Rattlebox

A 'regifted' greeting for you :O)

2011-12-11T17:22:00.002Z

Health & Safety and Equality Considerations for Christmas Songs

The Rocking Song
Little Jesus, sweetly sleep, do not stir;
We will lend a coat of fur,
We will rock you, rock you, rock you,
We will rock you, rock you, rock you:

Fur is no longer appropriate wear for small infants, both due to risk of allergy to animal fur, and for ethical reasons. Therefore faux fur, a nice cellular blanket or perhaps micro-fleece material should be considered a suitable alternative.
Please note, only persons who have been subject to a Criminal Records Bureau check and have enhanced clearance will be permitted to rock baby Jesus. Persons must carry their CRB disclosure with them at all times and be prepared to provide three forms of identification before rocking commences.

Dashing through the snow
In a one horse open sleigh
O'er the fields we go
Laughing all the way :

A risk assessment must be submitted before an open sleigh is considered safe for members of the public to travel on. The risk assessment must also consider whether it is appropriate to use only one horse for such a venture, particularly if passengers are of larger proportions. Please note, permission must be gained from landowners before entering their fields. To avoid offending those not participating in celebrations, we would request that laughter is moderate only and not loud enough to be considered a noise nuisance.

While shepherds watched
Their flocks by night
All seated on the ground
The angel of the Lord came down
And glory shone around :

The union of Shepherd's has complained that it breaches health and safety regulations to insist that shepherds watch their flocks without appropriate seating arrangements being provided, therefore benches, stools and orthopaedic chairs are now available. Shepherds have also requested that due to the inclement weather conditions at this time of year that they should watch their flocks via cctv cameras from centrally heated shepherd observation huts. Please note, the angel of the lord is reminded that before shining his / her glory all around she / he must ascertain that all shepherds have been issued with glasses capable of filtering out the harmful effects of UVA, UVB and Glory.

Rudolph, the red-nosed reindeer
had a very shiny nose.
And if you ever saw him,
you would even say it glows.:

You are advised that under the Equal Opportunities for All policy, it is inappropriate for persons to make comment with regard to the ruddiness of any part of Mr. R. Reindeer. Further to this, exclusion of Mr R Reindeer from the Reindeer Games will be considered discriminatory and disciplinary action will be taken against those found guilty of this offence. A full investigation will be implemented and sanctions - including suspension on full pay - will be considered whilst this investigation takes place.

Little donkey, little donkey on the dusty road
Got to keep on plodding onwards with your precious load :

The RSPCA have issued strict guidelines with regard to how heavy a load that a donkey of small stature is permitted to carry, also included in the guidelines is guidance regarding how often to feed the donkey and how many rest breaks are required over a four hour plodding period. Please note that due to the increased risk of pollution from the dusty road, Mary and Joseph are required to wear face masks to prevent inhalation of any airborne particles. The donkey has expressed his discomfort at being labelled 'little' and would prefer just to be simply referred to as Mr. Donkey. To comment upon his height or lack thereof may be considered an infringement of his equine rights.

We three kings of Orient are
Bearing gifts we traverse afar
Field and fountain, moor and mountain
Following yonder star:

Whilst the gift of gold is still considered acceptable - as it may be redeemed at a later date through such organisations as 'cash for gold' etc, gifts of frankincense and myrrh are not appropriate due to the potential risk of oils and fragrances causing allergic reactions. A suggested gift alternative would be to make a donation to a worthy cause in the recipients name or perhaps give a gift voucher. We would not advise that the traversing kings rely on navigation by stars in order to reach their destinations and suggest the use of RAC routefinder or satellite navigation, which will provide the quickest route and advice regarding fuel consumption. Please note as per the guidelines from the RSPCA for Mr Donkey, the camels carrying the three kings of Orient will require regular food and rest breaks. Facemasks for the three kings are also advisable due to the likelihood of dust from the camels hooves.
Away in a Manger No Crib for a bed -Social Services must be informed as quickly as possible.
........................................................................................................................
Does not contain nuts Please accept with no obligation, implied or implicit, my best wishes for an environmentally conscious, socially responsible, low stress, non-addictive, gender neutral celebration of the northern hemisphere winter solstice holiday period, practised within the most enjoyable traditions of religious persuasion or secular practices of your choice with respect for the religious persuasions and/or secular practises and/or traditions of others, or their choice not to practice religious persuasions and/or secular practises and/or traditions at all.
I also wish you a fiscally successful, personally fulfilling, and medically uncomplicated recognition of the onset of the generally accepted year of the common era 2012, but not without due respect for the calendars of choice of other cultures whose contributions to society have helped make Britain great (not to imply that Britain is necessarily greater than any other country or is the only "Britain" in the generally accepted global topology) and without regard to the race, creed, colour, age, physical ability, religious faith or sexual preference of the wishee.
By accepting this greeting, you are accepting these terms: This greeting is subject to clarification or withdrawal. It is freely transferable with no alteration to the original greeting. It implies no promise by the wisher to actually implement any of the wishes for her/himself/itself or others and is void where prohibited by law, and is revocable at the sole discretion of the wisher. This wish is warranted to perform as expected within the usual application of good tidings for a period of one year or until the issuance of a subsequent holiday greeting, whichever comes first, and warranty is limited to replacement of this wish or issuance of a new wish at the sole discretion of the wisher.
Disclaimer: no trees were harmed in the sending of this message however, a significant number of electrons were noticeably excited.

