The Pole Renovacy Chapter 9

Chapter 9

This is based on Hi-de-Hi’s gift to me from the Holiday Gift Exchange. House here: https://www.thesims3.com/assetDetail.html?assetId=9351043 And family here: https://www.thesims3.com/assetDetail.html?assetId=9351042

“What do you think we should do next?”
“Play Frisbee!”
“Well actually, I meant with the house.” “A bathroom, a bathroom! I know that outdoor one works, but I don’t like the spiders!”
“Bathroom it is, then. Where do you think we should build it? I don’t really want the bathroom door opening off the kitchen.” “How about this side of the house? If we found somewhere else to put the cot?” May suggested.
Tad nodded his approval. “That could well work. We’ll do some measuring and I’ll show you how to draw up a scale plan. It’s a bit like a dolls’ house but only on paper. And we’ll make paper cut-outs for the cot and my bed and so on and arrange them on the paper. And then we’ll find out what it will cost! And if we can afford it”
“Shall I play with Ice then, while you do some more drawings?”
“No, we’ll play Frisbee first. I need the practice. You’re getting too good!” May was getting good. That Frisbee flew for her now. And he did need the practice. May laughed with delight as he missed the catch. Served him right for taking his mind off the game! School started again tomorrow and he hadn’t heard back from Miss Chandler. May be she was too cross with him to accept his apology. Should he write again? But what else could he say that he hadn’t already said? And maybe she was going to send a message home with May. He’d wait a little longer.
“Come on, butterfingers,” May called. “Get on with the game!”
She sounded like a normal happy child now, Tad realised. All that whininess and “But Daddy…” whinging had gone. And her happiness lifted Tad’s spirits as well.
“Just you wait,” he called back. “That was just a blip.” May was as good as her word and played happily with Ice, while Tad got on with his next series of sketches. He’d actually had an order from one of the other parents, for some pictures for a new baby’s bedroom. Maybe – after the bathroom – he’d be able to afford an easel, oils and canvas again. And now school had started and it was just him and Ice again. He was missing May, he realised, rather than feeling relieved that she was out of the house. He went to drop the old newspaper in the bin and saw that the flag was up on the mailbox. Bills? Junk mail? That was all that came these days. He lifted the flap and peered inside. One of the envelopes was a proper letter. Tad opened it carefully and began to read.
“Dear Mr Pole,
I’m so sorry I didn’t reply earlier. I was away for the whole of the holidays, in Australia at a friend’s wedding, and so I only found your letter when I got back…I am so sorry for what I said. That must have been so painful for you…I’m not surprised you were so angry…”
Tad stood rooted to the spot after he’d read Miss Chandler’s letter. Twice.
She had totally accepted his apology, read between the lines of its slightly stiff formality. And she hadn’t excused herself or blamed May. Not at all. And yet this had been May’s fault, really. And she’d recognised how he must have felt. He turned the flag down on the mailbox and went back into the house to see what Ice was up to. He felt mildly stunned, but he didn’t know why. Buying an easel was going to have to wait a while longer! He was going to have to stick with sketches for now. But the house had been transformed.
It did help that they were building with an easy material. “No problem,” the builders had said when Tad had asked how about a door here, how about moving these windows? The bathroom was inside!
“No more spiders!” said May with joy. And from the front, the house looked neat too. New front door – and back door – that was what they needed next. After that, the easel. Tad actually had a bedroom – and had it to himself – at last. And so did Ice. A bit bare at the moment, but they’d add to it. Maybe May could draw a picture for him. And they had an indoor bathroom, with a bath as well. Tad had almost forgotten how nice soaking in a bath actually was. In for a penny, in for a pound, Tad had thought, and the kitchen had been upgraded too with extra cupboards. Now that he was trying out new recipes, he needed a few more pans and bowls. And tonight was one of those new recipe nights. They’d caught the fish themselves – now let’s see if he could make a meal out of it. “What do you think? Did I win?”
“Mmm, I think so,” May said. “Three-one to you.”
“Three-one? It’s four-one now, I’m sure…If not five-one!” “May! Do your homework!” Tad barked in his best drill-sergeant impersonation.
“Aye aye Cap’n,” May said, saluting and trying not to giggle. She was really enjoying scouts.
“No slacking now! Just because it’s nearly the end of term…”
“End of year,” May said mournfully. “I hope next year’s teacher is as nice as Miss Chandler. It’s going to be someone new…I mean, yes, Sir! No slacking, Sir!” Now she was definitely giggling. She sat down to make a start on her homework as Tad responded to Ice’s cries of “Potty! Potty!” One more year, and Ice would be at school too. One more year… “Um…” said Tad, having met Miss Chandler totally unexpectedly at the fishing spot near their house. “Um…”
“I’m so glad I bumped into you,” Miss Chandler said hastily. “The thing is – the head’s proposing that I take May’s class again next year. We’ve a new teacher starting, and there’s one or two rather lively children in May’s class.”
Tad knew what she meant! He’d heard about them from May.
“But would you be happy with me being May’s teacher again? I told the head I wanted to ask you that personally, in case you…” Tad broke in on what she was saying. “I think you’re the best possible teacher May could have next year.” At last he had a chance to make amends, to show Miss Chandler how he knew he’d misjudged her.
“I would be really happy for you to be May’s teacher for another year. And May really likes you.”
Actually, what May had said was “I do love Miss Chandler.”
“I’m really fond of her.” Miss Chandler relaxed visibly. “And she does seem so much happier now. What made the difference?” Tad ended up telling her about Alicia Harbottle’s interfering ways, and her oh-so-unhelpful comments.
“But that’s an awful burden to put on a child’s shoulders! Poor May. And poor you too.”
Her genuine indignation led Tad to tell more of the story – not just the Harbottle’s comments to May, but the things she’d said to him as well, the way she’d questioned his ability to bring the children up without Star there. “That’s dreadful! How dare she? You’ve done a brilliant job with those children! You only have to look at how happy Ice is. Where is he, by the way?” Miss Chandler suddenly asked, looking around as if Ice might be under a bush or something.
“I can afford a baby-sitter now. Two hours on a Saturday morning. It’s my treat to me – my bit of time alone.”
“And I’ve interrupted it! I’m so sorry…”
“No, honestly. This is a pleasure, talking to another adult with no child around. I couldn’t have said all this with the children around,”
And it’s been nice to get it off my chest. And to hear someone else saying that I’m doing well.
“Were you coming here to fish too?” Actually, she had been planning to fish. So Tad spent a very companionable time fishing with Miss Chandler, until it was time to go and release the baby sitter and pick up his parenting duties again.
“This is what I usually do, if it’s not raining. Relaxing and we get something to eat for dinner as well. Maybe I’ll bump into you again?”
“If it doesn’t spoil your down time..?”
“No. Like I said, it’s nice to talk to someone over the age of eight!”

