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Writing because words are the essence of my life.


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Puppy Tales by Finley aged 9 weeks and 2 days

My day so far ….

4.45 am. Rescue Dad’s watch from bedside table and chew it.

4.50 am. Wake Mum (owl ears) up and have it forcibly extracted from gob.

4.52 am. Plonked into garden for a wee

4.55 am. Cry because Mum doesn’t want to play (MEANIE!) and goes back onto her big basket WITHOUT inviting me

5.00 am. approx. Have a poo. Make the bungalow smell of warm pasties

5.01 am. Puppy happy hour (actually extended today)! Tear around like a loony! Yay!

6.15 am. Alarm goes off. Hear Mum n Dad uttering a collective groan.

6.27 am. Dad reluctantly gets out of bed. I chase him into the kitchen, eating his toes the whole way.

6.28 am Dad puts some food down for me.

6.29 am. I decide I prefer Dad’s toes.

6.30 am. Dad extricates himself from me and shuts me out of the bathroom. I cry.

6.31 am. Mum calls ‘Finley?’ and I dash over to her. I have learned my name. Everyone – except Satin and Betsy – is very impressed.

6.32 am. Mum hoists me onto the bed and I proceed to tear her hands to ribbons in spite of the chewie things she keeps offering me.

6.34 am. Dad brings tea and I try to have some. It’s hot. I decide not to bother.

6.35 am. I take it in turns to annoy Mum/Dad/Satin. I give Betsy a wide berth. She’s hormonal or something and hates my guts.

6.52 am. Satin farts. I’ve never heard a fart before. I inspect Satin carefully. Did someone let the air out of her? Is she going flat? Mum and Dad laugh and say she’s an old lady. I make careful notes.

7.00 am. News is on. I try to eat my Mum’s Kindle. She’s not happy. Dad gets up. I’m sad.

7.01 am. I fall asleep.

7.05 am. Mum has to get up because Betsy wants a wee now. I follow Betsy out. She drinks out of the water bowl outside. I watch her. I copy her. We drink together. Mum gets misty eyed. Silly moo. I wuvs big Betsy I do. Shame she hates me.

7.25 am. Dad goes out with the big dogs. I cry because I want to go. Mum goes in the shower. I cry because I want to get in with her.

7.26 am. I cry because I’m in the hall and I can’t find my Mum even though she’s still in the same place as she was one minute ago.

7.32 am. Mum turns the shower off and I finally hear her and come running. Exhilaration. She still loves me.

7.33 am. I try to eat Mum’s wet hair. She’s not amused.

7.35 am. I try and eat mum’s shorts while she’s putting them on. She’s not amused.

7.38 am. Mum walks to the kitchen and I bite her toes all the way. She’s not amused.

7.40 am. I demand food. She puts food in my bowl. I eat as though I’ve never been fed before.

7.40 am and 30 seconds. I lie on the kitchen floor and watch my Mum make a pot of tea/her lunch/her breakfast/sort out the worktop/throw things away/start washing up

8.10 am Mum burns her toast. It’s an interesting smell. She makes more toast.

8. 17 am. Mum puts mats in the washing machine that I’ve decorated in my own inimitable way. I like the washing machine. I sit and watch.

8.22 am. Mum sits down with her breakfast. I run around, empty a bin or two and then sit with her.

8.28 am. Betsy and Satin come home and get some toast. Hmmm. I make notes.

8.32 am. Mum ignores me. I watch her ignoring me for a while. Then I hear Dad making breakfast for himself so I go and repeat steps 7.40 am to 8.10 am.

8.50 am. Mum gets changed as she’s off to the shop. I try to hinder progress by holding on to her leggings as she puts them on. She’s not amused.

9.02 am. Mum is running late. I keep running through the door every time Mum tries to go. Mum asks Dad to hold onto me. He does for half a nanosecond and then I get free again. Mum’s very not amused with my Dad this time.

