Too Early to Possibly Comment

8.30am and I’m exhausted. The rabble descended the stairs from the top floor in the relative darkness that was 5.30am. Daddy joined them on the downward journey to the ground floor – screams could be heard. The dogs, once released from a closed living room door, bolted up the stairs in order to prowl around the bed and rouse me to the fully awake mode, before trying their luck and pouncing up to join me on the bed. I shoo’d them off (is shoo’d a real word?) and I tried to sleep once again, knowing that the task was highly unlikely. The hounds tried their luck once again, I gave in and just lay there. I could make out the children chanting at daddy ‘porridge, porridge, porridge’. I knew my slumber was at an end…

In the semi light I tried to clothe myself. The dogs were milling around my feet as they do, making it impossible to pick up my socks, trousers and tee shirt. I pushed them away, they were back within a moment, though I had managed to pluck my trousers and a sock from the floor. This continued for another few minutes until I managed to dress whilst wriggling about on the bed. I then made the bed, struggled to the bathroom and cleaned my teeth, washed my face etc.

I got to the stairs, the dogs beside. Down a few steps and Remus rushes between my legs. Another few steps and he rushes through again! It’s a game we sometimes play. But at this early hour! ‘Porridge, porridge, porridge’ could still be heard below. The kitchen, a complete mess, the living room, a complete mess’ – welcome to my morning…

Twenty minutes later after having ‘tidied up’ with little, if no help, I began to make the porridge, in amongst the shouts and activities of the children. Daddy was calmly relaxing on the sofa with his iPad. Emails or candy crush I was wondering, completely oblivious to the marauding crew around him.

Goldilocks would have glutton’d this morning. What was a very large pan, filled to the brim with porridge was soon emptied, alongside the final jar of Dadda’s home grown, homemade, raspberry jam (seeded). We had to break into a blackberry cider jam in order to wash down the last of the porridge. Don’t worry, no alcohol, but made with a reduction of cider vinegar. Great sounding name, but not enough cider flavouring! I will have to work on the ingredients in order to perfect the harmony of flavours.

Well, that’s all for now. Just heading for the Nespresso machine.

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A Gay Dad reflecting on life in the Shires of England with my not so famous five and two rapscallion Dalmatian hounds

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