Something for everyone

2011-09-20T09:00:00.006+01:00

It was never like this with Elvis

2011-08-12T09:13:00.004+01:00

When I was 11 I had a wonderful dream that for years I hoped to replay but sadly never did, altho I daydreamed it often. It starred me, the very good looking cricket-playing boy next door and Elvis - and no, they were both very taken with me but we were just best friends.

In my dream only we three were left in my home town, everyone else having vanished without harm to someplace else. The three of us had free rein in the city centre shops which for me meant goodies galore - cakes, dresses, grown up undies, books and comics, records - all the things an 11 year old covets.

Many of the youngsters involved in the recent looting-fests in the UK are living a parallel dream but with vandalism, violence, arson and unrestrained aggression towards non-looters mixed in. These aren't political riots, they are blatant robberies and destruction - far from my own fantasy of freeranging the abandoned fru fru skirt counters of Lewis's.

There's a lot of talk about why these kids are behaving this way when to me it seems quite clear why they are looting - because they can, and they can get away with it. Some of the looters have been less than 10 years of age and most of them are teens, and as one of them said on the radio to the reporter who'd seen him looting 'the cops won't catch me, and if they do then it's my first offence, I'll only get a caution'. He was 100% correct.

When it's known that there will be no consequences worth worrying about, then why not steal £thousands worth of consumables? Isn't it economically rational behaviour, particularly for kids who have never heard of deferred gratification and wouldn't be interested anyway?

In my opinion, what's needed is a clear recognition of why these youngsters leap to loot when the chance occurs and a change in the public perception of the importance of exacting realistic deterrence in the form of consequences. Residential facilites with education for kids may be expensive - but these disgraceful acts will have cost many £millions.

More urgent tho than preventing any further financial losses is addressing the damage done to families, businesses, communities and the national idea of what's required for a civilised society.

So, either send those caught to new-age Borstals, or give the little bastards a damn good thwacking. Every Saturday for a year. And fine their useless parents.

I was going to call this entry 'Bathos' but I've now had the shower fixed

2011-08-06T08:45:00.001+01:00

If you're over 15 years old you must at some time have discovered that someone you hear from or talk to every few days, and who always says s/he's 'fine' and always seems their same old selves, actually has some family trauma that they've been keeping to themselves. Neighbours will do it, parents do it, even one's children may do it. You've probably done it yourself when something very troubling is going on in your personal life that you don't want to talk about.

That's me right now and that's why I can't quite motivate myself to write blog posts with anything like the regularity that keeps readers following. But I hope that you won't decide to write me off because once I become acclimatised to having this cloud over my head then my mood will pick up and hopefully I'll be back to my snarky critical blogging self.

In the meantime if you're feeling like reading something different then have a look here:
Absolutely Narcissism and here: Pickleope

Home Truths

2011-07-30T10:58:00.002+01:00

The lovely Keshling Keshling Pulls It Off!!: "You Like Me.....You Really Like Me!!!!!" has passed on to me the notion of posting several obscure personal factoids presumably in expectation that I can cope with yet more spots on my tongue, so here goes........

I was expelled from my school the term before O Levels for running in the corridor and repeatedly spending Games lessons hiding in the loos. The letter to my parents said it was unacceptable behaviour from a pupil who as a Prefect was supposed to set an example to younger girls. A friend expelled with me for the same offence was immediately sent over the road to her church to confess. How times have changed!

My younger brother once chased me trying to hit me with a poker. He really meant to do it. I can't think why, after all, it's not as if I'm ever provocative. I got my own back by hiding lots of laxative chocolate in a Cadbury's wrapper where I knew he'd find it. When he rose weak and pale from his bed and accused me I just poo poo'd it.

If I happen to inadvertantly touch a slug I instantly have temporary conniptions and scream and shake uncontrollably. I have a similar reaction to blokes wearing white socks as street wear.

As a youngster I scared several boyfriends off due to my fainting in public as a result of extremely low blood pressure. Once I stopped being scared by fainting, it started to occur whenever I found myself presented with a sink full of grungy pots or a vacuum cleaner. My dad was entirely sympathetic - my mum had more sense. My voluntary fainting fits became more selectively targetted.

When I mention my husband on my blog my comments might occasionally be described as a tad less than entirely complimentary but in fact he's an absolute sweetiepie and I love him to bits. But I know that in the past he's read my blog and I do like to keep him on his toes.

My first husband's follow-up wife was convicted of fraud. She claimed to have been so traumatized by what she'd done that she secretly burned more than £400,000 in a garden bonfire. I'm guessing that bonfire took place after they'd had their 3 months holiday in Nassau and gym-housing extension built. My daughter collected all the newspaper cuttings of the court case because she LOVED reading the unflattering description of her evil step-mum's physique. I can't think where she gets her predilection for schadenfreude from.

When I visit open gardens or even plant nurseries I can't stop myself from weeding as I go, much to my husband's embarrassment.

Chefs who insist that a particular dish simply cannot be made without adding a tiny pinch of whatever constitutes the latest supermarket inspired food fad irritate the hell out of me - but friends who drive 20 or more miles each way just to buy that pinch of whatever really really piss me off. FFS, who in heck notices a missing smidgeon of 4 saffron strands in a rambo-curry??

Reading this through I've decided to stop right now and go write a book 'How To Alienate Folk Who Previously Thought You Were Quite Nice'.

Day tripper yeahhh

2011-07-27T20:47:00.005+01:00

Can you guess where we've been today?