9.05 am. Mum leaves. I’m sad. Dad’s here though. I settle down for a nap.

11.00 am. Dad phones Mum in the shop for ‘instruction’. Apparently I have been napping since she left and been as good as gold. I bite Dad. He hangs up.

The day is going well so far….

For more updates check out my Facebook Page https://www.facebook.com/thewritersapprentice/ 🙂 and I hope you like my selfie. I took it meself … no really I did!

 

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Bonkers Mortgage Brokers, Books and Bollox: Part 1

House moving is completely bonkers

House moving is completely bonkers

The whole house move thing is almost as stressful as everyone would have you believe. I can summarise my angst with three concepts:

• Mortgages
• Books
• Lack of control

Big house small house.

Big house small house.

My husband and I had hoped to be mortgage free when we sold this house, but unfortunately we aren’t even close to that. Given that we’re moving south, our lovely four bedroom Derbyshire house is only worth a two up two down terrace, down there, which on one hand is perfect because that’s all we want. However, because prices in the East Midlands do not seem to have held their own, we’re selling for less than we bought for 7 years ago which is a bit of a bummer to be honest. It means we need to take out another mortgage. Should be straight forward right?

Wrong! We went to take advice from our (very efficient and not at all bonkers) mortgage broker. Apparently because we’re taking on a business we cease to be of interest to the banks. They only lend if you have a guaranteed income. Although our business is established, the banks aren’t interested because when we take over it all becomes Day 1 trading. I was pretty disappointed about this news because … well…

I’m an army brat! There. I’ve said it. I’m not sure I ever say it with pride. For me it is all about turmoil and insecurity.

I look great in khaki

I look great in khaki

My Dad exited the Forces when I was 19, so I spent my entire childhood moving from place to place. I once worked out that I went to 16 different schools between the ages of 5 and 18. Fortunately for me, the BFES (British Forces Education Services) employed some very gifted teachers and I did ok. But the moving around; I hated it! Some army brats get so used to this nomadic way of life that they spend their entire adult lives moving around and they enjoy it. I, however, am desperate to find somewhere to put down roots. The next house I buy I want to be the one I live in until I die and hopefully that will be a long time away! The longest I have ever lived in one house is 7 years and that’s in the one I currently occupy, and sadly I have only ever thought of this as a means to an end.

So we can’t get a mortgage for at least 12 months and probably closer to 3 years. Boo.

I have now started to hunt down houses for rent and I have approached several estate agents. We have dogs so renting is not straight forward at all, but there are a few houses available. What’s completely awful is that rental values down South are as much or more than our current mortgage. I mean, really? We can’t get a mortgage but we can pay extortionate rent? Blimey.

Say what?

Say what?

Or so I thought anyway. I phoned one estate agent yesterday to book a viewing on a property next week and she asked about our ‘situation’. I explained and she said they would need to see proof of income to sort out a rental deal. I explained our ‘situation’ again, more clearly perhaps, and said we wouldn’t be able to show a year’s worth of accounts as we were starting with Day 1 trading. I had this sinking feeling in my gut that we weren’t going to be eligible to rent either. We could really be up shit creek, couldn’t we?

Fortunately, it transpires that if we can pay 6 months’ rent in advance we will be able to rent. No
problems there then, because we will have the excess money from the sale of the house waiting to go as a deposit on a new house somewhere. Maybe we should buy a static caravan instead? But what do you do if you don’t have a deposit?

It was never this difficult to get somewhere to live when I was a student!

My perfect home! There I am, writing away!

My perfect home! There I am, writing away!

However, I put an ad on Gumtree to see if anyone had anything we could rent, and I have been contacted by a really lovely couple with a beautiful little cottage that is perfect for us. I am crossing everything that can be crossed that we get this one because it just sounds fabulous! No room for you lot to come and stay though ;-p

More on that in the future!

Cross your fingers, dear reader xxx