They will survive

Mr Smith did digging - my back hardly aches at all. I suspect this is a one off so I will have to speak severely to the weeds to ensure they don't grow back. I am now going to watch "How to get your husband and son to lay a path" on YouTube. The first one I looked at involved diggers on a housing estate not a small vegetable garden with the raised beds in the wrong places. I also need to move the husband along a bit to the next weed.

These really weird packs of live slug killer have arrived. You have to store them in the fridge then water them into your flower beds and little creatures come alive and kill the slugs. I imagine them like micro sized ninja warriors. I bet they don't work. They'll have some sort of ceasefire and the slugs will burst into Gloria Gaynor song.

Dilemma du jour: I have grown tired of barbequed food. This is a shame as it means the onus of producing inedible meals falls on me. I did a pork/garlic roasty thing on Saturday and I can still taste the garlic. It was pretty horrible but has great potential. I could make it without the garlic and add something else; not marshmallows or candied peel but maybe parsley, thyme and mushrooms. Meanwhile we will return to our normal diet of burnt sausages. I'll sprinkle them with a bit of live slug killer from the fridge.

Splish splosh crunch

We went out for a fabulous dinner and I ate far too much and felt quite ill in the night with ghastly indigestion, serves me right. I went to swim it off this morning where there was a very overenthusiastic man doing annoying splashy swimming. I had to change lanes to avoid his fallout then discuss his antisocial sploshiness with Judith Big Bra in the changing room. JBB swims every day - she must be as fit as a flea but still dead fat.

Walked home in the drenching rain but was so so happy to see it I was positively Gene Kelly up Roehampton Lane until I got splashed by a bus; probably driven by that man in the pool.

Gardening, ironing, cooking, cleaning or building? Mmmmm? I should be stripping the last bits of varnish off the dresser but I think a cup of tea with a few biscuits from the industrial pack I bought in Costco and the crossword would be infinitely preferable. Our 'not smelly at all but a bit lopsided' dog agrees with me. Perhaps I will do the other things later in the day after another biscuit. I think I will even up the dog's awful haircut first.

Mr Smith will be back from "wet" golf soon. "I see you haven't done the ironing, cooking, cleaning, building or stripping?" Well, I've been busy with some biscuits.

Internet Date

Mr Smith sent me an e-mail yesterday inviting me out to dinner tonight. Gosh - what shall I wear? It's probably MacDonalds so I won't get my hair done.

We have electricity in the shed. Weyhey. The Apprentice son is after all an apprentice electrician, which is why we now don't have any electricity in our house.

I ache. However, our garden is looking better - well dug, and all my vegetables are looking perfect until something comes and digs them up or eats them. The dresser is almost completely stripped. Having sanded away for hours and hours I resorted to stripper and scraper. There is now a colour dispute. The Apprentice wants dark red called Eating Room Red - apt but too difficult to paint. I want Card Room Green - a bit too dark. Mr Smith chose two perfect shades with an either/or approach that seemed just the thing.

Mrs Smith's good deed of the day: On Freecycle there was a request for mugs from a bride to be who found the church hall where they are having their do has no mugs or cups. Oh dear. I have just replaced ours so am able to give away all our old ones. If I root around in the attic I'll probably find a load more. I wonder if they'd like some biscuits too - my overbuy at Costco was serious.

And so to plant. Geraniums in hay thingies and up the wall, busylizzies everywhere else. Time for a bit of colour in my garden other than a couple of blue sheds.

Pitter patter

It's raining! Alleluia! My garden is so pleased. It's not exactly bucketting down but it may yet. I am so excited I am giving you a bonus blogread.

I took the dog to the vet yesterday re missing tail and nose. "Don't you ever bath this dog? He smells, That'll be £75 please." Now I have not only bathed him but given him a bit of a trim too. The only problem with this is he got a bit cheesed off after side one and wandered off. So now I have a half short haired, half long haired dog. But he smells better.

And now I will stare out of the window watching my garden soaking up the rain ... along with the dining room dresser. Oh God no, I forgot I left it outside and it's much too heavy for me to move. I will do something half hearted with an inadequate bit of plastic sheeting. I would call upon Mr Smith or the Apprentice to do this for me but they're busy "bonding" at golf. Mr Smith feels guilty for telling him we don't want him and his brother living with us into our dotage. I don't.

