Tick, tick, tick . . .

I left a message for George the other day since he’s been doing his Scarlet  Pimpernel trick and impersonating the invisible man.  It said: ‘tick, tick, tick, George.  That’s the sound of time ticking away in the lead up to 15th March.  WHERE ARE YOU?  Tick, tick, tick . . . ‘

Bless him, he’s kept it on his machine and says it gives him his daily laugh!
The message seems to have worked though because he’s fronted up finally (what’s he trying to do, give me a heart attack?) and has dismantled the cattle yards (at last, at last!) although the constant rain means he’s also created a mud bath on the river flat and down my drive, which after all my dedicated grass seeding over the last five months, has broken my little heart!  Oh well, I guess you pay a price for everything in life!
He’s been back in the big gully by the house snigging out the trees into a big pile for burning and he promises me, faithfully, that next week he and his brother, Rex, are going to be putting up my much maligned semi-circular fence from gate to gate to separate the house paddock from the farm.  This is the fence that I saw as clear as crystal in my mind’s eye from even before I took possession and everyone has told me can’t be done.  Now you know me, the best way to make me bull-headed is to use the word ‘can’t ‘ . . . . so I’ve been patient, persistent, petulant and precious by turns about it and George and I have had many a head to head over  it.  Finally he has capitulated (sometimes the easy way out is the best way forward!) and roped in his younger brother (who looks ten years older than George) to give him a helping hand.
I had to take my car in for a lengthy stay at the car doctor.  I don’t think I told you about my little prang.  The only way I can describe the weather we have had over the last three months is by saying it has been ‘typically English’ . . .  wet, wet, wet.  So when the plumber was her the other week weaving his magic over my new bathroom and getting ready for my new kitchen, he had to drive in with all his tools then drive out again straightaway as the river was rising over the bridge.  When he finished for the day I drove him and his tools back over to the other side of the river to reunite him with his car and was just about to drive down the dip when I thought ‘this looks a bit slippery, he’d better not drive down here’ and I engaged 4 wheel.  To no avail.  Instead of going forwards I slid sideways – straight into the bullbar on George’s truck!  Which, of course, did absolutely no damage to the bullbar, and wiped out my drivers wing!  I guess it never rains, but it pours!
We have been waiting and waiting for the weather to clear even for a day so we can have our farm road graded.  We’ve been waiting since Christmas.  Finally they came on Monday and Tuesday and did a relly great job turning our rutted old goat track into something resembling a road.  On Wednesday we had 4 and a half inches of rain in under 3 hours.  Even the stalwart, resilient, and endlessly optimistic Ged just sat on the verandah and cried.  One step forward, ten steps back, are we ever going to get there . . . are we there yet, are we there yet, are we there yet  . . . ?
You know when I get a bee in my bonnet about something I just go out there and will the universe to please me (!)  Well, last week I got fed up of worrying and waiting about our new kitchen benchtop which with Scott’s heavy work schedule seemed like an impossible dream, and he was having problems with the tallowood etc so I just said ‘Leave it to me!’  I got out the yellow pages, let my fingers do the walking, and my sweet voice do the talking and found a mob in Wauchope prepared to bend over backwards to give me what I wanted.  You’ve never seen anyone get washed, dressed, and in the car so fast – I was like Penelope Pitstop on speed!!
We picked it up on Monday and it looks fantastic.  How far we have come, how long we have journeyed, how much we appreciate this moment in time . . . .

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