Any nearer?

Have you been here?

Gyp and I have and yes, it was Wales, and amazingly it wasn't raining! It was hot hot hot. As is the shapely lady (direct quote from man due a slap for making less welcome remarks) in the pic below.

and my husband came too - a somewhat unfortunate expression given the state of his trousers after traipsing back from the promenade kiosk with his huge ice cream melting and dripping down from navel to knees. Gyp tried to mob him :O)

Yep, we went to Abermaw or, to the non-cognoscenti, Barmouth :O))

Amy Winehouse, sad songs from a sad lady.

2011-07-26T21:40:00.004+01:00

Two of the most talented female singer/songwriters of the past half century - have a listen as they both comment on the drug addict/alcoholic scene.

They tried to make me go to rehab but I said 'no, no, no'
Yes I've been black but when I come back you'll know know know
I ain't got the time and if my daddy thinks I'm fine
He's tried to make me go to rehab but I won't go go go
?Amy Winehouse - "Rehab" Live on David Letterman?? - YouTube

Red water in the bathroom sink
Fever in the scum brown bowl
Blue steel still begging
But it's indistinct
Someone's hi-fi drumming jelly roll
Concrete concentration camp
Bashing in veins for peace
Cold blue steel and sweet fire
Fall into Lady Release.
"Come with me
I know the way" she says
"It's down, down, down the dark ladder.
Do you want to contact somebody first
I mean what does it really matter
You're going to come now
Or you're going to come later"
?Joni Mitchell-Cold Blue Steel And Sweet Fire?? - YouTube

Catch up

2011-07-24T08:15:00.005+01:00

Such a brief time ago these lambs were sweet innocent little scraps bouncing around Pugh's field. I can imagine what this ram's mother thinks - about time he was shipped off on a gap year.

You know the TV ad where unutterably dozy young men are going home to eat decidedly ordinary sausages cooked by their mother? You've seen that 'loving' smile with the crinkly eye thing she does? That look makes me want to shove a protractor straight up her nose.

Isn't it sad that Amy Winehouse has died so young! What an amazing singer/songwriter talent she had and now all that potential has been lost. I can't imagine how her parents must be feeling today.

Almost a week since I blogged - a week of back breaking weeding followed by slashing and burning. We managed to remove a dead eucalyptus with a small domestic saw and, even harder graft, dragged it into the paddock to await the next time we're in the mood for a towering inferno.

I've also been suffering mightily from a very nasty pain in the bum for the past few months. Not him - I'm accustomed to that, but a real pain inside the cheek of my arse. I was expecting my GP to say it was my hip which would instantly put 10 years on me but no, apparently it's my pelvis. Strangely, knowing that I have a damaged pelvis rather than a damaged hip has put a spring in my step :O)

WARNING: Garden Trivia:
We're well stuck into the Jersey mids now and as we're getting about 3lbs from each one and we have 75 plants then we're going to be digging for dinner for the rest of the summer. I pruned the blackcurrant bushes and using only the currants from those branches made 4lbs of blackcurrant jelly and 3 litres of cordial. Our 2 little gooseberry bushes produced 8lbs of both red and white berries and have resulted in 2lbs of preserve to have with smoked fish and 4 containers of stewed goosegogs for winter crumbles. The tomatoes are colouring up well and even the plants I grew from removed side shoots are now beginning to crop - food for free always tastes ace.
The greengages are starting to change colour to yellow and the apple crop is going to be completely excessive - I can see myself doing a 'pick your own' post on Freecycle in early autumn.

Why him? Why me???

2011-07-18T12:57:00.002+01:00

Do you use public buses? Have you ever sheltered from the rain in one of those covered seating areas on the prom at the seaside? Ever been on a double blind date?

If you have then it's guaranteed that you've come into closer contact than anyone sane would want with The Nutter.
The Nutter may not actually have psychiatric problems, s/he may not smell as if the last time water touched him was during The Flood, his clothing may only loosely approximate what sometimes passes for 'retro' and his dick may actually be inside his trousers this time but you know, the whole bus knows, that he's The Nutter.

I met him on Saturday in town. He and I sat on adjacent tables outside a cafe while he told me many many times that 'They made me disabled'. He told the waitresses, folk at other tables who until then had been secretly smirking at me for being the Chosen Fall Guy, he told passers by and he told a tot in a pushchair who was the only listener taking an obvious interest. At one point he leapt up to go and shout into the door of Country Casuals that 'They made me disabled'.

He wasn't much of a conversationalist but he was very focused on his message. I swigged my double espresso in double quick time, scalded my throat and at the till rasped out 'I sat next to The Nutter'. They grinned - but their grins faded as he came in to bring his message to the inside tables.

Driving home I berated myself for choosing that table, and that chair on that table. Then this morning I read this:
Click here: BPS Research Digest: We sit near people who look like us

Can I just say that altho, obviously, I have nothing decent to wear I have had a bath within the past 24 hours. That said, my message is Sitting next to The Nutter says far far more about you than it does about him!

Yay, they didn't have it in my size!!!!!! :O))

2011-07-16T19:00:00.002+01:00

It's been a good news day for me today. Firstly I stirred myself to use the close-up feature on my point and shoot camera for the first time:

BTW 12 Volts - even if you didn't have a butch screen name I'd know you were a bloke by your comment. Getting the camera body for my birthday and the lenses for the anniversary still only leaves me with ONE whole present. Are you my husband?? (narrows eyes in suspicion)

Secondly I popped into a frock shop called Ann Harvey and was looking at a quite nice top. When clothes are sized S, M, L or XL I'm usually M but these were sized 1,2 and 3. I picked up a 2 and a sales assitant pounced and asked in a strident no-nonsense voice 'What size are you??'