The Pole Renovacy Chapter 8

Chapter 8 This is based on Hi-de-Hi’s gift to me from the Holiday Gift Exchange. House here: https://www.thesims3.com/assetDetail.html?assetId=9351043 And family here: https://www.thesims3.com/assetDetail.html?assetId=9351042 He had to apologise. His own sense of fair play told him as much. But what did he say?
His eyes grew soft with his unshed tears as he remembered how good Star had been at understanding people, knowing what was hurting them, knowing how to sympathise, how to say, this is hard.
“Oh, Star, I miss your wisdom so much.” “Dear Miss Chandler.” Okay, that was the letter started.
“I wish to apologise for my intemperate outburst the other day. It was unjustified and unfair, and I regret it greatly. I am sincerely sorry for the slur I cast on your professionalism and I do appreciate that what you said sprang from a genuine concern for May’s well-being.
Yours sincerely, Thaddeus Pole.”
But he wouldn’t post it until Friday night. Term ended then, and May wouldn’t have to see Miss Chandler for a while. Three weeks in fact, as the Easter holiday was unusually long this year. The school was having problems with its drains… Some of the parents weren’t too happy about the extended holiday, but for Tad and May it was perfect. It felt like they were getting to know each other all over again.
When they’d cleared the garden in the autumn, they’d found an outdoor chess set hidden by the undergrowth “What do you say, May?” Tad had asked. “Want to carry on learning how to play?”
“Oh no, Daddy. I don’t think I’m gwown up enough,” she’d replied. Now she was keen to learn again.
“I saw that move, Dad. I’m not falling into that trap.” They woke up early one morning, ate a hasty breakfast and went fishing not long after sunrise, with the clouds still pink in the sky.
“Look, Dad! Have I caught a Harbottle?”
“A Har…oh, a trout! Yes, that’s a Harbottle.” Tad’s sketches were selling and the garden was (a) inspiring him and (b) making some money. He’d been able to get some building work done, and May could have her own bedroom at last.
“What colour shall we paint it?” “Pink!” May had said promptly.
And she’d begged a sheet of paper from his sketch book and drawn a special picture to go on the wall of her new room. Tad looked at it – a unicorn and a rainbow – and to him it said that she was feeling happier than she had been. They went to the library together more than once, and yes, May played with the blocks sometimes. But now she was playing with Ice at the table, talking to him, watching him enjoy her company, enjoy being with his big sister.
They were invited to a party – “ChuffChuff!” Ice said happily when they arrived – and Tad met more people. Quite a few of whom said, “Oh, this must be Ice. I heard about your amazingly friendly little boy.”
It was odd – nice odd – to feel that sense of connection with people again. To feel known. And not as: poor Star’s husband. The weather was beautifully warm for the whole of the holiday (though apparently, the men working on the drains at the school would have liked it a bit cooler!). May and Tad played out in the garden in the cool of the evening with the Frisbee.
“Ice is too young for this, isn’t he?” May asked. “But I’m old enough.” “Yep,” Tad said, catching the Frisbee neatly and deciding that perhaps they should move a bit further away from Ice. “Old enough and smart enough.” Technically it was bedtime for May, but the skies were so beautiful that Tad had taken her outside to see them with him.
“Dad?” May said, after they’d gazed upwards for a long and silent while.
“Mmm?”
May paused, and then spoke again.
“When Mum died – I felt like I would never be happy again. Ever. But now - sometimes I am happy. Is that bad of me?” For once, Tad felt like he had the right words to give to his daughter. He wrapped her in his warm, strong arms, pulling her child’s body into his protective embrace.
“What would Mum have wanted for you? What would she have said? Would she have said, May I want you to be sad forever? Or would she have said, May, I want you to know joy again, to know happiness again?”
“She always wanted us to be…to be able to be happy.” It had been one of Star’s things.
“You won’t – you can’t – always feel happy or be happy. Sometimes life is sad or hard. But you can have the door open for happiness when it comes again. Be the sort of person who is able to be happy. Even if it’s only about very small things. Be able to be happy.”
“Thanks, Dad.” Even though there were tears on her eyelashes, she was smiling too.
Thank you, Star, Tad thought. Thank you, Star.

