Bed and Breakfast

I drove back from the airport tonight in weather that, in 55 years of being on this planet, I have not knowingly encountered. Torrential rain and snow; ice forming on the windscreen (until I turned up the fan and the heat to full) and lakes appearing on major dual carriageways. Nearer home, a car stuck in the middle of the road in a flooded hollow, with its hazards flashing, was one of many I saw. Stupidly I set off without a phone. Had I been caught in this mayhem, there was no way I could have phoned home to let Mrs Weasel know what was going on. I have no idea what my phone numbers are. Even my recovery service is on my phone, but apart from that, if the car had stalled in the atrocious weather, I would have been stuffed.
Of course, my two passengers had to wait for a much delayed plane. It seems to be a regular thing now, but mostly because of the weather. Young Master Weasel appeared a few days ago with a friend, and then promptly needed hospitalization and a general anaesthetic. A lot of tooing and frowing ensued, not to say a bit of worry. We are cautiously optimistic that he will make a full recovery, and was just about able to fly, despite being in pain from a bit being cut out of him. During the "ordeal", a very high up army chap told him his pre-op condition "looked like a gunshot wound".
I have barely had time to eat and sleep, let alone read the news or think of this blog. And now, the next lot of visitors have arrived and they will be here, with nowhere to go due to the stinking weather, for another five days. Then, there is a lull, and then Mrs Weasel jets off to a week of sunshine in lake Como, and on the day she returns, so does Ms Weasel and Ms Weasel's friend - making two round trips to the airport in one day.

All of this is to say, sorry that blogging has been non-existent, but sometimes, real life looms large. Food does not cook itself, nor do beds get changed and my face aches from smiling and being amenable.


subrosa said...

Ah the pleasures of family life. Jings it must be bad down your way. High winds here further north but no snow today as yet. I wouldn't like to be out driving as I'm sure quite a few trees will have fallen. The Forth bridge must be a nightmare tonight and I have to cross that to get to the airport.

Really WW, you ought to keep a note of your 'vital' phone numbers on a piece of paper somewhere. Most women seem too - maybe it's a female thing.

What to do is start a B & B. That can be effective for discouraging too many visitors. ;)

Onwards and upwards though. May I suggest Clinique's moisturiser for men. It softens the rictus grin which can set in with being amenable.

Jim Baxter said...

Symapatico. I hope the younger weasels are well.

I don't mind visitors as long as they understand that they have access to accommodation and all vittles in the house to their hearts content and with my blessing.

They must, however, also accept that only a mercifully small dose of my company is due to them. They can be glad that even this, such as it isn't, is liable to be withdrawn to its kip at any time - day or night through fatigue, drunkeness, or mutual boredom.

I hate being a visitor. I don't mind driving but hate being a passenger. Biker thing I suppose.

You're wrong about one thing though. The blog is now real life. It's the place where you don't have to pretend at all, ever, never mind until your face hurts.

Ruth@VS said...

Good to know you made it home OK. The weather map on TV looked rather horrendous.

Good luck with the visitors - can I suggest that you use your blog as an excuse to escape from time to time? After all, we all depend on you, out here in the virtual world...

Wrinkled Weasel said...

Rosa, I used to keep "vital numbers", but I am now a "paperless" person. I was lucky. This time. My sense of humour is intact, despite bed-making and the making of endless beverages.

Jim, Young Weasel did as he was told and got his "gunshot" wound seen to when he got back home.

Thank you Ruth for the encouragement. This is a niche blog, in a very small niche!