Weekend work

It's been a busy weekend. The Boy volunteered to come and help us, although frankly, despite the best will in the world (when he wasn't playing Lego Star Wars) he was more hindrance than help.

But if you want beer brought to you without even having to ask, he is your boy.

It has been fun. The Boy arrived on Friday and we had a barbeque. It was nice enough that we could eat outside, and we decided to have kebabs.

The Baron had lamb kebabs with peppers, the Boy had pork kebabs with celery (I was sceptical, but it was really rather good) and I had prawn kebabs with courgette and pepper. We all had salad and barbequed flatbreads with houmous.

The Boy was in charge of painting each kebab with secret sauce (so-called because I refused to tell the Boy what it was for years because he would have refused to eat it - all it is is good tomato ketchup with a generous splash of tobasco sauce) whilst I made the bread and houmous.

The Baron was in charge of the fire. Literally. As is his wont, he created a towering inferno. It is an impressive site, guaranteed to have Lila cowering behind the wheelbarrow, and the Boy is now convinced that all barbeques should be so dramatic. To the point that when he sees other people tending theirs, he shakes his head sadly and mutters that there isn't enough fire to cook anything.

Poor warped child.

The Boy was his little cooking sidekick, proudly insisting that he was being manly. I wasn't so impressed when he told me that since I was a woman I couldn't cook the food over the barbeque because it was a man's job, however, so after a brief discussion on equality he ran and got me another beer and a flower.

It was good enough for me.

The next day was gardening day. We nipped out to pick up a few bits and pieces, and because both the Boy and the Baron spent so long lusting over PC games when we went to look at a new keyboard, we ended up in Pizza Hut for lunch.

I may have mentioned before that the Baron and the Boy have a similar mental age.

So whilst I did the grown up thing of actually getting a table and menu, they were cajoling another waitress to let them have a handful of helium balloons. They must have really turned on the charm because they both strutted over with a couple of balloons apiece.

Last time the three of us went out, it was Christmas and the Baron inhaled helium and serenaded me with a squeaky rendition of a crappy Robbie Williams song. I don't really like Robbie Williams at the best of times, and his waste of space brother had Angels as the first wedding dance back in Ireland (something I could happily never think about again until the day I die) but the helium treatment certainly gave it something.

This time, he treated me to Grace Kelly by Mika. It was different. And completely hysterical. I recorded it on his mobile phone, so rest assured, I will be inflicting it upon you all very soon.

The Boy doesn't get inhaling helium. He lets the gas out in his mouth, but doesn't shut his mouth to suck down on the balloon. So it barely works. That doesn't stop him faking a very high pitched voice though........and for the record, he cannot sing. Not a note.

After more pizza than we probably should have eaten, we headed home to commence Operation Finish The Garden So Star Wars Lego (The Original Trilogy) Can Be Installed And Played.

I've previously mentioned the extreme change in our front garden. The heavy work is all done, and all that remained was for me to plant out the seedlings currently filling the conservatory.

This is what I planted out:

Tomatoes (five different varieties)
Peppers (two different varieties)
Carrots (two different varieties)
Runner beans
Dwarf green beans
Peas
Garlic
Sweetcorn
Pumpkin
Butternut squash
Courgettes
Mint
Basil
Rosemary
Strawberries
Lettuce (two varieties)
Cabbage
Parsnips
Winter greens
The Dreaded Brussel Sprouts (for my Mum)

I forgot about starting the leeks and artichokes off, but I still have time.

The Baron was working in the back garden.

Because, of course, we then decided to redo our dog destroyed back garden. Not content with a week of back breaking labour in the front garden, we hired a skip and did the same to the back.

The Boy desiginated himself as Team Captain. Because he got bored with digging after approximately two minutes and forty seconds, he took to whipping us with his deflated helium balloon and telling us we weren't putting our backs in to it.

However, he did have a benevolent streak. He allowed us to take five pretty much every ten minutes and kept us well hydrated with water, beer and diet coke.

It became clear that the two of us, with the hindrance of the Boy was not going to be enough to complete the heavy work over the weekend. So it was time to call in reinforcements.

We had a little Garden Breaking Party with the bribe of beer and a barbeque. However, the only people up for it were my computer obsessed (and therefore no help at all) mad mother and my hernia ridden father.

Still some help is always better than no help. We gratefull accepted and got on with it.

And we did it! We must have moved several tonnes of soil, dog crap and stones over the weekend, and we are all paying for it now (I walk like the newly created Darth Vader), but it is done!

We had a little celebration after, with lots of beer from my recent France trip and another nice barbeque (note to self - whilst the Baron goes overboard on coal, my father tends to the other direction. Sneak more on when he isn't looking otherwise the food will never cook).

Later this afternoon, once I get back from work, we will be buggering around with cement and laying the replacement slabs (many were broken because of the old pond). I'm quite looking forward to that.

I don't think the Baron is. He doesn't seem quite with it today. I just wandered into our bedroom to get a bottle of water, and I saw Frankie on the windowsill, sunning himself and admiring the bugs.

"Hey Stein! How are you doing, Mister FrankieCat?"

From the bed, I heard a distinct

"I'm fine. How are you?"

I think the heavy work has addled his brain to the point he thinks he is a cat.