added incentive to go home!

When we reached the driveway to our house; we realised that the reports of ghastly weather back home had not been exaggerated. The previously packed earth driveway bore all the symptoms of what we had been lucky enough to escape while enjoying sunny days punctuated by occasional showers up in the north. The drive was now sticky, squelchy mud reminding us that our holidays were well and truly over as it greeted us with all the enthusiasm of a long lost relative and the lush green lawns were at least six inches longer than anticipated!

Before anyone was brave enough to place their foot to the drive I had already demanded that each should bring his own rucksac or holdall into the house and deposit it in front of the washing machine. In our absence BJK had kindly ploughed through the ever present mountain of laundry; leaving all three of our baskets more or less empty. Within minutes this situation had been reversed in entirety; having had no laundry facilities two full weeks worth of clothing belonging to four persons disgorged itself directly into the awaiting baskets. Moments later the machine sprung into life and the lights were seperated from the darks, etc...

I have to thank Fly Lady and her minions for my enthusiasm in this area. In previous years the holdalls would have stood in the hallway or sitting room yearning for attention; until I could no longer resist the urge to rid myself of my guilty conscience. Having just finished "Sink Reflections" by Marcia Cilley aka Fly Lady; I had no excuse to do anything but start as I meant to go on. Hence the fact that the kitchen is now tidier than it has been for months.

What a shame my enthusiasm waned so quickley! With appointments in town, animals to be collected, a return to Scouting activities and over two hundred and fifty e-mails to attend to it is probably just as well that I started off so well as all of that has proved rather time consuming. Having said all of this, I have at least got two full loads of washing dry, one to hang out and another on its way; despite my renewed association with the dreaded PC I seem to achieved so much more in the past two days than I have for ages before we went off. It's strange how a change of scenery can make such a difference, isn't it?

BB spent yesterday working for his godmother. He was trimming hedges, cutting grass, tidying garages and sheds and planting trees for the afternoon which is far better than sitting on his behind playing with his beloved Nintendo DS. As he's on a break from working at GM's today; I persuaded him to mow his own lawns and the smell of freshly mown grass confirms that we are indeed home.

Ah, Home Sweet Home...

Bye for now,

Polly Peirce

1 comment:

Jean said...

You're home! Hurray! Too bad about the weather. I won't turn you green with envy by telling you how lovely it's been here...Suffice to say our grass in brown and doesn't need cutting! I'm glad you had a good time.