I had another rubbish week, recycling (or is it called ‘upcycling’) too for that matter.

Although at least this time I didn’t have to actually climb inside the rubbish bin. It was our summer programme launch and we combined it with our official ‘opening’ of the disabled lavatory, so it morphed from being a few people in the Stage Bar for drinks and canapes to hosting a summer ‘garden’ party outside the front of the theatre. But that meant a big clear-up because our builder wasn’t in on that particular day so I rolled up my sleeves, (figuratively speaking, because it was a baking hot summer Solstice day and I was wearing short sleeves) and set too.

Now there’s one thing I can definitely say, black trousers are the worst things to wear when it comes to anything dusty and builders’ dust is the worst sort of dust because it has cement, brick, polyfilla and any other sort of dust you care to mention. So by the time I had cleared the bags of rubbish, mortar, gravel and a few other builder’s bits, swept the walls, vacuumed (yes, vacuumed) the ground and swilled it down with buckets of water, I looked like I had done 10 rounds with Homepride’s Mr McDougall.

But it was definitely worth it, by the time Claire, our bar manager, and I had finished dressing the area with comfy chairs, tables and a few theatre props, it made the perfect welcome for all our guests. We soon had a happy throng of our Theatre Friends, volunteers, trustees and some local councillors and our VIP was local lady Kate Duncan who very kindly came along to cut the ribbon for our new loo.

What a perfect evening it turned out to be, despite my dusty appearance.

By the time everyone left it was after 8pm so just enough time for me to dash home and have a quick bite to eat before returning to the theatre to sort out some tech.

That wasn’t my only late night either. Who of you is a member of their school PTA? Chances are, if your children are primary school age, you play some sort of role in the PTA but when they move up to secondary you think you’ve done your fair share and breathe a sigh of relief at the thought of not having to hold fundraising events or agree to run a stall at the Christmas fete. Yep, me too, but I somehow found myself back on the committee and this week we held a second hand uniform sale for the up and coming Year 7 kiddy-winks.

You wear a badge of honour nowadays when it comes to rejecting the new in favour of the used and we made just over £200 as parents searched frantically for shirts, PE kit and blazers to fit their offspring at a fraction of the ‘new’ price.

The fantastic sunshine continued throughout the week and each day I brought in my swimming gear in the hope I could go swimming after work, but by the time the end of the day arrived the wind had picked up making the whole experience just a little less appealing.

I think the summer sun has melted my brain cells…Heaven help us, I have agreed my youngest son can have a dog. It’s been a bone of contention since they were old enough to see all their friends had dogs but we didn’t; we lived in rented so it was an accepted excuse that the landlord didn’t allow pets. But now we own our house. Trouble is he is choosing every kind of dog I won’t allow i.e big and hairy. I’ve been dreading coming home to a barrage of lists and bad temper when I say ‘no way’ to German Shepherds or Lurchers. I’ve been thinking along the lines of Jack Russels, my sister has one and we had one as a family pet when I was younger, they’re clever little things.

We went to look at a puppy on Saturday, it’s not a German Shepherd I’m pleased to say. Apparently Springer Spaniels are not blessed with a great deal of sense, that should suit us perfectly.

More rubbish, a garden party & a great hairy hound
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