Shit, I thought, I'm going to have to say it in public. I muttered my size and, oh joy, she said VERY loudly, 'Oh that won't fit you, it'd look like a tent on you!'. Sophisticated she wasn't, but I suddenly wanted her for my mummy.

Lurve, innit

2011-07-16T08:30:00.002+01:00

Years ago when the world was young and I was sentimental we owned a hen who was mighty smitten with our cat Sam. She would wait her chance til Sam settled for a snooze and then she'd poddle over and lay cuddled up close, making throaty little contented clucks. Sam wasn't wild about waking up to find his fur being beak-groomed and he'd make a speedy exit straight up a tree.

One morning disaster struck - nasty stringy skeins of streaky albumen were looping down from hen's backside and trailing on the ground behind her. I bet that's put you off your boiled egg and soldiers, hasn't it?

The choice was the old fashioned country option of wringing her neck, or risk the sneers of our rustic neighbours who would wring anything's neck as soon as look at it and certainly if the other option involved opening a wallet.
A quick call to the Vet and hen was bunged into Sam's travelling box as a disguise and off we sped to the surgery.

On edge in case hen did a loud cluck, or even worse sang her egg-laying song and gave the game away, we waited quietly in the corner not looking anyone in the eye in case we knew them and they asked why we were there. All went well until the estate gamekeeper popped in for supplies and looking at the box said he hoped the cat hadn't got caught in one of his traps. Before we had time to prevaricate the receptionist shouted out 'Hen White go through please'. Hen White!!!

We never lived it down til the day we left that house.

Hen, sadly, had suffered a prolapse and had to be popped along to the great perch in the sky. Sam missed her almost as much as we did.

Say cheese (for brains)

2011-07-13T18:21:00.004+01:00

Years ago I had a super duper slr Cannon camera with the size of extending lens on it that made most male photographers wandering about with their camera on a waist strap lose their thrusting swagger and droop with embarrassment, but then something techno-bad happened to it and Jessops said that the repairs would cost squillions :O(
I said a sad goodbye to my pretensions and the camera hit the bin.
A couple of years ago my husband bought me a Nikon point and shoot but trouble was that it only had X3 zoom which isn't much good for, well.... zooming.

This morning while watching a charm of goldfinches at the birdbath I said what a picture I might take if only I had a good zoom lens and the response was to ask how much a new camera with one might cost.

I said that I thought there might be a bit of change from about £600 and my husband said, 'well, get one for our anniversary next month'.

Quick as a flash I said 'Whooah there sunshine, as I recall you decided that I should get my own birthday present when I thought of something and I haven't yet so don't think you can skip straight to anniversary present!'

'Well, it could be for both your last birthday and our anniversary' he said.

'Oh no' sez I, 'rights right and I don't like the sort of doubling up which means I miss a present'.

So that told him. Later, while bent over weeding it struck me. Nose, Cut, Face. Bugger.

C'mon, if you think you're hard enough...

2011-07-12T16:42:00.008+01:00

Out for a walk in the sunshine along a canal yesterday afternoon, just me and the dog ambled along the path until we detoured onto a small nature reserve surrounding a few ponds.
Gyp went for a drink, mistook water weed for grass (again) and fell straight into about 18" of water. Sometimes you wish you could smell Lynx instead of wet dog.

Back by the canal we came across a pair of geese belonging to the lock keeper and, already ratty because she'd had a watery fright, Gyp took agin 'em and set out to sort them out.

Once they hit the water she triumphantly rolled in sticky green goose shit. Y'know, there actually are worse smells than Lynx or wet dog.

I'd been planning a quiet half of shandy in the garden of The Queen's Head at the end of my walk but there were holidaymaking couples sipping and sunning in peace and tbh I couldn't face the notion that they might wonder which of us the rank stink came from.

Oh well done!

2011-07-08T17:27:00.004+01:00

Yesterday was my grandson Felix's first end of year Parent's Evening and his teacher handed my daughter a large envelope containing a decorative Certificate, scrolls, curlicues, acanthus leaves, ornate calligraphy, the whole 'treasured moment' shebang. As she carefully manouvered the stiff document from the envelope his mother had visions of framing it, the first of many she hopes.

Then she read it. 'This Certificate Is Awarded To Felix ****** In Recognition Of His Superb Sitting Skills'. She started laughing. The teacher looked at her as if she were a crazy woman. Once she'd calmed her hoots and chortles and wiped her eyes my daughter congratulated the teacher for spotting that Felix can indeed sit - but burst the teacher's bubble by saying that even before Miss had him for 12 months he had already been sitting since he was 6 months old.

Y'know, this type of thing is one of the reasons that many children put so little effort into learning that they leave primary school with few academic skills - everything they do which isn't illegal or life threatening is a matter for praise and congratulation. I'm sure that somewhere there's a school which gives Certificates In Superb Nose-Picking.
Now there's another one that Felix would be entitled to. Tho he hasn't graduated to eating it, yet. :O)

In dreams you're mine, all of the ti-i-ime

2011-07-07T08:38:00.003+01:00

According to some research I was reading yesterday people lose the colour range that they had in youth from their dreams as they grow older. Okay, show me an adolescent boy who dreams in anything but blue and I might believe it.

