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Lucy’s Observations of the Day

I am a born optimist and always like to make the best out of a bad situation. With so many children, horses and sporting interests, something invariably goes wrong in my week. Rather than dwell on it, I try to just get on with things and report it to Facebook in the form of a status update beginning with the words “Lucy’s Observation of the day…”. Today’s blog entry includes some of the most popular/idiotic Saxely Observations that have occurred in the last 18 months, I hope you like them (and that reading them may help you avoid similar errors!).

If you really want to irritate your husband,  I have found that picking up a dead mole to show to the kids and then forgetting about it and leaving it on your mother-in-law’s kitchen window-sill for ten days works wonders….”Lucy, why is there a rotten dead mole on mum’s window ledge? This is just the sort of thing that annoys me about you”

1) If you under-cook sugar mice, they don’t set and form an alien gloop that is impossible to remove from anything. (2) If you over-cook sugar mice they taste worse than poo. (3) If you cook sugar mice to perfection, you get immediately hassled by at least six people to test one. (4) Basset hounds like burnt sugar mice. (5) Feeding burnt sugar mice to basset hounds equals a nasty crumbly residue on the carpet and a dog with a sticky nose.

Mucking out a 10-day-old foal, who has yet to go out into the field due to the wet weather, is comparable to being in a charity shop changing room with a stunt rider on a Kawasaki with a nitrous kit.

Howling basset hounds following you around the school when you are cantering do nothing to improve the concentration levels of a young horse.

It is wise, when letting the dog finish off food directly from a dinner plate, to remember to pick up the plate prior to your husband coming in and seeing it.

Two year old girls and bright red Clinique lipsticks can never exist harmoniously together in the same house.

Loft insulation is one of the worst things on earth.

Elderly people’s incontinence pads do not stay securely in place when used as stand-in nappies for toddlers, even with half a roll of your husband’s electrical tape.

You know that your three-year-old child is a genetic upgrade on her father when she learns to turn on the child-lock on the washing machine after you have loaded it so that “Daddy won’t walk past and turn it off before it is clean”.  (Jon has form for seeing the light on, thinking it has finished, wanting to save electricity and turning it off mid-cycle. I have form for complaining about him doing this).

Law school does not improve common sense. One of my friends (with a law degree) came round today in a panic over her laptop which was “broken”.  After a 12- second assessment I was able to diagnose that it had the NUMBER LOCK on…

If you steal a pair of your husband’s light-coloured smart socks and then wear them with leaky wellies whilst emptying barrows on to a muckheap in the middle of a muddy field, it is probably wise to take the socks off and hide them before he comes in.

You know when your children are approaching teenagerdom, when you overhear them “Blasting” each other with the Harry Potter-style spells: “Fat-i-fy” and “Gay-i-fy”.

Although the “pushing and running as hard as you can” method is a highly effective way of getting a loaded wheelbarrow through deep mud, it vastly increases the probability of a welly coming off in a speed-mud-vacuum.

If you are loading a reluctant horse and are out of horse food, Morrison’s own-brand crunchy nut corn flakes make a suitable substitute.

Next time I remove a two-year-old filly’s ripped rug in the morning and think to myself “I’ll put another one on later” and if “later” actually translates into “when it is pitch black, cold, muddy and I am dressed in lycra with jelly legs after a 50-mile bike ride because I was too damn lazy to do it earlier” then I should remember next time that this is a false economy and it takes six times  longer in the dark and is at least ten times as unpleasant.

Troll (3) is not shy. I have just watched her fetch her red singing potty, park it in the middle of the living room, drop her tights and sit on it. This was in front of her friends and mine at her birthday party and let’s just says she made full use of the potty…

Rugging up a herd of breeding mares and youngstock has definite parallels to competing in a triathlon. This morning I have spent ages sorting out equipment of various shapes and sizes, carried heaped piles of equipment to various locations, got soaked to the skin,  had to take on and off several pieces of equipment as quickly as possible and run four times around a large field whilst gasping for breath. I think I prefer triathlon…

Maximum heart rate tests hurt… a lot.

Wind-up torches in “dens” sound like a good method of toddler amusement but require at least 20 minutes of mummy’s best den-building and torch-finding time. In reality they keep toddlers entertained for approximately 45 seconds.

The opposite of burning tea is called “turning on the oven then forgetting to put the food in”.  This is probably more annoying than burning it.

Taking hound-child pictures of the day to upload to Facebook is all good fun but makes your morning harder, delays mucking out and generally adds to the child-hound-horse chaos in your home, especially when, as a consequence, your eight-year-old misses her school bus and you end up having to drive her to school in your mucking out clothes.

Small children can ski black runs without panicking if they are told that they are “dark blue”.

