My shredder and I have a lot in common. You could say we are kindred spirits.
You see what I mean - my shredder works really, really hard doing what it does best - as
in, shredding - then, every so often it over-heats and has to take a well-earned rest. So very like me. I usually accompany my enforced rest with a cup of coffee but the shredder needs nothing but time. Once it has cooled down, off it goes again until next
My Shredding Activity is the latest step in my move to bring order to our paperwork which, as regular readers will recall, was the subject of a previous blog. As a result of that I received lots of excellent
advice from friends and blog readers keen to help me out. My thanks to one and all. I have tried to adopt a variety of remedies suggested, adopting a kind of Pick 'n' Mix approach which may or may not work. Time will undoubtedly tell.
The fact remains that, as I approach the end of my task, there is a small mountain of papers to be shredded. I had hoped this might be a job for Mr B but cricket enthusiasts will have noted that England are doing rather well in the
latest Test Match against the Aussies. Wickets are falling, catches are being taken and runs are being scored - Mr B does not intend to miss a minute of play if he can help it. He did, to be fair, enjoy a lovely lunch out with our friends Roland and Shirley
- but let's face it, that was pure pleasure. Shredding simply cannot match up.
I always find it really difficult to leave a task half-way through. So here I am persevering with the shredding while knowing
that another Pressing Task is upon me, namely de-Farising the house. Yes, indeed, the Rampaging Rascal and the Twinkles will be arriving tomorrow, lured by the promise of sunshine. The Middle of the Darling Daughters says she will try to arrive a little earlier
than usual so that we can take a picnic down to the beach. She is thinking egg rolls, I can tell.
Young Faris's favourite video clip from our lovely holiday in Alicante (Ally Canty) is simply entitled "Egg
Roll." It depicts me trying to lift an egg roll to my lips while Tala, Elder of the Twinkles, attempts to snatch it from me. Apparently Faris will watch this over and over again. I am almost as popular as Despicable Me.
My daughter always laughs at me when I say I have De-Farised the house. A quick scan of the place shows her immediately that I have signally failed to move everything remotely precious and / or breakable out of the Rascal's Reach. I keep forgetting
that he is growing taller so what was once out of reach is now nothing like as inaccessible as I thought it. I also have to remember that the Rascal is arguably the strongest toddler on two legs. He thinks nothing of dismantling the stone bird bath or the
sundial, heavy though they are. Nothing in house or garden is safe when the Rascal is on the Rampage.
I can't leave this until tomorrow morning, there simply won't be time. I am torn between finishing the
shredding (three more sessions should be enough - but one has to take account of Time Out for rest) and starting Rascal Removals. Mr B reminds me that the Great British Menu is on TV this evening. I need to have done whatever I am doing by then so that we
can sit down companionably to watch who wins the Scottish round. He doesn't want me prowling around moving photograph frames from window-sills during Telly Time.
So I move the three jazz band figures
- a 50th birthday gift from my Foursome, how long ago?! - from the hearth and hide them behind the television. The double bass player has lost a couple of fingers from a Previous Encounter with Faris but unless you look really closely you wouldn't notice.
I push the sofa and armchairs against the DVD racks - Faris loves DVDs. The windowsills are now empty save for a wooden jigsaw I picked up yesterday from the Samaritans charity shop.
I survey the living room
and feel pleased with my endeavours. At this rate I will be able to get back to my shredding. Then I remember ...
Since their last visit, the eight month old Twinkles are on the move. They may not be the fastest
babies on hands and knees but few would beat them for inquisitiveness. My ploy of pushing various items - my knitting bag, the laptop and Books One and Two of How To Be A Gardener by Alan Titchmarsh - under the display units on the basis that Faris is not
likely to get down on his hands and knees to investigate thereunder is about to be rumbled.
Never mind the Rampaging Rascal - the Twinkles are On The Prowl. Exploration at ground level. What fun!
Mr B is not so sure. He reckons that by the end of the day his nerves will be well and truly shredded...