Sittin in the noonday sun....

2011-07-05T15:51:00.005+01:00

Sitting in the sun yesterday, all novelled out and too hot for weeding, something on the radio prompted me to ask my other half what he would rescue if the house were on fire before it burned down, dog already being away and safe. He had some deep thinks for about 10 seconds and then said he'd rush to save his best guitar. That was it, just the guitar. Not me, not anything else, just his sodding vintage Martin guitar. I set him all aquiver by asking what his best banjo had done to him lately and, btw, what had I done to deserve being left to the engulfing flames?

His response which he was hoping would deflect my sulk was to ask what I'd rescue. I had a deep think for 5 seconds and said I'd go for him FIRST, then our finance box, the back up hard drive, old photo albums and my favourite of our paintings.

The finance box because not having it after a fire would be a major pain in the arse and the other things because they are irreplacable. Except for him and I'd rescue him just because I'm a sentimental fool - and I'd have a few laughs watching his face as his fekin guitar burned to a crisp. He didn't think it was funny, can't think why :O)

Yay, the English hating bigot Murray lost, Yippee

2011-07-02T19:34:00.004+01:00

Don't like the title of this entry? C'mon, a little schadenfreude every now and again is good for you. Or me anyways :O)

Have you seen the lovely Nadal's superstitious habits between sets - the nose rubbing, the adjustment of the wedgie beneath his shorts? I suspect he's got my problem, his briefs have turned into thongs cos his arse has grown a twin while he wasn't looking. It's time for me to move on again. Ten years ago I was thong woman in the summer, then I became bikini brief woman and as soon as I can get to M&S I'm going to became 'that time of the month' woman in knickers which could either fit me or a small horse.

Good news this week is that the senior planning officer may have to return the backhander he took to get Brooder House Planning Permission through - their appeal has been turned down flat. I like to think that my presentation/rant at the Hearing is what did the trick altho there's a vague possibility that when the Govt Planning Inspector drove around the area and saw and was almost involved in a traffic collison that helped her reach her decision. Whatever, we'll be hitting the elderflower cordial hard this weekend :O)

Or we will if we can stay awake after being woken by this lot at the crack of dawn.

Just a Simple Dood

2011-06-28T16:47:00.006+01:00

What can you buy for £1.25? Cotton buds for poking into your ears? a part-eaten Magnum Classic? Two rolls of lavatory paper?

Think again cos I have a bargain for you - a brand new ebook by the soon-to-be-blog-world-famous Simple Dude. Yep, for a humble £1.25 you can buy the key to blogging success. Hints, tips, jokes and a straightforward approach that will leave you thinking that yes, even a dork like me can achieve squillions of Followers. Well, perhaps not a dork like me - see my Billy No Mates sidebar - but a dork like you sure can!

Go here: http://www.smashwords.com/books/view/69234 and you can read some for free before you decide to buy, and you will because, yes, he's a bit like a witty Mandella wanting to help bring peace to the whole world.

Once you've read it, if you print it off then just a little tweek here and there and you can go right ahead getting vgfm and poke it in your ears or wipe your backside with it, tho I'm sure you'd rather cross stitch every word and hang it above your monitor as I have :O)

If for some reason the above link isn't ringing your bell then click the link below, quick and easy register for free and go mad with your £1.25 :O)

http://www.smashwords.com/books/search?query=grow+your+blog

Constructions - social and Lego

2011-06-28T09:11:00.001+01:00

You're right Kesh, the blog entry I posted about yesterday is gone because it caused a storm of adverse comments tho when I last read it they were slamming me for being viciously crool instead of the beggar for being a sponging twat :O/

I was intrigued, well, slightly amused, that a Swedish kindergarten has 'banned' use of the terms 'him' and 'her' in an effort to address gender stereotyping.
Apparently they also place typical male toys like Lego (Lego is a 'male' toy?? Since when? Will it be MY fault now if my granddaughters are gay when they grow up?) next to toy kitchen areas so that children will not see a separation between construction and domestic work.
Haven't they heard the phrase 'let's build those flavours'? Isn't that construction and kitchen combined?

The Head of this kindergarten says the school emphasises tolerating gay, lesbian, bisexual and 'transgender' people. There's something a bit half-hearted about that word 'toleration' if you ask me, after all, I tolerate overcooked pasta but I wouldn't want it at my own table.
She also reckons they've had racist threats. Quite what that has to do with sexual orientation I dunno, but there we are, she's Swedish and therefore a natural LiberalDemocrat and apt to be confused about all this toleration stuff.

Since I read this little snippet I've been trying to work out how a typical teacher/child interaction might go and how the kids might deal with not using 'him' or 'her'.
'Who hit you Johnny?' 'that snotty nose fat kid over there'. Interesting times ahead for the parents of those little Swedes :O)

What do you think?

2011-06-27T15:23:00.001+01:00

I'm not generally opposed to payment for voluntarily organ donations, after all people in many lands are paid to donate blood and sperm and ova and kidneys or to be a surrogate. Some countries allow reciprocal arrangements so that two couples one of each needs a transplant but their own partner is not a match can 'swap' donors with the other couple. That is not allowed in the UK.
I can see nothing morally wrong with people freely donating bits of their liver (which grow back) to save someone's life and being financially better off for it. In fact, as long as the donation doesn't cause chronic ill health or threat to life then I believe that people's bodies are their own possession and they have a right to do with it as they wish and, if they have a prospective buyer, to get paid for what they donate. Everyone else involved gets paid after all - surgeons don't donate their time and skill out of the kindness of their hearts do they?
Iran makes grants available to people who donate organs and as a result they are the only country in the world to have no kidney donor waiting list. In the UK payment is illegal and as a result thousands of people live lives of misery and pain and die early.

