Tap-Dancing Hooves and Migraines

So it's nearly 4am on Friday, not my usual blogging hour, or waking hour for that matter. But I figured that seeing as I'm suffering from a little migraine based sleep deprivation I'd get up and share with you the events of yesterday and the sitcom that became my life.

Duffle, you've been with us for 3 days and already had the whole family, nay street, in fits!

So yesterday morning, as per Thursday usual, I'm up at the fruit and veg co-op and the girls are taking the mickey out of me as usual for the sheer volume of fruit and veg we consume in our house. I'm particularly ravenous yesterday morning as, I explain to the girls, I've had a migraine hanging about. Migraines come from stomachs, and I've been having some slightly odd food cravings as my body tries to process whatever it is that's giving me the migraine. So I scoff even more fruit the second it comes off the delivery van than usual, while remarking that I may actually have worms because of the obsession I have with food at the moment.

So after the co-op, I go home and announce that I'm not going out on the mountain as I need to catch up on the housework, and, being food obsessed, I was going to cook a carrot and onion thick soup and a veggie curry, then give some to Ms Brooks when I dropped her order off later.

I get cracking on the top floor of housework and I'm starting to notice my headache coming back. I try to ignore it and move on, so I'm peeling some veggies to part cook for my curry and I start to feel a bit ropey. 5 minutes after the veggies are in the steamer, I very quickly realize that I have a choice. Either give in to the migraine and get to bed or pass out and throw up. Little lights flashing around the sides of my eyes, stomach cramps , the lot.

So I quickly text the world to let them know not to disturb me as I'm not feeling very well and to get them to make sure I'm up in time for work at half seven. Was touch and go at that moment I was feeling so ropey.

So I get into bed, having taken a shed load of painkillers and some kaolin and morphine, and I'm lying still in bed for fear of hurling, wearing nothing but my socks and bra. I was intending putting my pyjamas on but I got the shakes, so I got in part dressed. Lush.

It then became apparent that the light was bothering me, so I got a pair of Hubby's (clean) pants out of the drawer and draped them over my eyes. Much better. But the smell of the part cooked cauli from the kitchen was threatening to have me pebble dash my own duvet cover, so up I got again, found the Vick's, and slapped a wodge under my nose. God, my Hubby's a lucky man. So sexy.

As is usual for me with migraines, I'm finding it hard to power down my brain ready for the re-boot, so I resort to sheep counting and pretending it's a cold wet Tuesday morning and I have to get up in order to drop off to re-boot sleep, and I finally manage it after ages.

And then within 5 minutes of dropping off, you know when you just get that sense that something is awry and needs your urgent attention?

So up I shoot and straight to the bedroom window that looks over onto our mountain. What sight do I behold as I gaze out into the sun? Hubby has gone out, leaving Duffle tethered up at the top of the mountain, and the little get is currently tap dancing on the bonnet of my car. You couldn't make it up.

So I'm stood there in my bizarre partial attire, still with the pants on my head and the Vick's up my nose trying to take in the sight and re format my faulty brain into action to do something about the little routine being performed before my very eyes.

At that point I can hear than my next door neighbours are laughing their heads off and sending one of their kids around to tell me what's going on. Meg has passed out on the sofa, having undertaken and art and history marathon, and I can hear her blaspheming down stairs about the poxy goat waking her up now too, so I dash down and she asks me what she has to do to get the hooves off the now roof of my car.

I instruct her that she has to take his lead further down the mountain to by his house. I know the old adage - when you "presume" you "make an ass out of u and me" but I PRESUMED that she wouldn't unhook said goat from said lead, unfortunately, my instructions weren't specific enough, and Duffle is off like a shot down the lane with half of the street following him at high speed.

The newly awoken Meg springs into action in her leopard print slippers and manages to get a lead on all the other runners and wannabe riders while I look on, slightly furious, I don't mind telling you, with Hubby for interrupting my re-boot sleep with goat based antics, but at the same time unable to resist the hilarity of the situation. I've still got the pants on my head etc, by the way.

So I shoot back upstairs to get dressed so that I can help, but I'm not sure if Meg has keys, her phone was on the sofa so I couldn't find out where she was to help, so I had an agonizing 10 minute wait past this point and some annoyed phone calls with Hubby who couldn't help but fall about laughing.

Eventually, after what felt like 15 hours, hubby pulls up in the car and just As he's getting out, one of our puffing and blowing neighbours comes around the corner and exclaims that "she's got it!" fairly closely followed by the goat-hating teenager with Duffle trotting along nicely feeling rather pleased with himself, surrounded by a blue cloud of cursing, panting and swearing from Meg, so Steve gets him on one of the dogs leads and reins him home.

The little get ran nearly all the way to Llanhilleth, well over a mile.

You can imagine it now, can't you? In pubs and at dinner tables all over the valleys yesterday evening "Hey love, you never guess what I saw today? I was driving down the main road from Swffryd to Llan and there was this girl in leopard print slippers chasing a goat with a red collar on down the side of the road! I've never seen anything like it in my life!"

I've got quite attached to the hoof prints on my windscreen now.