What a weekend

Surreal and weird weekend.

It all started with sleep deprivation when my mother's mobile decided to deliver a text message to my phone at 1am. (I am implying that the technology was the blame rather than admit that my Mum might have forgotten about the time difference and texted me at midnight on a Friday night...)

Then Pickle had first a bad dream and then a bad case of missing Mummy. I don't mind him cuddling up in my bed so much now he's over the 'let's see if i can stick my toe in Mummy's ear' stage... but now he snores. Loudly. Nobby caved before I did though and more or less threw the little blighter back into his own room.

Next day Poppet ate curry. Yes, curry. Mrs Fussy Knickers herself had some home-made Jalfrezi in a piece of pitta bread and stunned Nobby and me into silence for once. She proceeded to Chinese noodles later on plus she's been eating banana muffins like they're going out of fashion. I'm trying her on chili tonight, watch this space.

Meanwhile Tiggy is in disgrace having been 'caught short' two nights running. Now, imagine you're a dog, you can't get out of the house for a poo, you scratch at the back door and whine a bit but Mummy and Daddy have already been up half the night with their own pups and ignore you. Where are you going to lay that turd? In the basement obviously because you don't want the smell anywhere near your bed. So, on the nice easy-to-clean tiled floor or the tiny solitary piece of carpet that Pickle uses as his 'spot' for playing on the Wii.

The carpet of course. Twice. She's definitely in the doghouse that one.

Never mind, things pepped up when Nobby's team won their game on Saturday - you never heard celebrations like it; trust Man Utd to leave it till the 92nd minute so my husband can take the roof off with his cheering.

Me, I went to town on the garden with a lawnmower, a set of shears and a strimmer. Then I had a bonfire. It was great! Brought back memories of weekends at my Grandad's house playing pyro-maniacs with the weeks collection of cartons and papers in the days before recycling.

During all of this we received several phone calls from Nobby's Dad who stayed with us last week with his wife; they were working their way back home via Vienna and Prague. They only made it as far as Prague before the volcano's ash cloud closed the UK airports and they've been stuck there ever since. Only trouble is that they 'did' Prague in the three days they were expecting to stay and now they're a wee bit bored. And the hotel decided to up its prices to cash in on the stranded holidaymakers so they had to move as well. Nasty.

Could be worse though - my brother-in-law got stuck in Lisbon with a group of people from work after a team building event. After four days of waiting for the ash to fall they decided to try and make it home over-land. On a bus. He's giving us regular updates of their progress on Twitter and Facebook. They've about 1340 miles to go...

... and someone just broke the 'no farting' rule. I think he'd rather be in Prague.