So I have no principled objection to the buying of human parts and yet yesterday I read a blog entry which I found very disturbing. You can read it here: Better After: Better After: Family Style (read down)
Basically this very young US couple , altho apparently fertile, wish to adopt a Taiwanese baby and, astonishingly (to me) they are asking for monetary donations to raise $250,000 to assist them with the costs.

I don't object to people paying to have a baby, IVF, surrogacy, private spern donation - it all costs money. I think it's their focusing on Taiwanese babies rather than what I'm sure are the hundreds of thousands of children in state care in the USA who are in desperate and urgent need of a loving family home. It's also what strikes me as their absolute gall in begging unknown strangers to fund their flights, health checks etc etc etc.
They're young, fit, working - what's wrong with saving to buy your own cute toys if you really must!

Am I being a hard hearted Anna again, or do you agree? Btw, the first comment on that blog is mine if you didn't guess :O)

All set for a sunny weekend :O)

2011-06-24T17:52:00.002+01:00

Phew, I've successfully come out on the winning side of a day which promised little but arse ache - that's the sort of day when you feel like saying arse, or kiss my arse, or......... well, worse. Firstly I had to cut the grass in the orchard. It's not that big a patch, about 30x40 yards but the grass was up to 3' tall and, here's the killer, mostly laying flat to the ground. Hard hard work and messy too with the gross splatters from frogs and snails which had insufficiently burrowed themselves under the wet stalks. Mmm nice.

Then it was time to clean the slime and gore out of my hair and take my hub to the chiropodist to get his corns seen to. He didn't want to go but my patience with his 100yds an hour walking pace and ouching on every tread of the stairs had worn dangerously thin - it was either the chiropodist or I'd chop his sodding toes off and get rid of his corns that way - his choice. He had anaesthetic spray to stop the shrieks when she cut the worst corn out and he's now got a moulded toe separator to use when he takes the dressing off. Considering the whimpering he did en route to the clinic he was mighty cocky about it on the drive home.

Finally, my cordless keyboard had gone all temperamental on me, possibly sulking at the indignity of being featured naked and keyless on my blog a couple of months ago when I cleaned it. I decided to get the other cordless off the subs bench and bin my spotless but recalcitrant one, but I'm a wimp at techno stuff and was angsting about it. The angsting worked - the keyboard was raring to go the moment I pressed the 'connect' button.

So, here I am, keyboard egging me on to write emails, husband doing a quickstep around the kitchen, and orchard shorn to a frazzle. Brilliant.

In the countreeeee

2011-06-22T17:26:00.006+01:00

We were up and at 'em early this morning with the first port of call my husband's numero uno fave treat - a visit to Sainsers. Then home for elevenses (aka whacking big slice of choc cake) followed by an outing to Colemere to see the marsh orchids. There are plenty in flower but not the thousands we expected, nevertheless on one of them we saw this red and blue insect:

After less than 20 minutes with my husband shuffling through the mire ouching about his corn we turned back, tho as we had to watch our feet every step of the way for fear of squidging the teensiest trekking froglets you ever saw, going back to the car was no hardship, especially for Gyp as she got some swimming time as compensation.

Mind, she's crap at drying herself off and the car going home was highly redolent of Eau de Chien.

Home again to take the last chance this year of making some elderflower cordial which we all really enjoy. For a change I made it with the flower heads from my black elder which has given the liquor a lovely pink colour.

So a pleasantly busy day altho the last 90 minutes has been spent searching for my lost specs - which the dog found on the grass near a washed-back-down-the-hole molehill as I was writing this. Those bloody moles - thieves the lot of them!

Poor me ;o)

2011-06-19T16:59:00.001+01:00

I'm a poor wounded soldier today. I've taken an emotional battering from my daughter because yesterday while I was visiting, Felix said, quite loudly, 'I can't find the rotor to complete my new lego helicopter Granny, it's a real buggerbum'. This is my fault because apparently whenever he sees me he comes out with new words. I get no credit whatever for 'rotor' and 'complete' just stick for 'bugger' and 'bum' even tho he's been saying 'bum' for years now AND my daughter knows full well that my word of preference is 'arse'!

Then much later at night, my husband had a fight and gave someone a pasting with his fists and feet. I don't know who he was beating up but the one who got the sticky end of it was me. When he woke up after the 3rd round he said 'I was in a fight'. Yes, so was I.

So at 3am I was downstairs feeling sorry for myself and sitting outside with a cigarette thinking sulky thoughts. Then the dawn chorus started and the earth seemed to be ringing with the morning birdsong.

If you can bear to leave your bed at that ungodly hour, then do get yourself out there to get an earful of medicine for the heart :O)

Time Out

2011-06-17T15:15:00.008+01:00

Yesterday I had a txt from my granddaughter Grace, Felix's elder sister, which yet again left me with mixed feelings about nippers growing up - doubtless you can guess the import of her txt. Only 5 years ago she looked like this

and now she's rapidly turning into a young lady and already talking about going away to University

Anyway as I say I was a tad discombobulated by her news and went out on my own for a little local tootle to give myself something else to think about.

