This post actually started on Wednesday night and has been done in disjointed sections. It’s a bit like my brain at the mo – disjointed sections.
It’s ok. It’s not the big brother house but it is 3 a.m. So.
Where am I at such an ungodly hour? Answers on a postcard please. The best answer will win a snort of approval from me.
Where am I really?
I’m at the emergency vets with Douggie the doggie. Here he is drugged and dripped.
It’s been a funny, and by funny I mean strange, week. After all these weeks we have a viewer for our house … What? Tell you about Douggie? I will. All in good time, dear reader.
Obviously this viewer could only come in the most inconvenient time possible. Friday. Exactly when I am cooking for 50 people who are turning up from all corners if the British Isles to help us celebrate Boofuls’ 60th birthday. It’s a good job dawn cracks about 3.30 at this time year because that’s when I’ll need to get up to get everything done.
Just to throw a couple more spanners in the works. The tiler didn’t turn up till today and only did half the job and the builder didn’t show up at all. Git.
The outside privy isn’t working and we have one loo to service 50 people. No pressure. I fuckin’ love life.
Back to Douggie:
First thing this morning Douggie threw up. In an attempt to stop the vom hitting the carpet I caught it in my nightie. Ew. Douggie continued to throw up all day becoming worse as the day wore on.
We took him to the vet who drugged him with some hefty drugs, to no avail. He continued to deteriorate.
At the point when he couldn’t lie down because of the pain and he was becoming confused due to dehydration I decided at 1a.m. to phone the emergency vets – and here I am. This is one poorly doggie.
Fast forward to today.
Douggie is almost back to normal after being on a drip for two days and having massive amounts of drugs. The exact cause of his illness wasn’t established despite many blood tests and x rays and £1000+.
Best guesses are pancreatitis, gastroenteritis and poisoning.
We picked him up from the vet’s on Friday.
Remember I mentioned Friday?
Ah yes, Friday.
The day of Boofuls’ birthday. The day of Boofuls’ party. The day we had viewers for the house and the day I had to cater for many people and prepare for a massive party. The day that some of the guests turned up mighty early. The day my brother decided to drop by.The day the weather that had been glorious for weeks decide to change and deliver many weeks worth of howling wind and rain all at once.
The day I was tearing my hair out.
The only possible course of action was to get my head down and keep paddling.
The poor dog could really have down without a massive party, I’m sure his attitude to it was the same as mine, that he really wished it wasn’t happening – but it was, so get on with it.
You know what?
It was alright.
It was better than alright, it was brilliant. Guests were told not to feed the dog. We had decorated the barn with fairy lights and chinese lanterns and it looked lovely. The plus side of that was that the house was kept relatively quite. We put up a canopy outside so there was shelter for the smokers and it was all really nice.
I’d very cleverly prepared food that didn’t require too much attention. Two potato and meat pies, one butter pie, a chilli, a chicken curry, a cheese platter, a large joint of beef cooked beautifully rare and some other bits and pieces. Lashes, Gembolina, Len’s mum and Big Marge all brought stuff as well and The Rev made a fantastic birthday cake. Winklepop made a point of looking after Douggie for me.
All in all it was a successful night and we didn’t get to bed till 3.00a.m. Just before we set off to bed Boofuls decided to have his final fag. Now stop it you Americans!! Fag means cigarette in Blighty.
I was tidying the kitchen when suddenly I heard a howl from outside. “Oh no!!!” The canopy had finally given up the ghost and collapsed, depositing all the rain collected on top of it – straight onto Boofuls. Oh! How I laughed. Especially since I’d had my own soaking earlier in the evening.
Why did I get a soaking?
Well, dear reader, let me tell you.
About a week ago one of my friends was nominated for ‘the water challenge’. It’s just a bit of summer silliness and it just means that you allow yourself to get a soaking and post a video of it on Facebook. She in turn nominated me.
Just about exactly at that rime I got an email from Cancer Research suggesting that we hold a BBQ in aid of their ‘Burger off Cancer’ campaign. Hhhmmm, I could probably incorporate this into the party and do a bit of fund-raising at the same time, I thought.
Lashes had the brilliant idea of auctioning of jugs of water to the guests so they could throw it over me. I was gutted how many people were willing to pay money to throw water over me.