A Plan So Cunning You Could Stick a Tail On It and Call It a Weasel
We went about our chores the other day. I dug in the stores to get Bear’s muesli supply out and shouted BUG with G E R at the end. A voice from somewhere wanted to know what’s up. What's up, I’m affronted, I was perfectly happy getting about my business and as I lifted the settee cushion to get at the stores below, I see an old friend of mine. I was so embittered I Selotaped him to the top of the sugar canister, immortalised as a warning to his tribe.
Is he a Pharmaceutical or a Confused Flour Beetle.
I don’t give a sod.
He wont be bimbling about Beez Neez again put it that way.
Now I know my arch enemy is small compared to the end of a cocktail stick and positively tiny compared ‘Gunnies’ trigger finger, but that’s not the point. I had all my cupboards out in Deltaville and was ‘enemy clear’. I’m just waiting for any of his family, friends and neighbours who are at this moment probably awaiting the ransom demand.
Well he ain’t kidnapped kids.......Think again. Don’t write, don’t send postcards and certainly cease any sexual relations that might procure more of your nation. This BS (Bug Superintendent) is on sharp lookout.
Couple this little incident with lack of sleep and paint Pepe’s face with a monobrow.
We have an ever present laughing gull who apparently cannot contain himself at two in the morning, sitting on the post at Beez nose, cackling furiously – loud enough to make you jump.
The train that starts his horn blowing some miles off and thinks if he’s at work we all should be awake in a supportive role. I’d like to tell him the likelihood of too many cars or pedestrians is quite small and we can all hear him without the need for his loud arrival. The chugger-chugging noise goes on for several minutes.
We have a new friend, the biggest male dolphin we have ever seen. Now its actually really cute that he wants to sleep beside us, but, just when all is once again settled and quiet, he’ll suddenly come up, blow, then leap - it sounds for all the world as if he is going to land in my lap.
Then intersperse between these events a snoring person next to me who is a definite comparison to the train and Pepe’s humour is fairly low on the joyometer.
At four thirty this morning I was playing Zuma because I get to fire balls of various colours which explode when I get three or more together. I finally slap Bear who wants to know what the time is.
Oh you are awake are you.
Watch as Pepe’s lips curl into a dangerous snarl.
Have you ever seen anyone use a glass pot of face cream in a violent act.
Turn over and sleep silently Bear, Sleep Silently.
Back to this morning, the plan was to go off to do the washing, sit quietly and do a blog while my smalls were dancing their way to cleanliness.
There’s nothing in any way small about those you know and something under his breath about an osprey could easily nest in them.
Have you ever seen anyone wield a hundred fluid ounces of Tide (complete with Downy for added softness) in such a menacing and painful fashion.
Get to you chores Bear, To your chores.
At this point I was seen scuttling toward the said laundry thinking the captain couldn’t get up to too much mischief. Silly me.
Bear put his back out. I swear he does something in the back or gout line every time I mention the Pacific Ocean. Anyway, he had moved the mattress, dug the sewing machine out of the innards of the bed base and other heavy jobs. He actually put his back out – well really his sciatic nerve – picking up a packet of tablets he’d dropped on the floor, there must be a moral there somewhere.......
By the time I got back from doing the washing he was squeaking about piercing pains in his right buttock and withdrew injured to bed.
Well senseless to lay there doing nothing but whine.
Now I know Bear is not blessed with the notion of multi-tasking, but heck, nothing ventured nothing gained – so a painkiller was slipped in orally and a computer was slid chestward.
The gentle nurse in me doing a Hatty Jacques impression with a stiff top lip said “You come up with a plan from here to the Panama Canal and I’ll consider feeding you.”
Funnily enough we have always had a fairly clear plan from the Canal to Australia with nothing even remotely written in sand from here to Panama. The choices and tracks are numerous but the real need is to be somewhere safe during the next hurricane season.
Now and again we eat completely separate things. One of Bear’s favourites is Chicken bits and bobs stew.
The bits that go into this stew are what any self-respecting, fairly easy to please and hungry Labrador would refuse point blank. A couple of big onions, sweet corn and carrots, a couple of Oxo thrown in for taste and thickened with four cheese mash mix. Well as an added dangler to aid his planning, I threw in four fat turkey necks.
What popped into my head as I withdrew to the kitchen was that jaunty line from Blackadder as he says to Baldrick - "You wouldn't recognise a cunning plan if it painted itself purple and danced naked on top of a harpsichord singing 'Cunning plans are here again!' "
I went off singing – “cunning plans are here again. La, la, la, - la, la. La, la,la, - la, la. Cunning plans are here again.” Then proceeded to chop away.
No sooner than the aroma hit Bear’s nostrils than Google was getting a good hammering. (The threat of fodder is all Bear has ever needed to be inspired after all). Then just the slightest of challenges; to sell the plan to me. O Oh
Now much as I love the man, I cannot watch him dive into the stew. There are bits that look like inner soles that he sucks the meat off and discards the plastic looking shuck. Things that look like the male parts of a squirrel. Others that look like you could chamois the decks with. Then the neck nibble, slaver, suck bit as Bear does his impression of Henry the VIII and the bones go over his shoulder.
I did an exuant stage left with the excuse of cleaning the bathroom and myself at one and the same time.
All over and we settle to have a planning meeting.
Well shiver me timbers, you’ve picked a winner me lad. Guatemala. Trumps - all it took was one quick look at the national bird; the Resplendant Quetzal (also on the Coat of Arms) and I was putty for more info.
We had always wanted to leave here post UK visit and hot foot to Cuba, spend a week or so exploring by train and then on to Jamaica. Fort Antonio (a favourite of Errol Flynn, now that was a man who looked wonderful in tights) and Montego Bay. We had wondered about the ABC’s – Aruba, Bonaire and Curacao or the San Blas Islands but having read a few blogs about the Rio Dulce and Isabel Lake, it looks like a mini Peru.
Mayan ruins for Bear. Hundreds of birds for me and safety for Beez Neez, what more do we want. Take a look at www.tortugal.com just one of several licensed marinas and there are many more that are not.
ALL IN ALL A MIXED OLD LIFE WITH MUCH TO LOOK FORWARD TO
THANK HEAVENS I DIDN’T SAY SKEGNESS