Order of the day

Costco was like waking up in retail heaven. My good buys were things like many a Fairy Liquid and ketchups. My bad buys: almost everything else I crammed into my trolley including most of a pig, all its ribs and bacon forever. I also seem to have overdone the biscuits. When we opened the box there were layers and layers of assorted biccies including those lovely ones with the jam and stuff that looks like sawdust and butter - divine. I got the Apprentice to hide them from Mr Smith.

I started painting the dining room dresser white. I sanded it and primed a couple of drawers. "No, we don't like white. Can we choose a different colour?" Oh well, back to the drawing board, or rather the paint shop, for me.

The Shed progression is always held up by the order of things. The Apprentice can't put anything much in there until the ceiling is up; the ceiling can't go up until the plasterboard is painted - so I painted it - but it can't go up before the lights go in. The lights can't go in until the electricity is in. The electricity can't go in because he needs a different bit and he can't get it because his car is in the garage and anyway he has to wait in for the lights to arrive. Meanwhile I have to fall over all his clobber in the playroom where I want to paint the dresser. I am beginning to hate this damned shed. And it all costs so much money.

Why doesn't it rain? Ever? It is pretty handy for doing outside jobs and I painted ten large pieces of plasterboard outside yesterday. I did a good job as a zillion greenfly came to tell me. I adopted a sort of Buddhist approach to removing them as I discovered they have green blood that marks the plasterboard. I was being a bit perfect about it all forgetting it is for the Shed not the Sistine chapel ceiling. I bet Michaelangelo didn't have to put up with greenfly.

There's no place like home

Before I start on this rant let me assure you I love my children above all else and would lay my life down for either of them if the need arose. However, Mr & Mrs Smith are agreed on one thing: We do not want to live every day with both our sons. Mind you we felt that when they were 2 and 5 but now they are 21 and 24 we feel quite ill at the prospect of sharing our house with them for the rest of our lives. The Apprentice is now really upset, especially as he has invested so much time and so much of our money in building a shed at the end of the garden. Our timing could have been better but we have only just received the threat of the Student son moving back in.

The Student will soon graduate, with a miracle from the God of Degrees. His plans: "I thought I'd get a job then follow a career in ... I dunno ... I'll move back home and think about it." And the sentence started so well.

I am moving to the seaside.

Dental delights

Horrible happening of the day: I have to go to the dentist. However, I no longer have to go via loads of furniture emporiums looking for a dresser replacement for our dining room. I have to go to the paint shop and consult Messrs Farrow & Ball who I see do a special paint suitable for people modernising their 1980s dressers. I am really excited by this project and can't wait to get started. The Apprentice has to finish insulating the shed first as it looks like a load of dead hamsters have been stuck to the ceiling at the moment. He has to cover this up so I don't get fibreglass/hamster particles on my skin or dresser.

I have to take the dog to the vet to cancel his appointment as I will be at the dentist. Diary keeping never was quite my forte. He has an itchy nose which has lost all its fur - the poor animal looks like a overloved teddy bear.

Tomorrow is the excitement of my Spring. As a post dentist treat I am going to Costco with the Lovely Claudia (as long as she can make it). I love Costco. It's just massive and full of billions of things you never knew you wanted til you see them. And it's all in bulk. 24 camemberts suddenly vie for trolly space with my 18 fairy liquids, 36 toothpastes, 12 jams and 25 packs of frozen prawns, not forgetting 64 Cadbury's Boosts (requested by my sons). Mustn't forget dogfood and deodorants. Mr Smith despairs but is so pleased I don't take him to Costco he just sighs at the sight of me trying to ram all my purchases into cupboards still brimming with my previous purchases; we still haven't got through the five enormous boxes of Crunchy Nut Cornflakes I bought last year. Perhaps we could finish insulating the shed with them.

On a serious note, Nurse Jackie has been found out. That just has to be the best medical tv series ever ever made. If you don't know what I'm on about join Mr Smith who goes to bed the moment it's on. I sit there willing Jackie to take more drugs and tell more lies and she always does. More please.

