... let me explain. In ring 1 we have Noggin and Tog, being kittens they spend every waking hour knocking seven bells out of each other. Being kittens they are also very cute and their antics have us all in hysterics. They even have a tendency to fall asleep mid fight, presumably so they can recommence without the hassle of having to track down their opponent.
In ring 2 we have Tyson and Marauder, both of them are in season at the moment and they are simply a hormonal mess. They too spend most of their waking hours either sparring or trying to hump each other. Being Standard Poodles their size and enthusiasm makes then far from cute, especially when they hurl themselves on to the sofa whilst one is trying to wind down after a hectic day.
In ring 3 we have TP up against the tag team of bad man and 30%. He is generally a good kid but he is going through the typical teenager know it all/inconsiderate/ thoughtless/stroppy/hormonal stage and has been a real pain in the arse this week. Basically we have had a number of clashes this week over homework, his desire to buy a BMX bike and a couple of village fuck wits that he has taken to hanging out with. Hopefully we are making some headway but it has been a series of arguments that we could really do without. The only resident who has not been fighting is Eddy but even he has produced some quite belligerent snarls in response to Noggin & Tog.
And so I turn to Saturday ...
... I spent an hour or so clearing a couple of work mails and sent Tigger a text to arrange a briefing session before all hell breaks loose on Monday. The rest of the morning was spent completing a few odd jobs and loading TP's Mountain Bike in to the back of the Defender as it appears to have developed a gearing issue and requires the attention of an acned youth* in a Halfords workshop.
After lunch 30% and nipped in to Worcester to drop off the bike and pick up a Motorcycle Jacket that I had been tempted by last Thursday. On our return I walked the dogs and 30% hit the housework. The evening involved a home cooked curry and a wander up to the village hall where a local bad were playing a gig.
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* I believe they refer to themselves as cycle mechanics. If I had spent three years in an apprenticeship I would be pretty peeved at a 16 year old with a bike spanner assuming this job title based on their ability to mend a puncture.
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