Oct 21, 2006

Thunderbolts and Lightning; Tiny Finds it Frightening

My glee it being awoken at five this morning by the dogs was beyond measure. We had hoped that buying them doggy beds similar to the ones we had in sunny Ipswich might have solved the problem we've been having but may not have mentioned here with Tiny in particular getting up in the night and scratching at the door (which is a sliding door on that room) until she manages to get it open - then the dogs swarm onto our bed. Generally around three in the morning we can't be bothered to do anything about it.

Nicole's first night shift was the test and they went through most of the night but go out quite early - I'm not sure of the time.

This morning Tiny was scratching at five am so I went and remonstrated with her firmly, and as I was as parched as a parched thing I went for a glass of water. A few clinks and a splosh later, monkeynuts was awake. Deep joy.

Nicole got back around 8am, and I had been up for three hours already. We had had three breakfasts by then and individuals were getting impatient to go out. This as usual was signalled by sitting in the pram and moving around the baby rucksack, along with meaningful stares.

So out we went and up the Kedron Brook. For a laugh I though I would let E roam free and no sooner was she out of the bag, as it were, than she was making a beeline for a playground just over the brow of the slope to our left.

So the poor doggies got tied up to a post while the munchkin slid her little heart out, swung for England, and wobbled herself into a playground frenzy. Then it started to rain, requiring an orderly withdrawal back to Agincourt Street via a flock of ducks inconsiderately waddling across the path - which Matilda seemed to enjoy in a shrill, anxious, "Let me at them" kind of way. Irritatingly the rain stopped shortly thereafter, and we hardly even got wet, but we were committed, and the skies looked sort of morose and vaguely, damply, limply threatening.

Back at the gaff we had a fourth breakfast, or what you might call an early elevenses, around 9.30 and the batteries gave out around 10am.

I retired to the al fresco reading area and the sun came out so it was only right that I should retire further to the hammock, there to read my current library book "The Eighth Day" which is a slightly silly rompy thriller thing (not that kind of romp).

Tiny joined me after a while. You wouldn't believe that a gangly dog like that could get into a hammock, let alone be actually keen to do so, but as you can see we have photographic proof.

After a while I started to sense the dangerous onset of slumber so in the spirit of sun safety I attended to a few chores until Squeaky woke up around twelve.

Nicole was duly awakened and pasta, pesto and salad made for quite a pleasant lunch. I even guessed approximately how to make a salad dressing. You might be proud if you were that way inclined.

We jiggled around in the afternoon - went to another playground, visited a "child-friendly" cafe in Ashgrove, collared a helium balloon - result... then went to Homezone to do some shopping and get the dog's nails trimmed.

The dog's nails for previously unannounced scheduling reasons was not performed. However a bank of cloud was hovering ominously to the South, and it seemed to take up half the sky. "Shall we walk the dogs then" said Nicole. "No" said I.

Back at the house we compromised. In the sense that I gave in. The advocated strategy was that we would get on our bikes (no, really) with Eloise on the back of mine. Nicole would take the dogs on the leads and we would cycle down to the Brook and a good time would be had by all. I suggested, and here is where the compromise comes in, that it's bad enough riding with one dog on a lead let alone two dogs, both of which are indecently interested in ducks, especially those that waddle over paths, and ibises which are a new kind of bird in our little canine world, and well worthy of a chase. So I would take Tiny and Nicole would stick with Matilda.

So out the bikes came. The sky was three-quarters ominous now, by the way.

As we got on the bikes and opened the front gate, the first rumble of thunder ooyahed out of the bank of clouds. The odd spot of rain was felt. "This is barking mad" I said, "it'll start really raining in five minutes."

Nicole insisted, and I can't quote verbatim, that that was an incorrect assumption, and that we should press on regardless. If I could raise only one eyebrow, I would have done. So we set off instead.

I heard a call from behind us. It was a neighbour from across the road. "You do realise there's a storm coming don't you? There's a cell rotating to the west and it's going to hit real soon." Feeling the start of what I hoped might be a protacted period of smugness I said "Oh yes, we know, we're only going round the block."

Kedron Brook safely aborted, with its ducks and ibises, we rode around Agincourt Street and did a two minute circuit and came safely home. The intensity of the rain built up considerably as we rode round.

"You were wrong anyway," Nicole said, "the rain started only two minutes after the first thunder." She so hates when I'm right. Need I say more? Anyone for a sentence with the word "always" in it?

Nicole then proceeded observe the storm as the lightning began and the thunder rolled around the sky above us. The heavens opened.

The metal roof on the house made it sound worse - or is that better - than it probably really was, and Eloise and Nicole frolicked around, Nicole putting out plants for natural water and generally getting very excited. Both were drenched with a few minutes. For me, discretion was the better part.

The dogs of course hated it. Tiny particularly hates unexplained outside noise, and thunderbolts and lightning is up there with fireworks.

So it was a bad dog day really. Never mind eh, it turned out to be a good day for being smug.

2 comments:

  1. Anonymous9:52 PM

    Hi Neil and Nicole
    I've just discovered your blog and the way you write reminds me of our new neighbours Matt and Vera who also emigrated from the Northern Hemisphere but - in their case - to our street in New Zealand. Matt is British, and a writer, and he introduced me to blogging. So, I'm glad I found you through him. All the best with keeping the dogs out of bed! My daughter is now 8 and I have finally managed to keep her out of our bed for the most part.

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  2. Thanks for your kind words of support, word imp. My word of the day is "shadesail." Eloise's word of the day is "Noingnoing."

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