The last two weeks have been complete mayhem, so much going on, ah where to begin?
Well, it all started when I was quietly minding my own business and going about my housework, suddenly I heard something hit the window, and immediately shouted at the children, who were hurling balls at one another, to mind the windows. I went to inspect the damage, and to my complete surprise, found this little darling unconscious on the floor.
A kingfisher! This silly young thing had flown into the window at such speed that he knocked himself out cold. Kingfishers, I am sure, are a rare sight at the best of times, we occasionally catch a glimpse of their vivid blue plumage as they flit across the lake, but to see one up close, THIS CLOSE, was quite a magnificent sight.
Poor Mr Kingfisher was in a sorry state, he sat quietly, cupped in Simon's big strong hands without even so much as a flutter of his wings.
It is not the first time we have had a bird in hand under much the same circumstances, country life delivers all manner of creatures into our home, and over the months we have had swallows, blue tits and bats, amongst many things, all render themselves unconscious after flying head first into our windows.
They normally always recover their composure after a few minutes and fly back to wherever it is they came from, but Mr Kingfisher stayed put.
Simon thought it would be a good idea to carry him closer to the lake where he might recognise his surroundings better and fly away. No sooner had we reached the lakes bank Mr Kingfisher took off, one gloriously high swoop before he fell, with great speed, right into the water! He kind of half sunk, half floated, Simon quickly fetched the boat, which was perilously close to sinking on account of being full of rain water, and heroically set out to rescue Mr Kingfisher from drowning.
Back on safe ground, Mr Kingfisher sat, once again, quietly in Simon's hands. After much time had passed and darkness began to draw in, we decided to make a wee nest for Mr Kingfisher and pop him in a nearby tree where he could recover in peace. An old plastic plant pot stuffed with hay and dry grass cuttings was positioned carefully and Mr Kingfisher nestled gently on top. Ambear and Hoozel trooped back and forth from house to tree, in pyjamas and wellington boots, diligent in their self-appointed nursing duties, to check on Mr Kingfisher at regular intervals, eventually, as the sun went down, off they went to bed, chatting excitedly about their new avian friend.
I returned to my housework and Simon to the Football on tv, when Mr Pip alerted us to the imminent arrival of Minnu's kittens. He was busy giving her a monkey nibble (this weird affectionate nibbling thing he does to loved ones) and generally paying her too much attention, we quickly realised her panting was due to labour and not Pips amorous chomping at her neck, and were all, once again, on tenterhooks the entire evening.
The first kitten popped out and into the world at midnight, and I was awake all night beside Minnu, as she pushed out two more wee bundles of fluff, the last being at 8am the next morning, when Ambear was excitedly awaiting it's arrival, an incident which did much to answer my inquisitive 8 year olds questions about my own imminent labour - though it took some explaining as to why humans are not born in sacks and mum's don't hungrily start chomping on the placenta!
By now I was dog tired and took myself to bed, no sooner had I settled down to sleep I heard the hounds making a racket, and thus discovered them moments later, attached at the groin after obviously enjoying some humpy time. We had not even been aware that Nala was in season, and planned to get her spayed before Pip came of age, but he quite literally, pipped us at the post! Two weeks on from this very hectic 24 hours of injured birds, birthing cats and humping dogs, we now wait with baited breath for Nala's vet appointment to find out if she is pregnant, and we have three very cute little bundles of kitten to occupy us in the meantime!
I should add, that Mr Kingfisher was not in his new nest the following morning, and we have regularly spotted that blaze of blue darting back and forth across the lake, so can safely assume he recovered and returned to his own abode!
During my absence I have also been back to England, to take the dreaded Driving Theory test. My approach to study and revision is somewhat haphazard, and so no one was more surprised than me when I passed with flying colours! So, I am now a driver in theory, and will be returning to the UK again soon to take my practical driving test.
I am no longer able to ride my bicycle on account of my bump having skewed my balance. I must also accept the idea that once the bump is deflated and replaced by a screaming bundle of cuteness, that cycling is not going to be much of a daily occurance anyway (and I don't much fancy one of those strange pram contraptions that attach to the rear end of a bicycle), so driving a car, after many years of having happily travelled on foot, is suddenly looking like a rather attractive prospect, since I would be lucky to reach my neighbours on foot in one morning, let alone the local shops.
All my adult life I have walked, cycled or braved the perils and filth of public transport to get from A to B, but rural France demands a car, and a car I will have, all in good time.
Of course, cars tend not to deliver themselves unto your doorstep, there is no magic wand to be waved that miraculously alerts you as to the perfect vehicle for you, and so the search has begun, and my god how boring is finding a car?!
My first choice was a vintage Morris Minor, Simon pointed out, that since I am soon to be a mother of 3 sproglets, a vintage car is perhaps not the most practical or reliable choice. I stewed about this for a few days, really I did, I mean, have you seen Morris Minors? They are so cute, and charming, and I dare say, SO ME.
Alas, Simon said I will not be allowed a pale blue polka dotted Morris Minor (it would have to be polka dotted of course!), and that I really ought to consider a proper MUM car, like say, a Citroen Xsara Picasso, yawwwwwwwwn, or dare I even say it, a Renault Espace - if I WERE a practical person then I would be inclined to agree, alas I am not, I am most impractical, and being mother to 3 children before I am 30 will probably not change that, at least I am fighting, with all my wrath, against it, for now at least, perhaps I can compromise.....
I wonder what a Xsara Picasso would look like with Polka Dots?
Anyways, I am now moving into my third trimester of pregnancy, I am heavy, BIG and oh so cumbersome, the blisteringly hot weather is somewhat hard to bare and once again I can feel that dreaded fatigue closing in on me, I need to start sewing, and fast!
On a final note, my lovely wonderful friend Sena, has just started her own blog, be a darling and go and take a peek, she is a super sweet gal and has a super sweet new blog to match! By The Blue Grass.
