Still Packing…

I wish I could report that all the holiday packing is done and we are ready to rock-and-roll in two sleeps’ time. But it would be a total lie. Admittedly there are a few more things gathered than 2 days ago but I still haven’t tackled the clothes situation, there is washing hanging up all around the house because I broke the rotor dryer at the weekend so it’s looking a bit desperate. I decided to take refuge in the park yesterday – we made a lovely village in the sandpit – and today we are going to meet a friend for lunch which I may be able to stretch to the whole day with a trip to the shops on the way home. Am I in denial do you think? Nobby has an interesting solution though. He is taking the car away tomorrow. He does have a legitimate reason in that he’s going to swap it for a spangly new Ford MPV which has finally arrived after a 4 month wait (hurrah!!) but we will be trapped here and I will be obliged to pack. Ugh. I have a new strategy of my own though. Since we are going to the UK I reckon that it doesn’t really matter if I forget anything as we can go shopping. Usually I loathe shopping but after being starved of M&S and Boots for 3 years I go a bit like a kid in a sweet shop if you let me loose in an English shopping centre. The first time it happened the bank were so shocked by the sudden spending on my Switch card that they froze the account and called me up to check I still had my card. It was very nice of them and all but since it left me standing at the petrol station with no way to pay and a big sign telling me I couldn’t use my mobile to telephone the bank I did sort of wish they’d called first and cancelled after.

So in theory if I warn the bank that there is going to be a major spend going on then I needn’t pack anything except the passports. Ooh, I like it.

Poppet is still upstaging me in the packing stakes. She arrived downstairs this morning with a load more things she says she’ll need. I’m not really sure about the woolly tights and the shoes that are 2 sizes too small but I am prepared to humour her. Besides I don’t want to rattle her cage too much as I think I may have pulled off a major coup regarding her ‘dou-dou’, Rosie the Rabbit. She was given Rosie when she was a baby and out of all the hundreds of other toys this became the chosen one; the ‘I can’t go anywhere without it’ companion. It’s a lovely soft stripy material and supposedly machine washable. Hmm, don’t believe the hype, people. After 4 washes it was looking distinctly flimsy and all the stuffing was bunching together. But could we persuade Poppet to choose another soft toy so that Rosie could get some rest? Er, no, and I strongly advise against arguing with a possessive 2 year old about what would make a more practical dou-dou. Then the holes started to appear, which just made her love Rosie more and severely tested my sewing skills. We nearly lost Rosie a couple of times after the move to France; she was left in Toys R Us and the DIY superstore so I quickly had to learn the French for ‘pink, stripy rabbit’. Then one time she slipped off the pushchair during a walk and by the time we noticed and walked back she had vanished. Faced with an inconsolable child and knowing that these rabbits are not readily available in the shops I started to panic. Until I noticed the road-cleaner’s lorry disappearing round the corner and in a flash of inspiration decided to race after him and ask if he’d seen it. Oh, he’d seen it all right, once he finally fathomed out what I was trying to say in my pigeon French whilst gasping for air and clinging onto him for support after my impromptu sprint down the road. He reached into his lorry and retrieved a sorry looking rag and couldn’t quite believe that this was a child’s pride and joy and not the discarded rubbish he’d taken it for. Oh dear.

But then Rosie really went missing, and in the nastiest possible way. Poppet left her in the local park one afternoon and nobody noticed until both kids were in bed and the usual shout went up ‘I want Rosie!’. Nobby was dispatched to the park after we’d thoroughly searched the whole house with no luck and sure enough there was Rosie – being tortured by a group of teenagers. The nasty rabble had ripped her to pieces and was kicking her head around the park. What Nobby wouldn’t have done for a quick ‘The Matrix’-style download of some choice French phrases to scream at the insensitive mob. But all he could do was gather up the pieces and bring them home where I tried all evening to stitch her back together… and of course failed. Nobby cleverly invented a story for Poppet, which thankfully she accepted, that Rosie had caught a cold in the park and a doctor had found her and taken her home to get her better and would send her back next week, while I frantically called a friend in the UK to locate us a new rabbit. When it finally came I’m not sure the lack of holes and dirt were completely lost on our little girl, but she didn’t say a word.

These days Rosie (mark 2) is dressed in a complete outfit to cover up all the new holes and dirt and I even tried re-stuffing her to make her last longer but it’s hopeless. So when Poppet asked me to put her through the wash this week I actually just washed the clothes then sneaked a brand new Rosie into them; I found a source of pink, stripy rabbits after the last incident and now I carry a spare. So far I think I have managed to hood-wink her into believing that my washing machine has taken on magical restorative powers. I just hope she doesn’t expect all her clothes to start coming out mended and back to their original colours. But she has been paying Rosie a lot more attention and she’s told me how beautiful Rosie looks after her ‘bath’; I do wonder if in fact it’s me that’s been duped?

So now I need to get a new spare… I feel a shopping trip coming on!