Travel Reference
In-Depth Information
for at least six months to be fair, but the first night of Natalie's absence seemed a particularly
fraught time to try and prove the point.
And then there was Thérence. Thérence, since I had got back, was having the kind of
diarrhoea that makes a cat with the Normandy Beach landings in its stomach look healthy but
also, on the first evening, he had to be carried back from the trampoline by a head-bandaged
Samuel because he'd 'twisted his knee'.
'How do you know he's twisted his knee?' I asked sceptically.
'He fell and then couldn't walk properly on the trampoline,' Samuel replied, slightly hurt that
I was suspicious of his diagnosis.
'Nobody walks properly on a trampoline!' I laughed. 'Put him down. Come to Daddy,
Thérence, walk to Daddy.'
A beaming smile crossed his face, as he staggered two or three steps and then collapsed into
a tearful heap. Have you ever had a two-year-old limp towards you? It's like watching a 3D
TV charity appeal.
'He's twisted his knee!' I shouted.
'I know!' Samuel shouted back.
So, let's recap. The dogs were confirmed basket cases, the horses angrier than ever, the hens
were on strike. I'd apparently lost one cat while another seemed to be able to turn itself in-
side out. Thérence could no longer walk, Samuel looked like he'd been hit with an axe and
Maurice was quite possibly on the verge of a deep psychological setback.
Natalie had been away less than thirty-six hours.
In hindsight it was probably a good thing that the first few days of Natalie's absence were
so chaotic, it meant that nothing, absolutely nothing, could faze me for the rest of the week.
Every morning I awoke, tired yes, but in a state of heightened awareness; I was beyond do-
mestic goddess now, I was a domestic ninja.
The animals, after a while, mostly stopped playing up. They had a couple of days treating
me like a wet-behind-the-ears supply teacher, but then realised that actually I run a tight ship
and won't put up with any nonsense. The hens stopped scuttling their own eggs, Toby stayed
downstairs at night, Ultime got bored of pushing me around in her field and Pierrot even
stopped peeing in his bed at night and spent the rest of the week relieving himself in Toby's
bed during the day instead.
Only the ringleader, Junior, decided to carry on the fight, but was increasingly isolated as his
support dwindled, which only made him angrier; he'd come marching up to me in his field,
snorting away like a bluff old colonel, but then curiously run out of steam and actually avoid
eye contact with me.
Of course, and Natalie made this very clear in the lists (and lists) of instructions that she had
left for me, taking care of the animals is more than just keeping them fed and watered. There
is the endless, and I really mean endless, cleaning up. Natalie's days were often spent in a per-