Shropshire is a lovely rural county of hills, rivers, woodland and pastureland and just a very few small and mainly charming towns. The lack of numbers when it comes to people is compensated for by their friendly helpfulness which was a real eye opener for me when we first moved out to Shropshire from inner city Leicester 18 years ago.

For instance, the first time we went to the local builders merchants asking for a tool we could only describe from the depths of our DIY ignorance as 'you know, the thing you use to tighten up the 50p shaped bit on the thing underneath the tap in the bath' not only did the blokes on the counter not sneer at us or make 'clever' remarks to each other but they said 'you don't want to waste your money buying one just for one job, here, take this off the shelf and bring it back when you're finished'. No charge!

The countryside is dotted with pretty old cottages

many with paddocks attached

Not all of the views are exclusively rural, but all have a rural charm

Having done my circular tour I pulled into The Knockin Shop for the Magnum Classic as required by my personally designed diet plan. Somehow chocolate tends to make things look a lot brighter, don't you find?

Le temps perdu

2011-06-15T16:13:00.005+01:00

In an email to me Felix' mother said

"So he will be 5.. I am most unhappy about it! he is at a lovely age – telling me he loves me, tells me every day what he will get me for my bday (robot to do the work which never gets tired, a new car, a new house, a nice dress, some flower plants, some chocolate, a ring… I tell him that he will go far and can he share his ideas with his dad!), gives lovely cuddles and says the funniest things. Oh well… "

When she herself was about to have her 5th birthday I was upset about it as she was my youngest and 5 is such a significant birthday signalling the age at which children are supposed to begin compulsory schooling in the UK. That wasn't going to happen to her for a while as we were living in Lahore at the time but even so I felt that 5 was a marker between being a tot dependant on me for everything and becoming a semi-independant nipper with her own life away from me.

I decided that it wasn't going to happen and that she would stay 4 years old and I asked her if that was okay. She was definite about wanting to be 5 because life would be so much better at 5 than at 4 and so 5 she became. She's always been a disobedient and wilful girl.

As the years went by and 5 receded into the distant past there were many times I told her how much I regretted allowing her to age beyond 4 - and now even more years have gone she sometimes says how she wishes I'd put my foot down over it.
And here we are now with her own youngest turning 5 on Friday and she's feeling the same sadness that I felt all those year ago.

When your sprogs do things which make you unhappy, when they're dismissive of you, or unthinking, or downright foul then if you're like me you'll think that what goes around comes around and that one day they'll be on the receiving end and know how it feels. Indulge yourself in a little righteous schadenfreude in other words.

In this case that's not the reality because I'm unhappy now that the older Felix gets the older she becomes too - and of course the older she becomes........ :O(

Still, look on the bright side - much older and I won't need to shell out for Brazilians :O)

Law's a mighty Ma'am

2011-06-12T07:01:00.001+01:00

Lacking either an interesting daily life or a fertile imagination (yes, I am that gormless) I turned to Plinky for a Blog prompt and saw
On a shopping trip, you catch a glimpse of someone stealing. What do you do?

Well, this once actually happened to me. I was in a boooteeek looking at the winter coats when I noticed 3 young girls looking a bit furtive and wary. Suddenly as I was watching they each grabbed armsful of coats and belted out of the shop like Eusain Bolt. I wandered outside to see what was happening and saw them dash into a Public Ladies about 100 yds away like rabbits down a hole and I followed them in, only to see them handing over all these coats to a mature woman.

Well, y'know, when I was a kid I could be naughty. In fact I was naughty in Lewis's and nicked some lipstick - gormless even then because I was only 11 and still in Airtex knickers and vests and no way would I have been allowed out on my own to anonymous places where I might have smeared some lippy on.
Still, there you go, I may have been gormless but I was bad. I was also a bad shoplifter because I got caught the first time. Lewis's called the police, the police called my mother, my mother called my headmistress and grassed me up and my headmistress told the whole damn school in Assembly. I never did it again.
But having done it, I understand why some (many, maybe most) kids can get a bit lightfingered before they're used to being tempted in department stores without their Mums at hand to watch them and slap their hands away from the stock.

But this coat nicking ring was something different - this was a female Fagin encouraging young girls to break the law and take risks with their futures while she hid out in the Ladies. So I gave her a rollocking. Bad words were used on both sides. There was a struggle with the coats. I screamed my head off (I'm a physical coward as well as gormless) I ended up on my own in the loo with about 20 coats to lug back to the retailer. Natch they called the police and I ended up being trundled around town for a Fagin spotting foray in a black Maria altho I did get to sit up front rather than whacked on the head in the cage in back.

A couple of days later there was a knock on my door and two coppers stood there wanting me to look at their photograph albums less than an hour after I'd cut my Mary Warner and hung it up to dry in the sitting room - there was a specially scented moment of trauma as I realised these cops wanted to come in and stay awhile!
I had to sit them at the dining table alongside the kids who were messily stuffing 'yukky' liver beneath the sides of their plates while I looked through the crims pics but yes I spotted the woman and she was prosecuted.

Good and bad in the garden

2011-06-10T17:43:00.003+01:00

A mixed couple of days in the garden: a dead fledgeling Greater Spotted Woodpecker chick floating amongst the waterlily leaves in the pond and the first ever walnuts on my tree.

