Having just disposed of the flies, we now appear to have a wasps’ nest in the old extractor fan shaft. Home ownership is so trying.
Mr. Waffle bought foam, a mask and a boiler suit and sprayed the wasps. Now they may well be dead. The smell of insecticide foam has invaded our kitchen. Would you say that is good?
We are going on holidays tomorrow (East Cork, West Kerry, try to keep up) and as well as packing (v. traumatic), I decided that I would empty the fridge of food likely to go off. I found that we have, inter alia, smoked salmon, two eggs, a packet of sausages and most of a roast chicken as well as half a birthday cake which the children and Mr. Waffle made for the childminder. I told my loving husband that we would have a picnic tomorrow on our way to Cork. I asked him to go to the attic to get down the tasteful wicker picnic basket which we received as a wedding present but he demurred on the grounds that our luggage is already so extensive (two large bags, several smaller bags, buckets, spades, balls, hurleys, swing ball etc.) that it would hardly fit.
Contemplating my fridge findings, I decided chicken, stuffing and mayonnaise sandwiches would be nice. This is why just moments ago at 23.30, I was whisking oil and egg yolk (one egg slipped from my nervous grasp) in the insecticide foam infected kitchen. I may well be losing my mind.
Anyway, we’re off for a fortnight and posting will be limited. I’ll tell you all about it when I get back. There’s something for you to look forward to.
