Hole in my bucket
It’s not so much a hole in my bucket as a hole in Mum’s watering can. It was so funny as she was filling it yesterday. As the water was pouring from the water butt into the can at the top, there was a steady stream coming out at the bottom. Mum said it made watering the flowers a bit like an old It’s a Knockout game – could she finish the job before she lost all the water. Needless to say, the watering can will not be packed as part of the move. Mum has been threatening to buy a new one for ages and has decided it’s finally time. She says she might treat herself to a better one. I looked at the rusted wheelbarrow and wondered why that was going with us too.
Emptying the car
Today we have to help emptying out the car. The car is normally full of our things. Mum always has tennis balls, spare towels, leads, cooling coats, even her dog repair kit – that’s what she calls our first aid box. She quite fairly points out that our stuff tends to take up every available space. For the time that our things are in storage, Mum needs to get all the things she needs into the car when she leaves here. There is not a lot of space. She has promised to make sure there will be all the things we really need, but perhaps not quite so many spare tennis balls for when we lose them. She said we could make do with a towel between us instead of one each. The sacrifices we all have to make. I can’t even have my lovely dressing gown with my name on it. I suppose I shall just have to look forward to being reunited with it at the other end.
Love
Wilma
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