Dressing down

I hate our pine dresser. It screams 1980 something at me and should be in a twee cottage somewhere rather than in our smart London house. However, on second thoughts I have decided to keep our dreadful pine dresser but give it a facelift. This will be the first project carried out in our new shed. Mr Smith is sighing deeply as if I had made this decision yesterday he wouldn't have had to waste so many hours being dragged around antique shops today. I thought they were valuable hours spent together disagreeing about what horrible things not to have in our house. In the Kingston Antiques Market we met a friend, Penny. She is a fellow golf widow and was delighted to see us. She was also very impressed as well as slightly jealous of Mr and Mrs Smith shopping together. I tried to assure her this was a rare occurrence as usually Mr Smith would be playing golf with her husband and very seldom goes anywhere with his wife unless she looks like spending money on unsuitable pieces of furniture. She looked at us as though we were something sweet so we held hands and looked obligingly soppy. No we didn't.

There was a fabulously good deal on Cadbury's cream eggs in Sainsbury's so Mr Smith bought twelve and I ate them. Well, not all of them ... exactly. The boys helped .... a bit. How many Cadbury's cream eggs is too many? I'll have another one and let you know.

Bag Lady

The Student appeared for about 5 minutes between parties interrupting my viewing of Ben Hur. Do you know .... nobody actually died in the making of 1959 Ben Hur chariot race? However, in the epic 1926 silent version they dropped like flies; an expected hazard of a stuntman's job back in them days.

I watched Britain's got Talent and to my amazement someone I know was on. I have to admit he is a friend of a friend, a brilliant Irish guitarist and singer who now owns a pub in Sussex. He was favourably received and is through to the next round. Phew.

Today's task is to overhaul the contents of my handbag. My beautiful Louis Vuitton has grown rather heavy of late so time for a cull.
Here's what I found:

Two purses containing no money,
A candle (well it's dark in there),
An oyster card and an old fashioned very tatty driving licence,
A torch in the shape of a cow (still dark),
A pair of knickers that I think are mine,
A glasses case bereft of glasses,
Toothpaste and toothbrush - I've been looking for those,
A brush and comb - but not together,
A tv licence reminder - oh actually, on closer inspection I see it's the actual licence,
A diary - I wondered where that was,
Nine pens and a broken hairslide - I'll mend it and do some writing,
2 Chequebooks containing no cheques;
Car keys - oh that's where they got to,
Alan Titchmarsh's guide: How to build a shed;
and How to plant a hanging basket - I might need one ... in my handbag.
An emergency fiver, A chocolate shop loyalty card,
5 lipsticks - 4 containing lipstick in vile unwearable shades, 1 empty,
Unopenable nail varnish - I've tried,
Camera instructions for camera I don't own nor ever have owned,
Nailfile & tweezers - oh how useful, if only I'd known,
Blackberry instructions but no blackberry,
46 receipts and 8 appointment cards;
A very big paperclip,
And lots of fluff, grit and coins and 3 loose keys for unidentified locks.

And now I will put it all back and look somewhere else for my mobile phone.

I blame the parents

We didn't go to the street party in someone's house as I felt too tired after all those wedding celebrations. I had a lovely glass of Pimms instead looking at the naff garden lights I bought in Homebase last week. They make my garden all twinkly ... the ones that work. They are solar powered and, although some of them seem to be a bit unenthusiastic, they give out enough light to create the impression of a flood lit sports ground for fairies.

I ate a Cadbury's cream egg for breakfast, the Student's carefully saved cream egg in his Cadbury's Easter egg ... only because he wasn't a bit sorry for me when my Easter egg was eaten by a mouse. The Apprentice ate the rest of the Student's chocolate egg. Oh he will be so cross when he gets back from totty chasing. Never mind, I can always buy more Cadbury's cream eggs but, knowing he'll be rude and horrid to us, we might not give them to him. It'll be a test but I bet it doesn't go along the lines of: "Mum, please can I have a cream egg?" There'll be much berating and sulking - normal behaviour for him.

Actually. I feel a bit sorry for the Student as, having finished his final degree film and paying fortunes for it to be developed, he has found there was a hair across the lens in the last reel. Apparently, it's very noticeable and, although not his fault, he will have to carry the blame and be marked down accordingly. Mind you, I notice he's just left it on the hall floor for the dog to chew or Mr Smith to stand on. I will move it and see if he says "Mum, sorry to disturb you but have you seen my film reel that I seem to have mislaid?" I somehow don't think it'll go quite like that. The temptation to hide it and pretend I have no idea what he's talking about is very great.

I blame the parents.

