I love it when Grandchildren come to stay. The kitchen floor is festooned with cast-off rusks and biscuits and we position ourselves below the high chair for the best stuff.
Here's a picture of the three of us by Isobel, Drew's 6 year old Grandaughter.
She's captured all of us, including an uncanny likeness of Drew in the top right hand corner!
Mother-in-Law Stung Mothers-in-Law are a bit like Tibetan Terrierists, Economists or members of Pink Floyd. You should never leave two of them together in the same room for fear of major ructions occurring!
It's like "mater" and "anti-mater" should be kept in different dimensions of the time-space continuum otherwise they could go critical, and the last thing the world needs is critical mothers-in-law. I hope I'm not sounding like Bernard Manning.
Drew gailey ignored these crucial guidelines yesterday when he rashly visited his Mother (Mrs Rine's Mother-in-Law) accompanied by Mrs Rine's Mother (ie his Mother-in-Law). Are you still with me on this?
Fortunately nothing exploded and they actually got on like a couple of arsonists at a firework party.
And honestly, one section of the conversation went like this. (*Irony alert*)
MIL A: "I haven't got many friends now. To tell you the truth I think I'm a bit anti-social.
MIL B: "Really?! That's exactly the same with me!!!".
MILA: "It's SO nice to meet a fellow anti-social person!".
Sorry, I mixed up his photo with that other carnivorous marsupial from down-under, the Tasmanian Devil.
Oz isn't technically a Marsupial, but being pocket-sized he is attached to the genus Kazius Shortarsicus. Here he is after our early morning walk in the rain, looking as one would say in Scotland, fair drookit!.
The terrierist is actually very much pissed-off as well as pissed-on, because this was the sight that greeted him when he tore through the kitchen door yesterday. I'm sorry, but with my irresistable animal attraction I just can't help it....
Don't waste any sympathy on Oz though. He's back leading Lily on a charge into the garden every 15 minutes to bark at Terry's Labrador through the fence.
That little minx Lil seems to be attracted to any old arse as my final picture illustrates. Just wait till he gets off that laptop and I can tell you all about it!
Like the Deserts, Miss Lorraine
Mrs Rine has gone up North to do hands-on Grandma stuff!!!
She left on Saturday by Train and guess what she took with her? No, you won't guess. She only took the Tibetan Terriereist with her!!! Just because he sleeps in a suitcase (see webcam on right).
There have been some new pack dynamics around here with just me, the arse and the Lilster left looking at each other in an embarrassing way. I assumed Lily would, as the female alpha, start taking over from Mrs Rine and bossing us about, but it hasn't quite worked out like that.
You see, I think she's been missing the little bolshy short-arsed git.
I know, it doesn't make sense does it. She's like Amy with Blakey ink-arse-erated.
Colours
The nice thing about having Summer weather in May is that everything is bursting with Spring growth instead of being parched dry as it can be in July or August. That's when it isn't tipping down with rain in July and August of course.
May looks stunning around these parts!
There's browns and greens...
and greens and greens....
and....
uh-oh!....
....
yes, the YELLOW PERIL is back!
Fortunately this year we have some tonal contrast with the appearance of the GINGER PERIL aka the Lilster! (She has sneaked onto the computer and Photoshopped her lead off, which is the only way she's going to get lead-free at the moment I'm afraid.)
Countryside in Spring For those who may have missed last Friday's "News Quiz" on Radio Four, here is a cutting sent in from a Kid's Alphabet Quiz published recently on the side of a packet of Smarties:
My name is Mr Murph and I live in Norfolk, England with Oz the Tibetan Terrierist , Lily the young French Bassett (It takes all sorts), Biped Curmudgeon Drew (aka Mr P.) and the lovely Mrs Rine.
I'm a Labrador Collie Cross, although I am not cross but extremely mild mannered. Unless of course you are a rabbit. Or a Cat. Or a pheasant. Or Chris Evans