Moving at the speed of life

Said I, trying to persaude Bob that his DIY skills are up to installing a new kitchen. We went to Ikea this evening, and I realised that if he did the work, we could spend about 75% less than the quoted prices.

None of the plumbers have even bothered to quote for a boiler, and the Gas Board quote arrived today  – nearly 5K for a straight replacement – ie, not even a combi. I felt sick. We are still hoping that a local plumber will quote for fitting, as the boiler itself to buy is ony about 700. I waited in all day today for a promised visit from a plumber, but he didn’t show.

Anyway, as it was warmer out than in, we’ve spent the weekend getting the garden settled down for winter, and this evening we were all so fed up, we took Hannah to Xsape to play on the climbing wall and skyway, while Bob and I visited Ikea and drank hot chocolate.

And to crown it off yesterday, the bloody puppy just about got herself killed. Bob was weeding a border at the front, the dog was lying beside him, and a car shot into our turning circle place (we are the second last house in a dead end), and Maisie shot out to see him off the premises. He struck her a glancing blow to the shoulder, and she sort of bounced. The driver didn’t even realised he had hit her (well, I’m giving hhim the benefit of the doubt on that one, he just sped off). She seemed fine, both Bob and I were really upset though, and Hannah was inconsolable. Bob and I spent all night taking it in turns to get up and shine lights into her eyes and ask her who the prime minister is. She seems none the worse for it today, but the rest of us are still shaky. I wish they put speed bumps in that road though.

So holiday weekend over, back to work for  Bob tomorrow, Maisie is getting a hair cut, and we are waiting yet again for a plumber.

When I haven’t been distracting myself with comping, we’ve been enduring visits from plumbers, joiners, electricans and sundry other tradesmen who can’t actually help me for months. I foolishly registered on a “get a local quote website”, and had 87 phone calls in two hours. Not that its moved us further forward

We had a kitchen designer in this morning, he was here for hours, but he did in the end suggest a design I liked at a price that I could live with. And then he lost the sale when he had a major strop and sulk as I wouldn’t sign there and then. He wanted 25% deposit today, and was not at all amused when I said I wanted a few days to think about it, as he was a) the first quote we’d had b) there was no way I could hand over a cheque for that amount and expect the bank not to have a breakdown c) post-dating it till Monday to allow us to transfer money today was not the answer either. The money wasn’t even going to be bonded in any way, there was no way I was parting with it. He also annoyed Bob as he had told us at the begining that there was no bargaining, no special offers, he would give us the best price he could, and that would be a final one. Which was fair enough with us, but then to try and beat us into signing today, he then started to knock money off “just for today” which THEN made us feel that he hadn’t actually offered us the best deal. So bored with it already. And the plumber says that all the new carpets etc are going to have to be lifted, which is also pissing me off.

Anyway. Hannah asked me last night if she could have her ears peirced. She’s been thinking about it for a while, but suddenly decided. Bob was duly persauded, and off we went this afternoon. I REALLY wished she hadn’t wanted it done, but I’m hardly a role model for saying no. And then I’m embarrassed to say that even though I have held Hannah’s hand through all sorts of vile proceedures, this one really upset me, and I thought I was going to be sick, and had to walk away and leave her. Anyway, her ears aren’t even red, and she said it didn’t hurt at all. I seem to remember mine bleeding and being scarlet for days.

And now Bob is teaching her how to make chicken fafitas from scratch, so I’m drinking wine and looking forward to a nice dinner.

OK, google has let me down, but i’m sure bloggers won’t

I have 30 cryptic clues here, and I’ve got 26 of them, the last 4 have me beat. The answer will be a tree -from anywhere in the world. So, that 4 I can’t get are:

1. This is associated with coffins (and we’ve used oak and pine for other answers, and I’m sure they are right)
2. This could provide your doormat (I’ve been looking all day to see if there was such a thing as a hessian tree, but can’t find one)
3. An assignation
4. A fine wood for furniture

All suggestions gratefully recieved. There is a few bags of garden manure at stake here!

Not. On Thursday Scottish Gas knocked on the door to say they were in the area, and could they do our annual central heating service. 10 minutes later the boiler had been condemned and disconnected, as the part it needed (even though it was still working fine) was no longer a stock item. Have had a couple of quotes, and it looks as if we will be lucky to get away with 4K. As the entire system is 30 years old, apparently if we put a new boiler on the old system, it will just seize up with crud. I wish I’d told them it wasn’t convenient. Also, it look as if the new boiler won’t fit into the space of the old one (when they get round to fitting it, estimated as 15 December!!), so the kitchen which already was fairly dubious (and 30 years old) is also going to have to be dismantled. So probably looking at a new kitchen and central heating system, at a conservative estimate of £12K. FUCK. OK, it was hideous 70s pine, but you know what, it all worked, but I just don’t think I can live with holes in the wall forever.

