The Bird & The Birthday!

Hello everyone. I remembered after I posted my blog last time that I forgot to tell you about the bird. It happened the first Monday that Franki and Rys were home. I was up early and ready to leave for work when Franki came downstairs and said that something was scuttling about behind the wall in their bedroom. I went upstairs to have a listen. Sure enough, I could hear rustling and scratching noises coming from the old chimney stack in the corner of the room. This chimney once upon a time would have gone right through into the kitchen below when it was the original bakehouse. When it was converted into the kitchen whoever did it was lazy and didn’t remove the whole of the chimney stack. Instead, they removed only the portion in the kitchen and blocked it off at floor level in the bedroom.

The noises were coming from inside the chimney. I was panicking that it might be mice. So did not want an infestation of rodents in the house. There was a loose board covering the bottom of the stack, so we shone a light in and saw that it was a bird of some kind. It had fallen down the chimney and was flapping around in panic trying to get out. The stack wasn’t wide enough though for it to open its wings properly and fly back up.

A hammer and screwdriver were fetched and at that point, I went to work. Twenty minutes later my phone buzzed, and a picture of a rather stressed-looking pigeon dropped into my inbox. A second later it was followed by a picture of another pigeon that hadn’t been so lucky. They threw the pigeon out of the window, and it flew away, so clearly hadn’t sustained any major injuries to its wings.

The chimney also survived the experience.

What else has happened? Well, I’ve been very busy at work with overtime and working a Saturday. My boss moved house, so I had to relocate almost thirty appointments elsewhere. Although I managed to fill gaps where people had cancelled appointments, we still had to open from 8am to midday on Saturday to accommodate the rest. It made me appreciate how much I love having my weekends off now. When I was employed by the bed store I worked almost every weekend. At the time I just accepted it, but looking back I realise how much I resented it.

The overtime is at an end for now and I will appreciate the extra pay at the end of the month, but it will be nice to go back to my regular hours. I feel since they came home three weeks ago, I’ve done nothing but rush around — I’ve certainly done nothing but laundry! Honestly, I do not understand how two people can generate so much dirty laundry. I’m washing stuff I never see them wear. Normally the washing machine goes on a couple of times a week, it’s now going on almost every day!

I’ve had no time to write anything and my current work in progress is still sitting at the 30,000 words mark. I might get a chance to add to it this summer, but with the speed with which it’s flying past, I probably won’t.

The main thing that has happened since we last spoke is my birthday. Yep, I’ve now reached Level 57 of this game we call life.

I placed an order for at least two days of nice weather ages ago, but as the days ticked by with each one being more cold and wet than the one before, I despaired a little that my order would arrive. My birthday was on a Wednesday this year, luckily the day that the practice isn’t open. I was originally down to work overtime the two days after it, but then the lady I job-share with decided she would be returning from holiday a couple of days earlier than planned so I was off the hook. Traditionally, I go to lunch with whichever of my friends are available and regular readers will remember how last year we were washed out by rain of biblical proportions when we attempted to watch Shakespeare in the local park. I did not want a repeat performance.

A few weeks ago, I sent messages to all my friends. Were they available for lunch on the 18^th? They are all busy people with busy lives so I was anticipating that at least one of them wouldn’t be able to make it but to my utter joy, they could all come. I booked a table at a local restaurant.

Anxiously, I watched the weather forecast. Wednesday was going to be a day of celebration with my family and the next day was reserved for friends. Monday and Tuesday were awful. Intermittent and persistent rain showers with temperatures barely making it to double digits. Have faith, the long-range weather forecast promised, better weather is coming. I crossed my fingers and hoped.

The day of my birthday dawned sunny and bright. The temperature climbed to the mid-20s which was perfect. Balmy and warm enough to wear summer clothes but not so hot that you want to peel your skin off.

Franki had to work that day, so I was treated to brunch in a local restaurant before their shift began at 11.30. Then Rys and I walked through the park to pick up my spare key from the garage — the plastic buttons had fallen out of it, so they had sent it away to be repaired for me. On the way home we did a little shopping and then we went to the cinema. We went to see Inside Out 2 which was fun and entertaining. Being the middle of a working day and because the schools hadn’t yet broken up for the summer, the cinema was practically empty other than a couple of mums with a gaggle of very young, but surprisingly quiet and well-behaved children, and four teenagers.

Our seats were at the top of the aisle on the back row. The teenagers were sitting two each at either end of the same row. The ads were running when we sat down. One of the teenagers — a girl wearing a worryingly short skirt — got up and pushed past us to go and talk to the teenagers sitting at the other end of the row. Obligingly, we pulled our feet in. And then again when she went back to her seat. A minute later, she was up again and left the cinema. We pulled in our feet. A moment later, the boy she’d been sitting next to got up and stomped down the row. We pulled in our feet. He went and sat with the other two. Short skirt girl came back and went to talk to the three others. I hoped they would all stay there. Nope. They both stomped back down the row to their original seats. We pulled our feet in.

