The revenge of the barn
I was finally starting to feel ok after my op, and had been out for my first run. We then ordered a skip so we could clear the rubble of ages out of the barn (and we had a lot of rubble - we are terrors for hanging on to odd bits of wood just in case. This is all very well, and we have occasionally used bits, and the chicken wire store came in very handy when the chickens arrived, but even we realise that you can go too far.)
So, we ruthlessly hurled all sorts of odd bits and pieces on to the skip - well, when I say hurled, with the price of skips these days we arranged carefully making the best use of the horribly expensive space - until we came to a particularly hideous, battered but solid 1930s mahogany sideboard. I have had this horror in my sights for years, and had meant to arm son and friends with crowbars and let them get on with it, but of course had not got round to it. Husband, although not fond of the foul sideboard, felt it had a future.
We discussed this, as you do, and he eventually saw the force of my argument. He chopped, and I happily trotted backwards and forwards with the bits. All was going well, and the sideboard was virtually dead, when I spotted a bit of wood on the far wall I'd meant to put in the skip but forgotten.
On my way back up the barn, I trod on something which whirred and went flying. I landed on my left knee, which was not too clever to start with after a horse I was looking after trod on it a few years ago, and there I was. Or rather, wasn't. So that's why I've been silent, and the books have been offline. The books live on two different floors, and the office is on another, and stairs are not my best thing at the moment. Neither is sitting, which rather put the kybosh on computing, but I can now sit long enough to do some things, so am back. Sort of.
The good thing is that I have been able to catch up with my reading, so hope I'll have a bit more to say about that in future posts.
I could swear though, as I hobbled out of the barn, that the sideboard, in its ruins, was grinning a smug and satisfied grin.
So, we ruthlessly hurled all sorts of odd bits and pieces on to the skip - well, when I say hurled, with the price of skips these days we arranged carefully making the best use of the horribly expensive space - until we came to a particularly hideous, battered but solid 1930s mahogany sideboard. I have had this horror in my sights for years, and had meant to arm son and friends with crowbars and let them get on with it, but of course had not got round to it. Husband, although not fond of the foul sideboard, felt it had a future.
We discussed this, as you do, and he eventually saw the force of my argument. He chopped, and I happily trotted backwards and forwards with the bits. All was going well, and the sideboard was virtually dead, when I spotted a bit of wood on the far wall I'd meant to put in the skip but forgotten.
On my way back up the barn, I trod on something which whirred and went flying. I landed on my left knee, which was not too clever to start with after a horse I was looking after trod on it a few years ago, and there I was. Or rather, wasn't. So that's why I've been silent, and the books have been offline. The books live on two different floors, and the office is on another, and stairs are not my best thing at the moment. Neither is sitting, which rather put the kybosh on computing, but I can now sit long enough to do some things, so am back. Sort of.
The good thing is that I have been able to catch up with my reading, so hope I'll have a bit more to say about that in future posts.
I could swear though, as I hobbled out of the barn, that the sideboard, in its ruins, was grinning a smug and satisfied grin.
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