Mr & Mrs Cambridge

Oh that wedding was just lovely. I thought minibuses for all lesser royals was a bit of a hoot. No, you're not nearly royal enough for a coach ... it's the minibus for you. Here comes Princess Anne driving hers and Elton John in his. Samantha Cameron forgot her hat. The Fergiettes looked a bit orff I thought and I didn't like Camilla's outfit but the mother-of-the-bride looked charmingly elegant. I sang along to Jerusalem - so kind of the Telegraph to print the order of service for me; some of those choristers looked so very young I felt they needed my help. What perfect bridesmaids, two of whom were very very little. Oh Wills & Kate, may you be as happy as you look on the tea towels.

I painted the final bit of the Shed, an outstanding bottom bit. One day I will start coat two o'er the entire thing. Oh how fatiguing.

I talked to my mangetout seedlings - marginally more interesting than Mr Smith sometimes.
I am growing far too many things. I think I should limit myself to say 5 veg only and a few spuds. I will try that next year. In the meantime I will stock Sainsbury's veg department single handedly from my teeny vegetable plot.

Tonight we are attending a street party which appears to be in someone's home, not the street. Don't they have any real friends? We forgot to rsvp but will turn up anyway, en famille. Mr Smith is good at being rude like that.

Ghostbusters

Gosh, ridding my house of these infestations of pests (one mouse and one wasp and one student) makes me feel invicible. Mr Smith looks on admiringly as I trap my fingers in the mousetrap yet again. It ain't easy setting a mousetrap without it snapping shut at the vital moment. The wasp was simply disposed of using the rolled up newspaper technique and the Student disappeared when told it was Vegetarian dinner.

Mr Smith brought me flowers. Mr Smith did not buy me flowers - don't be daft. These were delivered to his office by a client and, instead of passing them to the office staff, Weedy Chris or Greedy Kelly, he gave them to me who was mammothly chuffed. It is a mighty bouquet in hideous shades of bright yellow but they look Eastery and give me great cheer.

Exciting things to do today: Meet Kate Middleton to assure her prewedding nerves are usual for all young brides. I remember our wedding day with Mr Smith looking absolutely terrified but I assured him it would all be fine and just look at us 26 years on. Handsome princes comes in all shapes and forms .... at least you've got a real one.

Real things to do today: Plant out dwarf beans, courgettes and mangetouts in their newly prepared beds. OOOh eck where on earth am I going to put the leeks? It's all getting a bit congested what with Jamie Oliver Barlotto beans doing really well and taking over the whole vegetable garden. That Jamie Oliver does get everywhere and I'm getting a bit fed up with his ugly mug on everything I look at. Watch out Jamie, I am getting rather good at exterminating pests these days.

Squeak

I just caught a mouse; not before it had eaten a big round hole in my Green & Blacks Easter egg. Suddenly I don't like chocolate any more or mice for that matter.

Buzz

I just killed an enormous wasp. Well done me.

International Day of Chocolate

I feel sick.

Shall I finish off the jigsaw Mr Smith started, just to annoy him, or shall I sort out my wardrobe? I don't trust this amazing heatwave to last forever and I can just see me putting away all my wintry woollies and replacing them with summer flimsies only to find I was a bit previous. I'll make some sort of effort later with compromises at cardigans.

Easter was lovely but God I ate. How I ate and ate and ate and not just chocolate. Due to the glorious weather we were able to gently barbecue the pascal lamb (and split an infinitive). Thanks Rick Stein for your great demo on U-tube which we followed carefully. Just heavenly. However, the boning, butterflying and marinading was a right palaver and I got meaty fingers all over the laptop as I was going for a rerun on a video of a couple of New Zealanders hoiking out the bone with the greatest of ease whilst I was upside down stabbing into it with a big knife wrestling it back onto the worktop with mother-in-law looking on giving wrong advice. However, I did it.

If I search around this, very messy, house with any luck I should find some more chocolate.

Reasons to be Cheerful

Only one day, actually only 12 hours, til Mrs Smith can once again eat chocolate after her Lenten vigil. I am thinking Easter Day officially should start at midnight ... So, if I stay up late enough I could get an early start on the chocky eggs. Only slight problem is I am not absolutely certain Mr Smith has bought me an egg. When I was last having a super snoop I didn't find any Easter eggs. Mr Smith can be a bit sneaky like that. I remember when I was little my grandmother showing me her real Faberge egg and feeling so sorry for her not getting a chocolate one. What a bummer only rubbish diamonds, no flake or curlywurly.

