Stir Crazy

Six days in with my arm in a sling, sounds like the start to a great poem but in reality my enthusiasm for creativity is at an all time low. I'm like a bird with a broken wing desperate to return to the skies and appreciate the greatness of my reality but instead I am left flapping around in circles on the ground getting nowhere and spiralling down towards the abyss.

Always one to find a positive in every negative, the x-rays show no signs of broken bones which is apparently a good thing. There are however many negatives as a knock on effect of my situation. Having to hand the lawn mowing over to Josh and placing him in charge of my prize vehicle was a great buzz for him but also a huge beating for my pride. Not to knock his mowing abilities mind you, but it did remind me of my father mowing squircles in the back garden the day before one of our many house parties. Alas, also, the beast of a barbecue on wheels is no further forward than when I last touched it nearly 3 weeks ago and the staircase I am fabricating for some friends is still a pile of metal waiting to be cut up.

Our annual house party is less than a fortnight away, and as far as I can tell, it will be the smallest too date. I wouldn't say that we have intentionally undersold it, but we certainly have bigged it up in the usual manner and the weekend is looking like it will be compressed into a Sunday afternoon paella party with a bunch of locals and expats.

Josh will be entering the world of teenager-dom in a fortnight and, at the moment, Daddies suggestion of a moto-x bike appears to have been thrown out of the window. Apparently there are plenty of far less dangerous presents that we could get him. I'm now thinking he must be about old enough for his first rifle but I'm not sure that will go down to well either. My cunning plan to buy him a tractor, that I could borrow, has also gone out of the window as it seems the only ones you can pick up cheap are found in Toys'r'us. Ho Hum, I'm sure we'll come up with something.

On my ever growing list of jobs, it'll be no surprise that we have a few slates missing off the roof again. It'll be a few weeks before I can venture up there to put them back though. The trampoline we bought for Peters birthday needs finishing, once the rest of the springs arrive, then I'm going to build some concrete boots on the legs to stop it taking off like so many of our friends ones have. The bedroom ceiling in the gite requires some redecorating as we had a bit of water get in over the winter, probably as a result of me still not fixing the chimney. The roundhouse roof desperately needs the turf finishing but that will be a case of waiting for some willing volunteers. One less job though is the removal of a whole pile of scrap metal that was taken away this morning. Who'd have believed we could fill a flat bed transit with some old fencing and rusty metal.

Anyhow, time is money and all that so I'm off to put my feet up, probably have a little doze and continue feeling sorry for myself until such time as I'm fit to work again.