Meanwhile we have no heating, and no hot water. We’ve got an electrician coming to put an immersion heater in the tank tomorrow, to get us to the end of the year, and we are hoping it won’t get too cold before then. And while neither of us had central heating till we were 30, we also had homes with alternative forms of heating, aka coal fire and back boiler. Central heating IS the only heating now. Sigh. I hate that we don’t have it, and I despise myself for minding

Hannah and I spent the weekend at my mum’s, while I went to the Schoolhouse conference, and listened to John Taylor Gatto. And as a huge plus, hot showers on tap . Meanwhile, Hannah has been busy doing French, training the puppy (who ate a tube of green glitter on Wednesday – NICE craps), and generally alternating between totally lovely and hormonal monster.

Tomorrow I’m back at work after a week off, and even though I do love my new job, being at home without it is actually rather lovely. Gearing up for the autumn courses, which have a reasonable number booked.

Half term holiday weekend this weekend, so still experiencing the novelty of Bob having public holidays off. We had planned to go away in the caravan, but I think we may just sort the garden, go to the pictures, and chill out.

Just saw my first xmas tree, ffs!!

She won the nationals Got her moment of glory on the podium, shook hands beautifully with silver and bronze without being reminded, and has brought home her first (rather large!) trophy. I looked at her today, absolutely bursting with health and vitality on that damn podium, and thought of every dice that has been stacked against her making it, and I wept Maybe our lovely paed is right, and there is indeed “another c word, and that word is cure”.

She was about 20 cms short of her pb, although 80 cms ahead of the silver, and the judge said over the tannoy “an outstanding throw from a girl we’ll be seeing more of.” And while its not her winning that matters to me, its all the rest – the practice, the committment, and just the sheer HEALTH of her that blows me away. Oh dear. Sniffle. I love, love, love that child SO much, and I never dared hope we would see something like this.

When we started HE we felt odd when everyone else we knew who we’d been through the first 5 years with went off to school, and now its happening again, in that the few children we knew here who were HE’ed for primary school, plus a lot of the online people we’ve grown through HE with have gone to secondary school, and I feel a  bit like we are walking that road less travelled again. Most of the online people we know have probably followed their children’s choices in this, as have we, opting for the other option, but most of the IRL people have made the choice as they feel they can’t support their children through secondary education, and one even said to me yesterday “they can afford to play till 11, but then you really can’t take any chances, can you – you’ve got to hand it over to the professionals”.

Which has left me slightly panic striken really. Bob would do school in a minute, although he excepts that Hannah wouldn’t go for it, and so does support her in not going. But I know he is finding it increasingly hard to front this weird decision, and I just….. worry.

Anyhow, Hannah is now at no 5 in the Scottish rankings, with her final big day tomorrow. She’s very nervous, I think, and we are heading off in half an hour, rather than get up at 5am. The Spanish teacher was lovely. Hannah fell in love with her. Today we realised that her guide uniform didn’t fit AT ALL, so had to go to Glasgow to get a new one-  the biggest they do, and then we realised that the sole of the trainers she got in the States had split, so she needed another paid of those, as well.

Have started a mammoth clear out of her book cases – I’m going to an HE conference on Friday, so will probably take them to see in anyone wants them for a donation to charity, two boxes already, and still haven’t tackled the playroom. One thing that WOULD be nice about no HE, would be a remarkable reducation in stuff!!

Hannah had a great two weeks, and wants to do it again. No phone calls or postcards or anything from the duration. Bob and I had a good time, but it rained every day except one. My walking boots sprang a leak (they ARE ancient), and Hannah had my other pair at MOTB, so we bought more, plus gortex trousers, and just got on with it really. Maisie was great, and we saw Chris and Alison and co, which was lovely. (and it didn’t rain till 7pm that day, so we really had two non-raining days, I guess. )

I flew home as planned, and did the exhibition, which went well, and then I did something to my congentally dislocated hip, which has had me investing a fortune at the osteopath and swigging codiene. Hip replacement on the cards within the next 5 years, which is about 20 years later than predicted, but still not a thought I am relishing.

Have found a lovely modern languages teacher for Hannah. A 22 year old Spanish woman with a French mother, (although it may be the other way about). Anyway, Hannah really likes her, and she totally gets HE. Hannah has been asking for language lessons for ages, and we’d really exhausted the extent to which I could help her, so very pleased about that. She has also added violin to her music lessons (all organised without me having to be involved at all. Well apart from paying!). She won the a regional event at shot putt on Saturday, so she is chuffed about that, even though she couldn’t get a medal, as she was a guest thrower. Haven’t looked yet, but it should have put her up the Scottish rankings considerably.

She chose a pile of books she wanted from Galore Park, and she is working on these. I think its still autonomous if they chose it themselves   it feels odd to think she would now be at high school – the day wasn’t even marked, as she was at MOTB, but it felt significant, and she said she was up a hillside at the time, covered in mud, suddenly realised she would be starting back at school, and was happy she wasn’t. I never thought we would HE so long, and now I wouldn’t be surprised if it was forever.

I feel so proud of her that she is growing into such a lovely and independent young woman.