Dr Who is back. Didn't understand a word. Well, I did but it's a bit deeply difficult. Saturday night just wouldn't be complete without some seriously awful telly and Britain's Got No Talent certainly fits the bill. Oh happy me ... just a tadge of chocolate and I'd be in heaven.

We have Mrs Smith, mother of Mr Smith, staying with us for Easter. I arranged to meet her at the British Museum in "the shop". What I didn't know is they had left no retail opportunity unexplored and there were many shops, positive malls, selling Egyptian Mummy ovengloves and Rosetta Stone umbrellas. By some miracle, I bought neither. I eventually found her near Aztec mousemats. I brought her home for Mr Smith to be horrid to, as a change from me. He gets all moody and spoilt when his Mumsie comes to stay - a bit of a big fat princess of a man really. He left me in Homebase car park this afternoon. Yup, he just drove off with his mother trying to leap out of a moving car in order to save me. Ah, but I know Mr Smith would never really leave me - not like I will him if there isn't serious chocolate set before me tomorrow.

Good idea/Bad idea

Mrs Smith's top five bad decisions - recent ones, not things like having children:

Joining three different teams for the pub quiz so I got all the answers then entering on my own and almost winning. Everyone now thinks I am a frightful cheat.

Having that last glass of wine with Mark the Restaurant, served by Mark the Gay and almost ending up singing Madonna - just like a karaoke virgin.

Leaving my wellies and mobile phone at the sea - not exactly a decision, more a bit of absentmindedness brought on by the previous bad decision.

Recording five episodes of Coronation Street and having to watch them all back to back in order to catch up by tonight. I am a slave to my soap. It's quite fatiguing but if I don't watch it the poor actors will have done all that work for nothing. I fancy Steve MacDonald. I did fancy that guy Audrey's friend is dating until he turned out to be a transvestite in his spare time.

Tumble drying the laundry instead of pegging it out on a beautiful sunny day and getting found out by the Senior Dalek who will exterminate me.

On the other hand I managed to make a few brilliant decisions too. I went to Portsmouth early and bought loads of fabulous bargains as pressies for all my friends and relations. In fact I bought so much at Crabtree they gave me a free gift, a loyalty card and 10% off everything I buy next time. Ooooh I absolutely love buying crap; I must go back and get some more.

I went to see the Student who lives in a room full of camera equipment, mountains of it with a little gap to get to the bed. I took him 6 doughnuts and my very beautiful digital camera - to add to the pile. I hope this doesn't end up on the bad decisions list.

Pimms O' clock

The Juror's case was dismissed due to lack of evidence so the bloke got off and our Juror returned to his role of Student and went back to his University of Druggy Arts. That was a quick jury service. I think there may be a part two coming up next week but it's difficult eaking information out of the Student; he's under oath.

Pebble squares are just brill but sadly make all the other slabs I've made so far look a bit boring. We are now planning a pebble mosaic to go in front of the Shed. I am being sent to the seaside to collect more pebbles. We do need an awful lot. I so need a day away from heaving earth; heaving pebbles will be quite different. Shall I take a spade?

The Shed and Son of Shed are just about finished. Just a bit of touching up the paintwork and then the Lovely Claudia can come and inspect them. I must get Mad Carina round too then it'll be a Coven Meeting... in the Shed rather than in Son of Shed where it would be a trifle cramped with the garden tools.

Oooooh Mr Smith has just made me a glass of Pimms. How I love this bonkers weather - June (without the rain) in April. There'll be drought come Summer ... oh sorry, I seem to have turned into a Cornish soothsayer. I meant to say I hope there won't be a hosepipe ban or Mr Smith will have long arms dragging endless watering cans down to the vegetables whilst muttering "I don't see why we need to grow vegetables, it's much easier to buy them at Waitrose."

Let it Blossom, Let it Grow

I gardened. How can such an enormous amount of backbreaking, time consuming work be reduced to two words? The whole thing is a complete mess with mounds of earth everywhere and a rather previous runner bean plonked on top. Well, I got canes so I got enthusiastic. I want it to look like a really posh allotment rather than like a giant mole has gone beserk at the end of the garden. Oh well, better get out there and do some more before Mr Smith moans. "It was perfectly ok as it was and I don't like your paving." But I made it myself.

