I mentioned the other day that we are currently having our bathroom done. Apart from small things like having a new carpet laid or getting the fence fixed this is the first time I have had lots of workmen in over a longish period of time. At last count we had had five different tradesmen here, all fantastic at their jobs and really pleasant to have around. I was a little disappointed though, that none of them has any form of sweetener in their hot drinks. There is very little comic mileage in "I'll 'ave a cup of Earl Grey love, no sugar".
I have also been pleasantly surprised at how little mess there is though it has been very noisy. Ronnie the cat has pretty much been living in the garden the past week, coming into the house only to grab a mouthful of food and take a quick glance at what the strange men are doing to his home. Rocket the hedgehog is also looking a bit shaky and is quite possibly now deaf as well as blind, bless him.
...and so, we are enjoying a quiet, workman free weekend. No drilling, no hammering and above all no having to listen to the tiler singing along with great enthusiasm but little musical skill to Kiss FM.
I am fed up with our 'pet' hedgehog Rocket making a massive mess in his cage by overturning his food and drink bowls. Earlier today I was in the supermarket with Bryn when I saw a great pet bowl which was quite inexpensive yet fairly heavy, meaning that my prickly friend would find it harder to trash the joint. The bowl was clearly designed with a feline theme and Bryn said "You can't get that for Rocket, it's meant for a cat."
"It's ok", I replied, "He won't know, he's blind."
Mmm, yes; if he could see then it might offend his sensitivities, being a hedgehog and all that, but as it is, we're OK!
I have just been cleaning out and feeding our rescue hedgehog Rocket, who lives in a big cage in the hall. This is a horrible job as he makes the most awful mess and I find myself scooping up a heady combination of food, water, poo and soggy newspaper. Rocket is definitely a teenage boy. He eats masses, grunts in reply to any attempt at conversation or physical contact and spends many hours in his bedroom making dubious noises and an unspeakable mess. A good friend recently commented that this was all good training for when Bryn reaches adolescence. I pointed out that I very much hoped that Bryn, at least, would not crap on his bedroom floor. Who knows?!
Rocket is a fairly intelligent little man, and I am currently teaching him to do his business either on George Osborne or Michael Gove. All copies of The Telegraph gratefully received; these may be used for training purposes.
