We had a lovely day out yesterday. It was lovely because after the rain the sun shone and I picked my aunt up from her residential home, collected my dad from his and off we went for a drive in the countryside. I'd been cleaning bricks earlier until enough was enough and since I'd got my car back from the garage and the day was good, it was just too much of a temptation.
Up we went into the Pennine hills, called at a quaint little pub and had lunch at 2pm. My aunt had lemonade, I had coffee and my dad half a pint of lager beer. We sat outside in the sun on a little bench with a small table just watching the world go by! The birds were singing, the trees had burst into life with blossom and greenery and the whole world looked fresh. The grass was dark green and the sky so blue you just wanted to soar. Days like this make you realise that life goes on no matter what and it's there for everyone to enjoy!
Back home the daunting task struck me as I entered through the door. No it wasn't some horrible nightmare, my wall was still down, my house unfinished and the pile of bricks I'd left before were still in an untidy pile full of mortar. Ah well! There goes reality.
Today would you believe, it's raining -- oh yes! But the birds are singing, the cockerels are crowing at each other, I wish they'd put a sock in it! 6.30am they started and then the geese joined in. Lucky hubby was up for work, if the alarm had not gone off it wouldn't have mattered anyway!
I've nothing planned for today except -- you've guessed it, bricks and rubble and high expectations. I won't need much persuasion to go out and with my daughter not at college today who knows? I can't see her helping me clean bricks or move any rubble, more like the TV music channels on full blast in the front room -- what kind of music is that any way? Bump, Bump, Bump! No melody and words which I can't understand. Am I getting old? What happened to tunes you could sing along to, that made you happy, made you want to get up and dance! Rap! they call it. I know now how my music must have sounded to my parents when they cringed and shuddered as I played my old vinyl 45s. I'm turning into my parents. Oh no!
Music to work to -- I think not. I'd be chiseling one hundred miles an hour to the beat of my daughter's preferred music. Give me Shalamar, the sound of new romantics, The 80s, David Bowie, and my daughter looks up and says--"Who? Oh Bingy Bongy stuff."
My music is turned low and being drowned by hi fidelity and heavy bass, Shalamar's Night To Remember sounding like a timid oversight and Spandau Ballet some old time sing along! The floors are vibrating. If I put the bricks close to the TV, the mortar will drop off by itself, and that's a good idea by all accounts.
Yes! I'm getting old and--- the beat goes on!