The Student son, currently The Juror, has been allotted a case and is sitting in judgement again later today. He is sworn to secrecy so I've heard every detail of the case and it's truly fascinating. He needs a packed lunch (with a note .... Dear Student, I am proud of you being such a good citizen. Hang 'em high. Love Mum.)

It's the Flintstones - having a gay old time.

If you have committed a crime in the Kingston area you may well find yourself up before twelve good men including the Student son. He is on jury duty. He has little chance of actually getting a case what with Good Friday, Easter Monday and Royal Wedding all taking place during his allotted time. Jammy git. He is going smart - obviously doesn't understand that he's not actually "appearing in court". Oh well, I hope he only gets community service rather than a custodial sentence.

I have an exciting day today. No, I really do. OK, it may not involve space travel or meeting George Cluny for tea but I am hoping to paint the shed balcony, lay some more paving (which is coming on nicely by the way as we have ventured into pebbly tiles and they are brill) and erect shed son of Shed.

The Apprentice wants us to make a pebble mosaic. Plenty tricky but not impossible - just laborious. The first thing is pebble collection. I have brought loads back from the sea but definitely not enough. We need to sort them by size and colour into plastic boxes which seems a bit dull but I suppose will make things easier (for the Apprentice). We have to go to the River at low tide and gather more, different, pebbles. Yabbadabba doo.

Unexplored territories

There's a part of our house that I hardly ever visit and that is the top floor (of three) where the boys sleep. They have their own bathroom which I do go and muck out if we have a guest staying at Christmas. Sometimes, if the ironed clothes and sheets have sat on the stairs for over a month, I might deliver them to the top floor and I have been known to cast the hoover over the top landing, annually. Is it because I am really, really lazy or perhaps because that part of the house is their domain? I wonder if there are millions of people who never, or very rarely, investigate what's going on in some rooms of their homes. For all I know there could be a family of Lithuanians living up there. There aren't, I've just checked but looking at the piggery state of the boys' rooms you'd be hard pushed to see if they were dissident free. Actually, no self respecting boat person (or lorry person) would have ventured into their bathroom before I cleaned the loo and scrubbed the shower. There again, the boys hardly ever come into my bedroom or bathroom. Maybe we have built boundary walls within our house - My Space Not Your Space.

I went to B&Q today with Mr Smith who was just awful. He'd promised me this trip a week ago as he has the big car and I wanted to buy big things like bean canes. The car has been unwell and Mr Smith has been playing more golf than Tiger. We left really late as he dithered about for ages. The moment we arrived he wanted to go to the loo - I went before we left! Then he dragged his feet, didn't help find anything on the list, then the shop closed. However, I did get my shed (son of Shed) and it just, but only just, squeezed into (crotchety) Mr Smith's car with the bean poles digging into my shoulder.

The Student son comes homes tonight then we have the full compliment - the whole family. Mr Smith looks slightly fatigued at the prospect.

A bit seedy

In an attempt to plant peas I had to resort to the instructions. Aha. Sow in drills (what are drills?) 12" apart in zig zags with 2" between seeds. What? I made an indent in the soil and chucked them in. Beds should contain plenty of organic matter and be well fertilised. Do ground elder and fox poo count? Gosh the next bit looks very complicated indeed involving twigs and nets and anti bird, anti slug, anti bug, anti cat etc. Why don't I just build a great big vegetable cage. Mr Smith asks why I don't just buy Birds Eye like everyone else?

People are always complaining about the cost of cauliflowers. Anything under £50 each seems quite reasonable to me.

My head aches. I haven't got a hangover but the Apprentice has so I am having it with him in sympathy. The concrete slab went hard whilst I was away at the seaside collecting pebbles for our pebble mosaic (don't ask!) so all is OK and the Apprentice son thinks I'm a brilliant Mum and a jolly good cement mixer.

Only 7 days til chocolate - oh goody. I'm not doing this Lenten vigil again. God doesn't mind if I eat chocolate or not. I am no thinner. I just eat other rubbish instead such as jelly babies or marshmallows or ratafia biscuits or all three rammed into my mouth at once - a cocktail of loveliness I truly recommend.

Observation of the day by Mr Smith: If your wife falls asleep whilst doing the crossword with a biro in bed you end up with scribbly sheets.

