Day 3 in the Big Brother House. Trapped in a cottage in the Highlands of Scotland. Its pouring with rain, it’s been pouring with rain for 3 days now. The road is like a river, the fields are like lochs, the lochs are like whirlpools and the river has burst it’s banks on both sides.
Inside the cottage we have 4 adults, 3 kids & 4 dogs with cabin fever.
Flora – half dog, half womble has concussion. As the storm roared last night she made a valiant attempt to jump onto our bed. It is incredibly high so on attempt 1 she bounced back onto the floor. Attempt 2 she didn’t gain as much height and so cannoned off the hard, solid wood of the base of the bed. I heard the dead drop of a mass of flesh and bones and honestly thought she had copped her whack. She lay there like a stone still until I picked her up and placed her on a rummled up pile of clothes where she lay still but breathing until this morning.
So it’s mid-day, the big dogs are sitting staring at us, willing us to take them out for a walk. The 2 small ones can’t be bothered. Flora is sitting staring into space with a glazed expression, Plum the pup has curled onto my lap hoping to sit completely still for the rest of the day. The wood burning stove is roaring and the Wii was taken out half an hour ago. Tracy the other grown woman here has just smashed the over head light with her over enthusiastic arm swing whilst trying to play Wii tennis. I am currently being hoovered as the shards of the light seem to have spread through the entire house including my hair.
I am gutted as were just ramping up to get stuck into the Marcus Wareing Chocolate brownies I made in anticipation of this very moment and had hidden for 3 days until they were at optimum stickiness. Lips licked I had just reached forward to get one to stuff into my face when Tracy walloped the light. After they finished me, they hoovered the brownies but despite this, some health and safety type individuals in our midst think that eating light bulb shards would really put a dampner on things and they should be binned As if things weren’t damp enough. Lily livered, namby pamby nonsense if you ask me.Shards or not, this beauty is going down my gullet.
We are re-enacting Iron Chef in here every night. 3 competitive cooks and 7 obsessed consumers. The results of which I will post tomorrow if one of us hasn’t come a cropper with a sharp knife or a sliver of light bulb glass. Tempers are frayed. So I’m off to marinate my venison ironically as the field outside is full of wet deer looking hungry, sad, cold and wet. Let’s hope they don’t get a whiff of what’s in the pot for tonight or they may turn nasty. Dear dear deer.