Life at the cottage have been going well. All the animals are supremely healthy and bouncy. We have lost a few moles and rats and an unrecognisable rodent to Finn the fabulous hunter.
Christopher, the bat, is still hanging in there - even though I can see him screw up his little face at that bad pun.
Rambo, the frog, is still holding the fort in the garage and Jean-Luc the mongoose is still going about his mongoosy ways.
I have been a little quiet as have been using the daily word count on something else. Exciting news coming soon.
This year, however, I realised while lying in the hammock looking at the owls last night, I need to avoid becoming too fluffy and sweet like a girl with a pink dress and unicorn who works at Hallmark writing birthday cards.
I would much rather be the girl with a youth offender cat and a bat. Then I realised that it has been a long time since I have expressed an opinion on all the people that annoy me. Even though I admire some of them for being so supremely unabashedly annoying I have been all forgiving and quiet and sweet about their horrific manners and terrible ways - even though it drove me up the walls.
So for a while until I have banished the sparkly pinky unicorny sweetness, I will write my ingratutide diaries. Starting with the shaky old lady in the Spar.
One shouldn't say ugly things about old people. In fact the other day someone berated me for calling a woman old, saying rather snootily that she was in fact "older" and not old.
"Older than what?" I thought. "Earth? God? The universe? Hugh Hefner?"
I ran this past my group of lovely "older" friends, aged between 82 and 89. They laughed until I had to go fetch an inhaler for one and a cup of tea to revive the other.
But in any event back to the old lady in the Spar.
I like to help people. I often help old ladies read their shopping lists, help them count cash, assist them when they wonder why they can't find any brandy in the Spar.
So of course I was nice to the old lady whose hands were shaky as she put three little chocolates in her shopping basket. And yes, big idiot that I am I let her go in the line in front of me as the shops were busy as it was the festive season.
Of course then she excitedly waved at someone and the next minute I know two men with full trolleys arrive in line - with the old lady pointing out that the trolleys also belong to her.
I could do nothing but swear in my mind while grinding my teeth - especially when the "shakes" were all gone as she paid for her small mountain of food. (Those people eat a lot of chips, cookies and sweets).
And then she had the audacity to thank me profoundly outside the store, smile an evil smile and even wave a very unshaky wave.
Went home to check if the witch in Hansel and Gretel was really dead or if she is just shopping at the new Checkers in Lorraine.
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