Shallow Graves

Don't ever ask me to bury your adversary in concrete. I am in a bit of a panic. Having spent the whole of Monday laying a concrete slab for the shed deck (terrace) I realise we didn't add enough cement so the whole thing is very crumbly and not actually setting. I don't want the Apprentice to see this awful mistake. In fact I am going to run away to the seaside when I've done the ironing.

Who is NEJ? He is apparently an actor who had a fling with a tart and doesn't want his wife to know. Silly eejit, she'll find out soon enough. It's in all the papers just his name isn't ... for now. Mrs Smith is definitely on the case.

The Apprentice has laid out my vegetable garden - four raised beds that look horribly like graves. I must get potaging and make flowers and vegetables grow in them before it is mistaken for a family burial plot. Mr Smith thinks it looks most sinister but has the sense not to say so for fear of becoming fertiliser.

April showers, where?

I thought it might rain what with it being April but I was mistaken. We've had no rain for weeks, which was rather handy for us building our shed. I don't understand this weather, do you? One moment it's mid summer then it goes all wintry again and there you are in your bikini freezing your tits off. I planted all my sweet peas under their perfectly formed cane trellis. (Well, not that perfectly formed actually; it looks like a messy load of sticks in the ground rather than neatly criss crossed bamboo canes.) - Grow grow. Then I put together the new garden furniture which was very tricky as Mr Smith had managed to purchase some cheap horrible flat pack effort, supposedly designed to seat six people with no elba room, and the screw holes all in the wrong places. I was suspicious when I saw an Argos delivery lorry pull up - I thought he said it was from Home & Garden. Maybe it was Homebase, who are now owned by Argos, and I wasn't listening. The Apprentice and my drill (not his although he likes to think it is) were called for. We cobbled together a table and some chairs and sat outside for a bit admiring our assembly skills and now I am cold to my bones.

The ironing beckons. Gosh, nobody's life can be this exciting. I have to drive Mr Smith to Surrey to collect his mended car. I have to remember to put drops on the dog's nose. It's gone all bald to match his stupid tail. Since using the drops it has got considerably worse. Do we persist or go back to the vet and pay another £35? Mr Smith suggests shooting the dog. The dog is hiding.

I was going to spend the afternoon gardening. I am trying to make my vegetable garden resemble the plan I carefully mapped out rather than a big pile of earth. However, Love Film have just sent my latest request. Mmmm what shall I do? Shame it's not raining.

Son of Shed

Ooooh, it's all go in my paving factory though there are a few "seconds" (i.e. a pile of rubbly concrete) where I have become too impatient and have evicted the curing paving slabs from their moulds before they were ready so I could embark on the next batch. I must calm down in my production, or get more moulds. Mixing that concrete by hand is damned hard work. I do use a spade so not actually by hand in case you were worrying.

My vegetable garden is planned. I bought a load of sleepers today (heavy planks not lazy students) to edge the veg beds. Cost: about £50 per courgette. I also nearly bought the Shed a baby shed. It's a tiny toolshed like a sentry box or an outside khazi. I'll paint it to match the Shed and use it to store my one spade. Mr Smith broke my gardening fork yesterday when he offered to help weed. I am suspicious this may not have been entirely accidental. I found him another more manly fork with which to attack path and plot.

My final task of the day as set for me by my task master, The Apprentice, before I embarked upon Vegetarian Tuesday's dinner and the ironing, was to varnish a mighty pile of flooring planks for The Pavilion (the artist formerly known as the Shed). Every bee, fly and any other passing flying insect decided to become laminated between the coats of polyurethane as natural exhibits. "Mother, what are all those flies doing all over my floor?" "The Hokey Cokey?"

I would lounge in bed tomorrow morning but we have a delivery of garden furniture ordered by Mr Smith to come at the worst possible moment when every bit of our garden is taken up with piles of wood, sheds, more sheds, bits of soon to be sheds, ex sheds and ex garden furniture. He means well; I mean to kill him ... with a garden chair. I'll put his body in my little shed with my broken fork.

Aggregating

I have found my true vocation: I am a cement mixer. We stupidly thought we'd save a bit o' dosh by not hiring a cement mixer then had to mix 15 bags of grit with cement and water by hand, bag by bag. Very tiring it was too. I did most of the mixing whilst the Apprentice looked on admiringly. Sometimes I think I am a brilliant Mum as well as a talented cement mixer.