This happened repeatedly as they got up and traded ends, left the cinema, came back, and swapped ends again. In the end, we were both seriously ticked off by this and I felt like screaming just pick a bloody side at them.

The film was about to start, and we decided to shift forward a row. If they were planning on doing this all through the movie then we felt it was best that we removed ourselves from their flightpath. Halfway through the film, they all got up and left. Umm. Okay. Not sure what that was all about.

When the film ended, we walked to the bar where Franki had managed to get temporary employment and sat and had a cocktail waiting for them to finish their shift. Back home, there was just time for a quick freshen-up before my parents arrived and we all went for an early dinner.

And that was my birthday.

The next day I was up early and tidying up the garden in anticipation of being able to sit outside and have drinks. The weather was perfect, even hotter than the day before, and the garden was a cool and shady oasis. We cleaned the bird poop off the chairs and washed down the table. My cherry tree came into fruit a couple of weeks ago. The tree in general didn’t look healthy, there was sticky sap oozing from the bark and the leaves were yellow or spotty. As I was picking the cherries I thought that they didn’t look appetising, and they were covered in little white dots. I took the bowl inside and filled it with water and watched to see if my suspicions were correct. Sure enough, a few minutes later tons of tiny white worms wiggled out of the cherries and swam to the surface of the water. I Googled it. Turns out my tree is not the only one infested with these disgusting worms. They are the larvae of a new species of predatory fly that invaded the UK a couple of years ago. They are devastating our cherry trees and have no natural predators here. I looked to see how to get rid of them. I can’t unless I wish to use industrial-grade pesticides that will kill all the other insects in my garden. I don’t want to do that. Reluctantly, I’ve decided that the tree needs to go. It is a shame, but on the bright side, it will mean I can grow more plants and flowers in that bed. I also won’t have purple bird poo splattered everywhere each time the cherries are out. No more playing Russian Roulette every time I hang my washing out. The line runs under the cherry tree and the number of times I’ve gone to get it in to find it covered with nasty offerings from the birds.

I won’t be able to make cherry vodka anymore — although my mum’s freezer is full of cherries from last year’s harvest so I’ll be good for this year — but I can make flavoured vodka from anything.

Once the garden was fit to receive guests, I dashed out to grab coffee and pastries for us all for breakfast. The first of my friends wasn’t arriving until 11:30 so I took my time getting ready as it got steadily hotter. I had changed my booking at the restaurant from an indoor table to an outdoor one, but I’ve eaten in the garden of this restaurant before and knew it was shaded by a large awning. Two of my friends were meeting us there and were waiting when the rest of us — already a couple of glasses of prosecco to the wind — rocked up.

It was a lovely meal. We all chatted and laughed and told stories and it was just amazing. The ages ranged from 29 to 57 but everyone got along wonderfully. I had whitebait, steak, and then a great cheeseboard. We got through a couple of bottles of rose between the four drinkers and a glass of port each. We didn’t leave the restaurant until gone four and wandered back to mine to sit in the garden and have more prosecco.

I should have a hangover, but I don’t, which is weird because I certainly deserve one.

My last guests went home at almost midnight, and I fell into bed and slept until six. I should feel tired, but I don’t. Maybe it will all hit me later.

A couple of weeks ago, I had a weird text from the NHS telling me to schedule a blood test for my drug assessment. Drugs? Did they think I was snorting coke or something? Deciding it was more likely something to do with my thyroid medication, I kept meaning to sort it out, but I was working all the time and even when I wasn’t, I was busy. Then I had a missed call from my doctor’s surgery on my birthday. They left a voicemail advising me to contact them asap. I phoned them yesterday. It is to do with my thyroid medication. Book a blood test, I was told, we need to check it’s doing what it should. Franki went onto the online booking service for me and managed to get me the last appointment left for today. I’m at an event all weekend and then back to work Monday so I wanted to get it done sooner rather than later. I’m booked in for 12:20 and will walk to the hospital. It’s a gentle twenty-minute stroll away and trying to find a parking space at the hospital is a frustrating, stressful and expensive procedure, I’d rather walk. I’ve had so many blood tests now that they hold no fear. I can come back via Waitrose, pick up yet more shopping, and get myself a free coffee as a reward.

As I said, this weekend I am at the CapCon Summer of Love Festival at Trinity Park in Ipswich. It looks like being an amazing event so if you’re in the area why not come along and say hello? There’s a whole host of events and attractions with something to please everyone. The weather is also looking wonderful.

I’ve packed all my books ready but as I will be gone for both days, I have chores that must be sorted today — including writing my blog.

That’s why I’m afraid it’s not such a long blog this week. As usual, I have a book sale running and this week it’s for Rambling Rose, the epic conclusion to the Perennials Trilogy. This chunky read can be yours as an eBook for half price and there’s even a couple of bucks off the paperback. There’s a universal purchase link on the books page and the sale will run until midnight on Friday the 26^th of July.

And that’s it. Until next time, take care and I look forward to chatting with you again.

Julia Blake