The Heat is On

If you think my life is, at time, a touch surreal, then you clearly haven't been to stay with my Mother-in-Law.

Hell no.

Believe me, a long Easter Weekend up there, and you'll be finding Zombie Badgers, Cocks named Jesus and Cursed Yew Trees a welcome return to normality.

Now, before I get stuck in, I think it's best I make it clear that this post is in no way a dig at the woman herself. She is, after all, my husband's mother and a kind woman who loves her grandchildren very very much.

However, she is also a woman who finds it physically impossible to turn the heating off. Ever. Or open a window. Or a door. Ever.

This gives her a house a similar feel to a Tropical Biome or perhaps the pool area at Centre Parcs. Or, even maybe, the vivarium inhabited by your average deadly reptile.

It also gives the air a slightly mind bending effect. I think it's the build up of Carbon Dioxide. Whatever it is - it's not good.

A day in The Sweatbox starts on you thinking you have risen somewhere in the Moist Tropics only to open your eyes and be greeted by this:


(Geniune photo of disturbing bed-side ornament taken at Mother in Law's House).

And it ends with your running out of Strongbow and hitting the Harvey's Bristol Cream (which is stored outside the room past Nana's chair and the Sherry glass is very very tiny so you have to go back and forth to the drinks cabinet about 150 times thus ensuring that you come across really very badly indeed and sweat even more).

Somewhere in the middle of the day The Toddler bangs a Big Red Button and alerts the emergency services to Nana's potential demise. You (as in I) panic and try to pull the damn system out the wall (which actually just confirms to the control centre that Nana is under attack) only for a disembodied voice to echo forth from the speaker 'Mrs X, Mrs X, can you confirm your situation? Are you in need of assistance?. Being a mature and responsible mother of 2, you are plunged into hysterical laughter and have to retreat to the toilet where you sob tears of hysterical laughter into a towel.

Somewhat later than the middle of the day, Nana takes a trip upstairs on the Stairlift. Or rather, she tries to. It appears that 'somehow' some Lego has been carefully inserted into the mechanism and Nana is marooned somewhat short of her destination. Husband with the (very) Sad Face has to try to alleviate the situation using a meat skewer (to get the Lego out - not to skewer Nana - that would be a tad harsh, even given the heat). I, once again, have to lock myself in the toilet. The chair is eventually freed to resume it's steady work.

There was also a very confusing conversation about the latest series of 'Microsoft' (which is actually a cooking contest - you might know it as Masterchef) but I'll leave it there as it's giving me a headache and I need a glass of iced water.......

Even the ornaments were begging for mercy:



(Further geniune photo of disturbing bed-side ornament taken at Mother in Law's House).

Anyway, I hope you all had a lovely Easter. Here comes Summer......

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