Has it really been about three-and-a-half years since I last posted? That is both far too long and rather disconcerting - how quickly time goes by in the idiomatic blink of an eye.
So that I can catch you up with the flock it is probably more efficient to tell you which GPs we still have, rather than go into detail of who we have lost along the way. We now have just five GPs, namely Scruffy (Swiss), Leonard (Coronette), Fozzy (Peruvian), Dave (Short-hair) and, the official family favourite, Fluffy (Peruvian).
Since we last had any correspondence, dear reader, my family and I have moved house. We now have a larger garden that is predominantly grass, something more to everyone's liking considering we previously had a gravel ‘lawn’. When the weather is better than at present (extremely wet and windy in the UK) then the GPs can run around and stuff themselves with whatever takes their fancy but, and if you’ve read my previous posts you’ll understand why, lawn-access is timeshare only to avoid old scores being settled. Times are good.
Our GPs live outside but, before you complain that has been known to (on occasion) get cold and wet in the UK, I should let you know that their accommodation has been substantially upgraded. Some background - I work for a technology company and my manager has previously somehow managed to see through my elaborate ruse to convince him that I’m a workshy layabout. He insisted that I received a bonus after a very busy year’s work and, despite my protestations to the contrary (oh alright, I snatched it out of his hands), I found some extra money sitting in my account one day.
Now, I have two children so my thoughts obviously turned to getting them something that they would enjoy. It just so happens that a two-storey, wooden garden playhouse would fit just such a requirement. This was promptly procured, delivered, constructed (with a few naughty words being uttered) and much enjoyed (for a time) at our previous home. However, let me tell you of the largest phobia shared by both my offspring - spiders. Granted, the UK has very (very) few animals that would do a person any real harm and spiders just really aren’t one of them. However, phobias are what they are and within a few months, after seeing the myriad of different Arachnids that enjoyed spending time in the warm, dry building that had now appeared in their territory, despite my wife and I cleaning on a frequent basis, the playhouse fell into disuse. No amount of convincing would yield the desired result of returning life to the miniature enclave near the back fence.
Being a man in the prime of life (ahem) I initially started to get thoughts of a ‘man-cave’, complete with flat-screen TV and mini-fridge. However, enjoyable as it was to contemplate, albeit briefly, that would have been impractical for so many reasons. The playhouse fell silent until we moved, where it would undergo a transformation and become a desirable residence for new tenants of the squeaking and furry disposition.
Fast forward to a point when all of the boxes have been unpacked and I’m staring at a completely disassembled playhouse sitting in a pile on the lawn. I had ideas but, let me assure you, this was not going to be any great architectural endeavour. With the assistance of my lovely wife, a selection of power tools and good-old fashioned hard work, we managed to get the side walls and roof upright without too much effort. However, we were reducing the width by about 40% (to ensure that it didn’t take up too much room) so there was a lot of sawing in front of us, together with the liberal application of nails, in order to get a bespoke structure that didn’t look like it would resemble a witch’s shack from a child’s fairy-tale. Once we had achieved a reasonably aesthetically pleasing facade we continued on and divided the height into three. This was so that the lower third was allocated to the storage of supplies, sawdust, straw, hay, etc. and both of the other thirds could be used by pairs of GPs; our thinking being that this would isolate them from any cold arising from the ground. By the end of the day we had achieved something we could be proud off. We had successfully repurposed the playhouse into a very luxurious hutch where we could keep four residents warm and well catered.
Now, you may remember from the start that we have five GPs, yet I’ve just informed you that four are securely accommodated in the high-rise structure at the end of the garden. So, where exactly where does the remaining GP spend his days? Well, Dave and Fozzy had previously lived in the two-story hutch that we had brought with us, and both Fluffy and Patch shared the penthouse in the newly-constructed des-res. The peace and harmonious living arrangement was not to last long and a battle was about to rage on the lawn of a simple suburban house...
