We do suffer for our art don’t we ladies.

Well here we are in October and yesterday was the first time that Trixy was able to come out and play. It has been a long time but there have been a host of reasons in the tumultuous year that is 2020. Along with pandemics and lock downs the main reason for the lack of Trixy time was that my son, his partner and two young children were living with us. Well they recently found a house of their own and moved out a few weeks ago, so lots of Trixy time yes, not so fast young lady.

Due to the pandemic my wife is only working one day a week, one day a week is better than none I hear you say, unfortunately her working day coincides with our one remaining live in son’s day off so boohoo no Trixy time

So yesterday was a special day, it is school holidays here at the bottom of the world and my wife has taken my granddaughter on a road trip to stay on a family dairy farm to help with the calving.

So, yippee Trixy and I have the house to ourselves for a whole week, well in theory.

My wife decided to organize some renovation work to be carried out on out poolside deck while she is away so someone will be working outside most days of the week.

As that someone is a family friend, I cannot just hid Trixy in the house while he is working as he will expect a regular supply of tea.

Over a Sunday dinner and a bottle of port I ascertained from my friend that he didn’t think he would start the work until Wednesday, as my wife would be leaving early Tuesday morning, I saw a small window of opportunity for Trixy time.

Calm before the storm

There was a small chance that my friend would start the work early so I had to plan for such an eventuality. I planned my Trixy day with military precision, I compiled an emergency kit of make-up cleanser, nail polish remover boys’ cloths towels etc. and secreted it in the upstairs bathroom thereby providing a safe space should I be disturbed. Well after a few hours upstairs as Trixy I was increasingly confident that I would not be disturbed and moved the base of operations down stairs.

All was going well until, during a costume change in the downstairs bedroom, our dogs started going ballistic, barking wildly at something or some one at the back door. Assuming the worst I panicked and ran (OK moved as quickly as a girl in four-inch heels can) towards the stairs with the intention of reaching the safety of the bathroom and my emergency pack. I was stopped in my tracks by the voice of my builder friend’s wife’s outside on the deck, realizing that to get to the stairs I would be exposed to anyone standing on the deck, I quickly retreated to the bedroom.

Now I must explain that our house is on the edge of a reserve which is popular with walkers and hikers and my friends wife who was now standing on the deck, regularly walks by our house with her friend and on occasions stops to use the bathroom or for a coffee. As I cowered in our walk-in wardrobe, I heard the two ladies discussing why no one was at home (she had forgotten that my wife was going away) as they walked around the house, they eventual gave up and left I do hope they were able to find a toilet.

While still recovering from the shock of potential discovery I found that the battery in my camera was kaput, not just flat but kaput, bringing a premature end to the photo shoot.

Killer Heels

I spent the rest of the day just relaxing as Trixy drinking coffee watching TV and basically having a wonderful day.

As I said earlier it had been over ten months since Trixy was allowed out which meant one’s feet were a little out of condition as regards to stiletto heels. At the end of the wonderful day my feet and calves were begging for mercy but the pain was a happy pain, that was until I played golf the following day. The thought of explaining to my buddies that the reason for my dip in performance towards the end of the round was due to my sore toes and cramping calf muscles from wearing very high heels for seven hours the previous day.