My sister Hazel called a week ago to tell us that her and her husband Ian are expecting their first child in November. Turns out that looking after our wee Elisha back in January was enough to convince them that babies are really good fun.
Great believers in doing things in the traditional order, Hazel and Ian have just had an offer accepted on a new flat, too, with more bedrooms and the space required for an expanding family. With us having set off on the slightly different path of buying a house, having a baby and maybe getting married at some point in the future, it makes Hazel and Ian’s approach of marriage / house / baby seem particularly well thought out.
Congratulations to the both of them on all their good news. Oh, and to my mum too – it’s less than a year since she found out she was becoming a gran and now it happens again. If little brother Andrew can pull the same stunt this time next year that’ll be a hat trick. ;o)
Last weekend, Fliss and I both took ill after eating a suspect steak pie on Saturday evening. Fliss was first to feel the effects on Sunday, seeking shelter under a duvet on the sofa before sprinting for the bathroom a couple of hours later to eject the contents of her stomach.
In between splutters she gasped “I haven’t been sick in a while.”
“Yes”, I offered, “It shows, too – the quality of your wretching isn’t very high.”
A few hours later and that would join the long history of smart ass comments that have come back to haunt me over the years, as I too ended up doubled up on the bathroom floor. Fliss noted that the quality of my wretching was indeed of a good standard. Touché. I ended the evening shivering and curled up in bed as my lips went blue and my body thermostat went all over the place.
The 48 hours that followed weren’t pleasant at all – whatever we got I seemed to end up with a far worse dose than Fliss. I had headaches, stomach cramps, and times when my body temperature would just drop for no apparent reason. I’m still not quite over it towards the end of the week, but I came back to work all the same. That’s something we’re both suckers for – you get people who kick the arse out of sick leave and somehow get away with it, but if either of us have any more than a couple of days off the guilt just adds to the suffering and we both struggle back in.
Anyhow, I’m hopeful that I’ll be feeling a bit better by the weekend, as Fliss is fine now and off on a night out tonight with her work mates. I’ll be hoping that Elisha takes it easy on me – she had her first batch of inoculation’s yesterday, so she’s a little bit under the weather herself.
I can say whatever I like here, really, because Amish people don’t use the internet. Probably. Well, by process of elimination, I’m fairly confident that AMD doesn’t stand for Amish Micro Devices and, even if it did, electricity isn’t their thing. The chances are high I’m not going to be found “accidentally” suffocated at the bottom of a grain tower if I mock them.
That’s not the purpose of this post, though, it’s to marvel at their building skills. We’ve all seen these DIY programs on tv where a team come in and transform a room or two in a well edited couple of days work. But after an Amish couple had their house torn apart by a tornado, the members of Club Medieval rebuilt it in just 15 hours. That’s awesome.
As the song goes; tonight we’re gonna party like it’s 1699