I quite like being a builder. You wear a uniform of cement and paint infested overalls and take three sugars in your tea. I had to do the lunch run to Gregs the Bakers for fatty high carb treats which I ate like a starving navvie. Soon I'll be telling Mr Smith I could do it for a bit less for cash, you know wha' I mean, guv.

I have become quite experimental in my home made paving and we now have coloured slabs. Admittedly the first one broke because I tried to hurry it. However, I will soon have enough to start my vegetable garden. Ooooh the carrots and beans will be so happy.

I was hoping Mr Smith might burn some more bits of dead animals for our dinner on his barbequeue but it's raining. Oh well, I'll lend him an umbrella.

Far Pavilion

When's Easter? The Apprentice and I have managed the whole of Lent so far without chocolate and we can't last much longer. We are looking for those special supermarket deals of 3 chocolate eggs for a tenner ... each. We will direct Mr Smith towards Asda.

My home made paving slabs are fantastic. In fact they're almost better than bought ones. So we made some more. Turning them out is very exciting - a bit like a very satisfactory pudding.

I have gardened the wilderness by the shed. Well, that is I have done half of it, generously leaving the other half for Mr Smith who spent the whole weekend playing beastly golf. The idea is a smart vegetable garden with neat beds surrounded by paving rather than a neglected pile of earth covered in nettles.

The shed is more or less finished on the outside. Now we have to do the deck. Oh yes, it's very grand, our shed at the end of our garden. Perhaps I ought to call it a log cabin rather than a shed or maybe I'll refer to it as The Pavilion.

And they're off

It's Grand National Day and I will be throwing my money away on some nag that will fall at the third, as usual. To mark the occasion I have been following the jockey's diet. I start with a delicious mixture of oats and fruit that I soak overnight in milk. It's very sweet and very sustaining and would be just the thing if you were then going to ride a big strong racehorse all morning rather than sit on your fat arse gazing into space. Dinner is meat and salad. I decided the bits in between don't count. I have so far put on 4lbs. Not quite what I had in mind!

Shed painting report: It's door and windows today - horribly difficult. Then I can do the whole damned thing again with coat two. Oh how exciting! Good grief I ache.

So so exciting. My paving slab moulds have arrived so I can make my own paving. OK, I know you can buy it ready made but it's really expensive and this is a lot more fun. Not til I've finished painting the shed I hear you cry. Oh, alright then.

Splatter & splutter

Actually, yesterday's entry wasn't entirely true as lots happened. It was gloriously sunny so I painted some of the shed and it looks blue. I had extreme difficulty reaching the bit under the overhang - tres tricky - and I covered myself in paint. I then had to scrape the paint off and get poshed up to taxi Mr Smith around Surrey. We collected his sick car from the BMW private clinic and took it to the more general hospital of Local Man What Does Cars. I had to travel behind it in my beautiful silver dream machine of a Mercedes SLK with the roof down in the wake of a fog of black smoke billowing out of the rear end of Mr Smith's exhaust. Our dog does less smelly farts. Well, it's now going to be fixed. I am suffering from carbon emission poisoning. Mr Smith had to take me out to lunch to compensate and very nice it was too.

Mr Smith was very good all day as he cooked dinner. Good weather means time to get out the barbie and burn some meat. He's good at that. Long may this heatwave last. I'm off to paint more of me and the shed blue. The Apprentice can make me a cup of tea and reach some of those really tricky bits. Mr Smith can applaud.

Nihilism

It's quite late and I haven't managed a blog entry today because absolutely nothing happened.

Spring water

A gloriously sunny Spring day that I celebrated with a swim, indoor and out. Fitter me!

Last night I surpassed myself in the Vegetarian Tuesday fare. There was a bit of "What's this?" but Mr Smith did at least admire the lentil pie before saying "This would be really nice with some meat." Oh please! Chicken tonight - Lighter Healthier chicken so stand by for complaints.

Mad Carina came round to admire the shed. She felt all it needed was a bit of snow and a chalet girl to give it the full finish. I thought some roofing felt would be more beneficial. The Apprentice hammered away all day long with me passing him bits and painting some more battens. He has covered half the roof with pretty little shingles that look like a patchwork quilt and take about as long to cobble together. Sadly, you can't see the roof from the ground but he has done a splendid job ... so far. Mr Smith put on his jeans then said "Well done, son" before sitting in front of the footer on telly.