Domestic Bliss

Rosemary is here for the weekend. It started off a bit frantic as her brother and sister-in-law were coming over with their newly(ish) born baby and I was acting like a posh Scottish housewife before her cleaner came. Little did I know of the carnage that would negate my efforts.

To start the day we cycled over to Marple through a big cloud, to do the church of Parkrun. Everyone is just so evangelically friendly here. They are so encouraging, regardless of running ability. I struggle, preferring to shout "man up, run bloody faster and get training" at those in the 35min for 5km region.

Rosemary had been told to "build" through the run by her coach so I managed to stay ahead of her until the half-way point. When eventually being caught, she decided to run on my heels. Literally! Two swipes followed, with intent to sending me flying. I remained upright. She finished 15 seconds ahead in the end. Most people were saying it was about 40secs slower this week because of the mud. I was, therefore, happy with my time.

We stopped off at Libby's to get some bread and cakes and then headed home in the torrential rain. It was actually fun, even though we got soaked to the skin. Such things are ok when rather fine patisserie awaits. The lemon tart had amazing custard but a slightly soggy bottom. The fig and blueberry one was baked to perfection. I am obviously an expert after watching the Great British Bake-off. The result was a personal disappointment to me though as cake is not about excess embellishment in my humble opinion.

Mike, Sarah and the Sprog arrived just after mid-day and the baby talk began. Babies are like football. People talk about them infinitely even when nothing of importance happens. In-depth analyses is required after each dribble of baby sick. Rosemary had a saying "hello" talking spam put on her, with a 10p fine being administered every time she used the word. She started saying "bonjour" to the little petal!

I went to meet Rosemary's dad from the station, recognising him instantaneously as he disembarked. Must be his outfit. Options for lunch included the garden centre cafe or the wee place up the hill. The cafe won, so we all trundled down the hill for an afternoon nose bag. Highlight for me was putting baby Ethan on my shoulder to pretend he was a parrot. "Pieces of eight, pieces of eight, squack" I cried. Strangely, everyone looked at me strangely.

Rosemary had started the weekend going on about the DIY jobs that needed done. I am rubbish at such things, so the Byde clan got to it, sorting my lighting. Weirdly, it transpired that the kitchen light malfunctions were due to the bulbs, rather than anything more drastic...... The bathroom needed a new fitting, thus the carnage began. Most people would just switch off the power, but John wanted to isolate the correct fuse. His face suggested that my electrics were more antiquated than he. Orders for bits of paper, screwdrivers, drill heads and so on came in a constant stream. My stress levels increased exponentially.

No drill head was found so a quick trip to the hardware shop was required. Once home, Michael got busy drilling....with plaster dust filling my recently tidied bathroom. The kitchen was scattered with stuff and it was all becoming too much. Sarah looked at me empathetically, recalling how a slightly malfunctioning door in her house was taken off the hinges, planed down and then re-hung in similar circumstances.

Then Michael decided that he and Sarah had to go home, and left John and Rosemary to finish fitting the light. I was relieved to hear R squeak with delight when the thing illuminated. Although very grateful, I was relieved when we saw John off at the train station and had the house to ourselves. Still, it's nice to be a satellite of R's rather idiosyncratic family.