Quick! Scottish summertime is outside. Right now. Everyone out. Right this minute. Just in case this is summer 2022.
I’m so confused. I was born in Scotland. I live in Scotland. I’ve happily stayed in Scotland all my life and I LOVE IT HERE.
I just cannot wrap my head around summertime in late March, early April even. What’s going on?
A very fleeting summer
I’m confused and undecided. A little rattled even. By the time this goes to print it may no longer BE summer and we could have hurtled into autumn.
Maybe I am wasting a column pontificating over glorious warmth and longer days ahead when on the day you read this, you might be shivering under a blanket with rain pounding against your windows?
Weather aside, my level of surprise had already been heightened this week by the arrival of our joiner.
You may remember our disastrous house last year where bathrooms were falling through ceilings.
November was dark and dim inside through stour, not just wintery skies. It’s apparently time to tackle stage 2.
To finally open the door, kept closed since it all began, to valiantly stop pretending there aren’t gaping big holes in the ceiling with wires hanging down.
I swear, they’re like buses…
I immediately texted the sparky and plumber in disbelief over the arrival of the joiner. And guess what? They ROCKED UP TOO.
Buses, I swear to God. They’re like buses. I’ve waited since November for this, and they all rock in at once.
Fear of missing out over a decent biscuit, I was happy to see them all, it’s just the stour am dreading, having only just gotten over last years dust fest.
Tea and biscuits on demand, mostly for me but I threw them an occasional brew.
Why is it when someone works from home people presume, they’re just playing solitaire on the laptop and avoiding the accounts due?
It might be true in my case, but I didn’t need it continually pointed out by the helpful cheeky chaps currently being flirted with by MY dogs.
The really big question
I’m actually trying to work out what I’m going to do with my life, what I want to be when I grow up? (I am sorely aware my 46th birthday is careering towards me like a juggernaut).
Starting my 50th consecutive round of chemo, brings with it dubiety over my place within the business. It’s time to consider taking it easier.
I need to mull over something I’m good at and ascertain how to make money out of it if the café sells.
I popped upstairs. Why is it so much easier to fall asleep for a nap unintentionally than to fall asleep at bedtime intentionally? I’ve been dozing for 20 minutes, and just remembered I only came upstairs for my book and a pen.
Can I make a career from napping? MJ Duncan, Nap Consultant…. Nope, apparently not. Scratch that.
Eating and chatting! I do both with aplomb. A face for radio maybe? But what would I talk about and who wants to employ a sweary wee wummin and how can I incorporate eating into a skit? Stand up comedy? Not much need round these parts.
Is eye rolling a skill?
Sending hysterical giffs? Telling sassy teens to pack it in or rolling my eyes at my husband. Nope. Nope. Nope. None of these can be included under ‘any other skills’ in my antiquated CV.
Spending an inordinate amount of time in supermarkets?
Honestly, I’m never out of the damn things regardless of any amount of forward planning or list writing. Or maybe cleaning? I love a good clean, very cathartic.
Slight issue with my toxic trait of not letting anyone else clean, because it’s not clean unless I clean it and then getting angry when nobody helps me clean.
Being a mother’s help? Ehhhh, no. My kids’ room are either clean OR it looks like their wardrobes sneezed. There is no in between.
With three kids, I just love people remarking ‘you have your hands full don’t you – I don’t know how you do it all’.
Same reaction to my being a cancer patient. I don’t know how I manage either, but I know if I don’t one of us might die so I don’t really have a choice.
Hardly a great reference for gainful employment!
