I am sitting outside on our area of decking, making the most of what feels like it will be the last of the warm summer sunshine. I love autumn but I will miss throwing the double doors open and having that fresh air smell... here that sometimes means whiffy fertiliser from the fields, but more pleasantly the smell of freshly mown grass and the feint waft of freshly cut wheat.
If only life was that simple. We have teenage woes and other issues to contend with at the moment, mainly of the Father and Daughter battleground variety. That ugly 'you're not my Father anyway' sentence has reared it's ugly head again. It's a great shame because we have more common ground than ever these days. You'd think that cricket would have united us all. Three of us now play and the remaining one remains, well, obsessed with the game.
I played my last game of the season last night, along with Ella. I wish I had plucked up the courage earlier in the year but at least I have next year to look forward to. Unfortunately the game ended in pain, probably the worst pain I've had since breaking my foot two years ago. It wasn't completely down to cricket. I had bravely tackled the hell hole that was Jake's bedroom yesterday and slightly pulled a muscle whilst reaching under the bed with the Hoover nozzle. It hurt at the time but soon eased off and I managed a practice batting session with only a slight twinge or two. During our warm up session I reached forward to catch a short ball and it just gave way. Ouch. Drat that hurt. If I'd known then what I know now about pulled muscles I would have pulled out. We batted first and I hobbled in, whacked a four on my first ball, knocked a single too but then had to keep running singles and bys, which was getting more and more painful. Luckily I whacked a ball straight in the air for a catch and I hopped off. Despite the pain I wasn't aiming for a catch, I was trying to knock it way over their heads but it didn't come off (not as strong in the arms as I used to be!).
I couldn't run during fielding but stayed on in case a catch came my way. By the time we left I was in severe pain. Ice packs helped a lot and I slept like a log but today it feels like its wound taut and that it has been kicked by a large horse. Nothing for it but to make a large mug of tea and sit down with some crochet!
I have to laugh at my cricket debut (after 29 years). I have ended up with a finger that still won't fully bend, a swollen ankle (hasn't gone down after a week), a large graze on my chin from a bouncer during practice session, an aching jaw from the same bouncer and now a pulled thigh muscle. I remain determined not to write myself off as too old (43) especially as a woman has just completed her Cuba to Florida swim on the fifth attempt at the age of 64. Roll on next year!!
So, I'm bored with all my current wips. Jake's blanket is now something I wish I had planned more carefully. Up and down, up and down. Yawn. I'm nearly done with the front section of a knitting project but heck, knitting hurts, so that's on the back burner. I'm just toying with some random block designs today, trying to think of something that will use up all the shades of grey that I bought for mouse making (three mice was enough repetition thank you). As it happens I love grey but I don't love lots of colour changes and weaving in ends. Tempting to make a blanket with all the ends loose on the back. Yeah I know, that's just lazy.
Talking of which, I think it is time I showed Jake how to make a cup of tea for his ol' Mum!