like a hurricane

I have been a veritable whirlwind, a Tasmanian Devil of activity. Over the bank holiday weekend I have worked with Gypsy Tart to transform our gardens. Digging practically to Australia, hefting large chunks of concrete and countless bricks, chopping up enormous roots and the more usual potting out and cutting the grass have been my life and I have thoroughly enjoyed being able to see the results of my work, for once.

Poor Mr McMuffin has been reclining on the sofa for most of this time, only pulling himself together to get up and out and be his usual charming self with our chums. I wish he could find a nice new job, as surviving each day is wearing him out and he looks completely exhausted. Social Work can be shitty at any time, but working with incompetents at the 'coalface' of child protection just has to be the worst and although I have my own work whinges, I wouldn't want to swap places.

Whiny Slinky seems to have been even more needy since we threw him out on Saturday night. Fortunately we didn't have to suffer his demented cries as we were out until the small hours, but Gypsy Tart, Single Cookie and the Carrot Cakes were forced to listen to his pain as he wouldn't leave Gypsy Tart's garden. Apparently Mrs Carrot Cake confessed that she'd always hated Slinky, but been too embarassed to tell us. Don't worry, Mrs Carrot Cake, we detest him too. In fact I detest him so much that he's curled up on my lap right now, at least I know he's not pooing anywhere and he's quiet for once.

Newsflash: Mr McMuffin has given notice. He now has a smile on his face and a spring in his step.