The Duck House
The duck house has arrived. We’re all very excited, well I’m not sure if the ducks are excited, they haven’t said. Mum and Dad are the most excited but we’re pretty pleased too. I think Dad is excited as it means he can try out his waders. Until he goes into the pond we don’t actually know how deep the centre is. Dad thought it would be the same as the edges but Mum expects it to be deeper. She had visions of the rope to the anchor for the duck platform being too short and the whole thing sinking. This is another of those ‘what could go wrong?’ moments in this house. I’ve got a lifejacket and I’ve offered to lend it to Dad just in case.
Mum insisted the mower had a grass box to collect the grass. She knew if it didn’t that she and the three of us would tread grass into the house all day. Therefore the mower has a grass box. Dad went out and cut the whole lawn and he didn’t need to empty the grass box once. Sadly, nor was there any grass in it when he came to the end – it wasn’t fitted properly and all the cutting were all over the grass ready for us to tread into the house, just as Mum had feared.
On the bright side, there were no crashes when Mum tried manoeuvring the mower in and out of the shed, so that was better than we feared.
I’m very disappointed that our only dog neighbour has moved house recently and no longer has a garden which borders ours. It is so much harder to shout over the road to her than it was through the fence. Now I’ve only got the sheep to talk to and if I’m honest they don’t seem to have a lot to say for themselves. I’m left with barking at the postie and other delivery drivers.