Changing Seasons. Spring, part 3

Spring, part 3 “What do you want to do today? Apart from all the usual stuff? But we’re pretty well ahead of ourselves at the moment – we could take a day off,” Marcus asked Annette over their breakfast.
“How about a trip out on the bikes? I’d like to see some more of the places Old Tench has told us about. Especially the other graveyard – we’ve seen the one by the church, but not the one the programme was about.”
“Sounds good to me.” “This is hot! Now that we’ve been – almost farming: we’ve moved past gardening – here for a while, have you any thoughts about what we should focus on? What do you think’s growing well?”
“You’re the specialist! But I think the oranges, the pomelos, the limes, now that we’ve got the irrigation sorted out. And the grapes too. Maybe one day we could think about making wine!”
“Yes, I agree. It’s nice to hear you think the same. We’ll focus on the fruit for sale, and grow other stuff just for us and Old Tench. Kitchen gardening, rather than proper farming for the veg and so on.” “Wow! This place is quite a creation! Old Tench’s description didn’t do it justice.” “And people used to live here?”
“Yes. The seasonal workers on the farms. And the itinerant railway gangs when there was maintenance to do.” Marcus looked in through a window.
“It looks a bit the worse for wear. I don’t think anyone’s lived here in ages.”
“They haven’t,” Annette called back. “Let’s look at the next-door place. Old Tench says that’s really interesting. “I don’t believe it! It looks like a mediaeval blacksmith’s place! But this town was founded in Victorian times. This can’t be original.”
“It’s a copy! Old Tench said that the guy who built it was from Saxony or somewhere like that: his family had been blacksmiths for generations, and he built himself a copy. I guess he was homesick. And back then, a blacksmith here would have been wealthy enough. Old Tench said he thought someone had bought it – about three years back – but this is deserted, isn’t it?” Marcus went and looked inside the barn. The tools and the workbench were dusty and a little rusty, but they did look more recent than he would have expected, given how long Old Tench had been here on his own. Oh well. Marcus shrugged and headed off for their bikes and the ride to the graveyard. “Wow, that statue’s really something!”
“Old Tench did say this was worth a visit too.”
“It’s so neglected. Isn’t somebody supposed to take care of graveyards?”
“Public ones, yes. But Old Tench said this was the company graveyard – real cradle-to-grave care, they promised. There’s been a petition going on for about the last ten years to get it properly tended, but the company’s been holding out. That’s what that TV programme was about – the one Old Tench was so scathing about! I guess it didn’t manage to shame the company into doing anything.”
“That’s a real pity. It wouldn’t cost them much, and it wouldn’t be hard to do. It’s sad how the place has got so run down. Look, there’s even a well to water things…”
“Annette, we couldn’t possibly manage to do anything about this place. We’ve got enough on our plates as it is. Maybe in a few years’ time…”
“I guess you’re right. Come on, we’d better head for home and do some plate-clearing!” “So, if we get the last of these crates scrubbed tonight, they’ll be dry by the time we’ve finished harvesting tomorrow.” Their steady work over the past months was really beginning to show results. Old Tench had found them some old crates, knocked up a few more for them…and now they were almost ready to load the truck and head for market.
“It’ll be fun to see the bright lights of Newborough again!”
They’d been there three times now, selling a few oddments, buying a few oddments, and making contacts. And filling up with gas!
“Do you think we could afford to eat out at a diner?”
“Now that sounds like an amazing idea. We must remember to ask Old Tench if he wants us to pick up anything for him.” “Thanks so much for finding us the crates! Here’s the tools you wanted – and the vegetables are a thank you gift from us.”
“That’s real kind of you. How was that trip to Newboro then?”
“Good. We’ve got a buyer for what we grow, for sure. We’ve got a plan for the farm. We’re going to make a go of this, hopefully. We’re certainly going to try.” They scrounged old bricks from the abandoned factories for the paths, made fences from any wood they could find and dug up all the best soil on the farm and moved it into one large bed.
“If we keep fertilising it, it will get richer,” Annette said confidently. “The plant roots will hold the soil and stop it blowing away.”
“And I’ve got the irrigation system up and running. This used to be a productive farm: we can turn it back into one.”
Once they’d got the farm up and running, they were going to have to think about building some sort of house before the winter, but hey. One problem at a time.


The piled-up railway trucks and containers are by Cyclone Sue at TSR