This post was supposed to be about last weekend and the “darkness into light “walk me and the girls did on Saturday. It will be not!Today took such turn and twist that is all I am going to talk about.
At half six this morning when I came down for my yoga the sun was already shining high. The temperature outside was summery, no better day for wearing shorts and this time it was true. On the beach it was a joy to see how the moods were ecstatic. Regulars and not regulars dog walkers were all waving one another with big smile pleased by the atmospheric conditions. Every greeting was accompanied by a sentence praising the weather or, to be correct, “the glorious” weather. Irish people love this expression to address days like this and after 16 years in the country I totally understand why.By afternoon the rain came but the warmth stayed,meaning that if you would cross the same pleased people from this morning they would be instead complaining about how heavy the weather is.
Home from school drops and my walk,while parking I noticed the postman coming up the road. My dogs don’t particularly like this postman. He is a semi-pro marathoner and uses his delivery shift to train: he delivers the post running and if he has to talk to you for some reason or make you sign something he keeps running on the spot. I think this is what upset the dogs the most, plus they smell his fear of them. Every time I open the door to him, there is a terrified expression in his eyes and the inevitable question:”they(the dogs) don’t come out right?”.I knew since day one he was not comfortable around dogs but what makes him so afraid of mine goes back to a “little insignificant” accident that happened soon after we moved. He had a parcel for me and I went to open the front door but forgot to close the hall’s door.The giant dog got out and jumped on the postman who dropped the parcel and run down the hill. Not a smart move as,unfortunately, Kurt interpreted it like an offer to play catch and run after the him.At the time Kurt was still young and not good on recall .That, plus the tasty appeal of the running postman to fetch had the best on his German sense of obedience and so he kept going ignoring me and my desperate calls.I had to run down the hill too .The scene the neighbors had in front of their amused eyes it was the postman running like flash chased by a giant dog with clapping big ears followed by a screaming woman laughing her head off because,in fairness,the situation was quite hilarious.Well,hilarious for everybody except the poor postman who now drop my post and sprint .
Back to this morning, I thought it was easier and safer for everybody if I waited in the car until the post was delivered. It is only four houses in the lane,ours included, and it wouldn’t have been a long wait. What I didn’t take in consideration was how long it would have felt because of all the barking echoing directly in my ears. Through the rear mirror I could see he was done and he was running back down the lane. He skipped our house but I didn’t worry,on the contrary, the last three days he only delivered bills!Actually,I soon realized to be wrong:he was not done and he was not leaving but he was coming closer and closer to my car. He finally reached my window and knocked. He had a registered letter I had to sign. I got out the car and while Kurt Clara abandoned herself to a mixture of barking and howling,Kurt stack his head out of the window and started to bark at the poor man whose mocking on the spot was getting more and more nervous. I signed as fast as I could and took everybody out of their misery.
An unexpected register post is never good news,at least not in this house where most of the time is a ticket for speeding or wild unauthorized parking. I checked the sender, it was not the ministry of transport, a good news in normal circumstances but the fact that it was coming from the “evil queen” (aka my late father’s wife)didn’t really make it necessarily good.Last time I received a registered post from her it costed me few grand and lots of stomach ache. Thankfully, sometimes, when a day starts glorious it continuos glorious and, sometimes, even the Italian revenues are glorious: It was the notification of a refund of taxes I am entitled as coheir.
The rest of the morning was uneventful a part from having the proof that we planted the strawberries on the right spot. Yes, Jessica Triepel,I planted strawberries, tomatoes,courgettes and cucunmber…something must end up on my table….sooner or later. (jessicatriepel.wordpress.com.Check her out,she is a fine writer not only a brilliant home grower). Last Sunday when we planted the strawberries it was late afternoon and I couldn’t remember if that spot of the garden was in full sun light or not. Yesterday the sun was nowhere to be seen but today, eventually, we had the proof that it is a sunny spot. Not that it would have been much difference if it was not: it is the only spot the dogs don’t go.
In the afternoon I am finally ready to sit down and write a little except,this is when my day really turned weird.
The dogs started to bark and I saw a huge fancy car coming up the road, it popped on my front path and parked pretty much in front of my living room window. The travelling husband car is on the driveway in front of the double gate, my car is parked on the road in front of the house and the big path leading to the main entrance is tidy and decorated with flowers pots and a cherry blossom tree,no cars.To me, everything says “private property” and ,most of all,”no parking”.Still incredulous I opened the window and I started to gesticulate at the occupants of the car. Them,2 mid-thirties fellas waved at me with a big greeting smile. They drove a bit further and stopped the engine.A bit less incredulous and a bit more upset I went out.They were still inside the car gathering together their phones and wallet. Eventually, they opened the car and made a move to get out: “Excuse me, this is private property”, I say. The driver looked at me top to toes and smiled from one ear to the other before going:”That is ok hon, we booked the 3 o cock slot.We have to meet a girl called Aine.”.Thousands of malicious thoughts and explanations crossed my little twisted mind until I finally replayed:”She is not here,it is the wrong address”.They both blushed :”Oh,it is not you? We thought you ….well you were waving at the window….”. Seriously?,”I was not waving at the window ,I was trying to ask you what the feck were you doing on my path?”,I barked.They had no clue of what was going on .I asked them the address they were meant to go,hoping by now they understood it was not mine and they were indeed at the wrong place.They checked a piece of paper and started,not very successfully,to whisper to each other.I could clearly hear what they were saying: “I told you it was a scam”,said the driver to the passenger.
Few minutes later my patience was pushed to the limit:”I’m still here and I can hear you so would you please tell me the address you have to go?May be I can help and you can move away from my property?”.
They gave me the address :once again there have been a mixed up between our estate and the house down the hill that share the same name……….,and all my old and regulars readers know what this means!