The Not-So-Relaxing Soak!

This Blip is dedicated to Bob, my poor husband, who has spent the day digging enormous holes in the almost solid limestone on which our garden is created. He did this because we lost four fence posts in the recent gales and we needed to replace them. Now I'm not joking when I say our garden is basically six inches of top soil over solid stone. We live in an old quarrying area and our house is built on top of a limestone ridge. The only reason the previous fence posts snapped off was because they were over twenty years old and had rotted through at their bases.

So my hero has valiantly pick-axed and dug, and dug, and pick-axed and sworn and cemented and cemented and sworn, in roughly equal proportions, from first light this morning until last light tonight.

I felt he deserved a reward and I ran him a very very deep bubble bath and poured him a glass of wine and heard his blissful sigh as he slipped into the deliciously warm water. His state of bliss lasted...oooooh...maybe 45 seconds tops.

There is an unwritten rule of parental baths that no matter where your children are and whatever they are doing (and both of ours were at the other end of the house happily engrossed in their own projects: H, building a Lego construction and Noah buiding a train track) at the first sniff of bubble bath they will hunt you down and insist on shattering your sanctuary. First it was H, who declared that his muscles were aching after "...sooooo much gymnastics today" and a soak in the bath was "...just what I need daddy". Shortly after he was followed by Noodles, who just wanted to be where the action was really, and would have dived in fully clothed if I hadn't grabbed him in the nick of time.

So this is poor Bob, enjoying a (not-so) relaxing soak in a deep bubble bath while the two mini-Bobs compete (noisily) to see who can cover each other with bubbles first. Noah won.