Things that two year olds who are just getting the hang of sentences should refrain from saying to their mothers when they require carrying:- “Up, up, up – stupid”.

The next time I give my husband the simple task of “turning on the vegetables on the hob whilst I’m outside haying the horses”, I will be sure to leave printed instructions explaining how to “turn the oven on at the wall”.

When getting your husband and big sister to spend ten minutes trying their hardest to fasten you into your Woof-wear metal “cage” body protector, it is probably advisable to make sufficient prior checks to ensure that it is not on backwards. If you do not do this and they suceed in their task you will be 1) very uncomfortable 2) subjected to serious derision.

Littlest Petshop figures bloody hurt when you stand on them in bare feet.

Trifle the cat does not like granny’s turkey gravy even when the dog has stolen her food for the last 24 hours and she is starving.

Slugs are very difficult to remove from tissue paper and slug-slime is very difficult to remove from fingers that have been attempting to remove slugs from tissue paper.

There is a positive correlation between the number of cups of coffee and kisses given to husband and the amount of loaded barrows of horse-poo husband empties onto the (distant) muckheap.

Once dried, Stella Artois makes a very substitute for hair gel.

Nasty Asti gets progressively less nasty after each glass and, providing the first glass is consumed after several none-Asti alcoholic drinks, is almost drinkable.

Using the fail-barrow because you are too lazy to go and find the good barrow is a false economy when mucking out nine stables. Failure to act on this obvious truth is likely to result in a minimum of six accidental mid-yard poo-tips.

It takes an average of seven large bounces to propel one prone toddler from one side of the trampoline to the other whilst you are on all fours in your pyjamas with a four-year-old riding on your back. Doing this at 2pm scores about eight out of ten on the embarrassment scale when  you look up to see the postman watching you with a signature-required parcel in his hand.

There is a positive correlation between the amount of hoof trimmings consumed by a basset hound and the amount of methane expelled into the living room that evening.

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Why I wouldn’t swap my husband for Brad Pitt

Women often joke that they would swap their husbands/partners for their favourite movie star given half the chance. I’ve got to admit that at times, if I could click my fingers and instantaneously replace Jon for a less complaining model, I’d be tempted, particularly if a) Jon was, at that exact moment, moaning about the piles of paperwork in the kitchen b)I could be certain that the man I’d get in return was Brad Pitt.

I think that after the initial novelty (of Brad vacuuming topless) wore off, I’d be trawling the internet trying to find Jon again. This may coincide with me not being able to start my dumper truck or needing to deliver a foal to Newcastle but these things would merely be a catalyst to something that I know I would do anyway, eventually.

After all, I live in the UK where it is only warm enough for semi naked vacuuming three weeks of the year.  I like Jon’s rough ‘n’ ready mad professor in D.I.Y. clothes look – and am treated to it at least 300 days a year  – so it just comes down to simple maths – three weeks are not enough to justify a swap in my opinion.

I’ve come up with a few other reasons too, which I’ve listed below to stop me texting Brad, the next time Jon annoys me.

Brad looks hot in Levis but would he actually be any good with a Paslode first fix nail gun, a bucket of cement or a tile-cutting machine? Does he have any stable building experience?

Brad Pitt wouldn’t want to go swimming in Newark on a Monday evening and if he did, it would cause mass subscription in the weight-watchers water spinning class which occurs on the same night and it would be more difficult to park.

Brad is used to Angelina’s dress sense, It is unlikely that either my old horse-poo -coated clothing or lycra triathlon gear would do it for him.

Brad almost certainly is accustomed to five star hotels and Michelin three-star restaurants; he wouldn’t appreciate my hobbit-hole cottage or understand my smoke-alarm dinner gong.

Jon cannot operate a washing machine or oven, he’d probably die without me and a)I’d never want that to happen and b)I wouldn’t want Brad to have that on his conscience.

Jon has been extensively trained in the art of back tickling (and other similar activities). It’d take at least 7 years to train Brad up to a similar standard and he may never be as good as Jon even with all that training.

Brad may well have a similar amount of kids to us but he has never encountered a Troll. She’d send him running back to the Hollywood Hills in no time.

It is highly unlikely that Brad would want to go on £99 ski holidays and even if I were married to a multi-zillionaire, there would be no way I’d ever pay over-the-odds for something if I could find  it cheaper with a bit of internet searching at the last minute.

Jon is getting a bit deaf in his old age (although I suspect he only needs his ears syringing) – this is useful when all five children are singing Gangnam style during supper. Brad, with good hearing, would never cope.

At least I know what the triggers are for Jon’s whinging (piles of papers in random places, dog poo on lawn, dirty washing thrown in a pile on kitchen floor, baling twine-trip hazards on horse yard). Only Angelina knows Brad’s triggers and what if he turned out to have more than Jon does?

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