And yesterday 7 Liverpudlians repairing the lane, and doing it properly!!! Not simply chucking spadefuls of tarmac into the holes as per usual every couple of years but using machines to do a proper job. This is the lane that a would-be Brooder farmer wants to send huge HGVs with hens and brooder supplies rattling along!

Could have knocked me down with a feather - especially when all 7 blokes knocked on my back door asking for a drink of water, 'or tea if you've got the time'! They got water, but I'm not mean, I put ice cubes in :O)

Gimme gimme gimme

2011-06-08T17:52:00.001+01:00

I have a fair number of duvet covers most of which are as old as Rod Stewart tho in better nick. They are all either white, cream or straightforward blue - chintz is not for me. But I'm bored with them and yes, I know that actually being bored with perfectly decent bedlinen is sad of me, but I am. So I was thinking of donating them to sprogs and buying a bunch of new ones, maybe something radically different like blue and white stripes. Daringly modern, me.

But then yesterday I was thinking of my parents who never replaced anything unless it was worn out and I don't mean just lost it's shine or become a bit bashed on the corners, I mean really worn out.
So they had ancient cutlery made thin by decades of wear, ancient blankets (several Utility brand), ancient sofas - and much of that was inherited back in the Golden Olden Days. This frugality wasn't the result of penury, they could easily have afforded to replace the toaster which only worked on one side or the ironing board which had been burnt almost through and had to be used in conjunction with a folded sheet (I get my ironing skills from my Mum). But they lived as they believed - if it aint broke don't fix or replace it.

I can't decide whether I wish they'd spent some loot on nice new things which might have made their lives easier and less frustrating (think of daily bickering over the first slice of toast to emerge) or whether they were in fact happier wasting not and wanting not.

I once made the mistake of tentatively approaching the historically verboten on pain of death subject of money and bills with my father while he was pottering in his greenhouse - I was working my way around to intimating that I'd like to help him out from time to time. He patted me on the arm and told me to wait a minute and then he went into the house.
You've guessed it, he came out with a wad of cash and asked me how much I needed.

And that was precisely why he and my mum were careful with their money - being able to help family was the greatest pleasure their money could have brought them. Of course I thanked him profusely and said I thought £50 might do it and repaid it pronto a week later. When I cleared the house after his death I found two loaded bankbooks and several thousands of ££s stashed away in his bedroom.

So I know it's shallow and wasteful and selfish of me to spend money on unnecessary ephemerals but there y'go, I'm going to buy those new duvet sets and sod it - I'll send the old ones to all the duvetless children in China. I'll put in a note 'hey, remember me sending you the skins off my rice pudding decades ago? My mum said that you'd be only too glad of it. Well, here's some duvet covers, now all you need are some nice kingsize beds and you're all set.'

Cracking good reads

2011-06-07T18:13:00.002+01:00

An amusing blogger that I regularly read is using her blogging as a basis for a novel - you can access the first funny chapter by having a look at this: Fortifying your Fifties I know she'd be grateful if you feel like reviewing it. This blogger can be followed via Facebook too if having read it you want to keep on reading.

Many blogs are generally focused on particular interests, frugality, wine, travel, politics or hobbies etc and some are simply a domestic diary/occasional musings, which is where I'd categorise my own blog.

Other blogs however really stand out from the crowd for the quality of writing or the fascinating insights given by the content.
For excellent and amusing writing have a look at this: Vienna for Dummies
And for experiences from a whole other world than most of us inhabit, do read this: other things amanzi

I'd be very interested to get recommendations from you about either very witty or thoughtful blogs that you think more people should read. :O)

Lol @ Freecycle

2011-06-05T17:48:00.000+01:00

I know it's bad of me to laugh but.........

"good working order mounting bike needed" lolol

Go on, give that girl a medal.

2011-06-05T14:19:00.003+01:00

Pippa Middleton, the new unofficial People's Sister In Law, has taken part in a Triathlon. She only took the running part, not bothering with the cycling and swimming, and yet still 'won' a medal.
Presumably it was the medal for "ending up in the middle finishers of the running part of a triathlon where the other participants had also swum and cycled" or perhaps it was a medal for being 'prince William's sister in law' or for having a small bum, who knows.
Pippa Middleton wins medal in Blenheim Triathlon - AOL Lifestyle UK

My granddaughter Constance also entered her first ever triathlon today. Like Pippa, Constance finished in the middle but unlike Pippa she swam and cycled too, but unlike Pippa Constance didn't get a medal. She also didn't wear £270 Bulgari sunglasses on top of her head. Perhaps that's where she went wrong because, to be frank, Constance's bum actually is a lot smaller than Pippa's and Constance too is a sister in law, tho only of a Prince Amongst Men and not of an inherited princedom.

Sounds like sour grapes, doesn't it? It's really not, it's just that I can't abide the way that the media latches on to people on the periphery of a public interest story and converts them into more-than-willing media tarts.

Ruddy Blogger commenting

2011-06-05T08:56:00.001+01:00

I'm getting more than a bit fed up with this Blogspot commenting issue which often won't let me comment in the name I've logged in with but keeps getting me to sign in again, and then sign in again, and then sign in again, and still won't let me comment in my blogger name.
If bloggers allow anonymous comments then I can do that, but many bloggers don't allow anonymous comments because they've had stinkers in the past. So I'm stymied on those blogs. It's a real pita.

If YOU know of a fix which is proven to work then pretty please do tell.

Out, Out, Out, Out sez I.

2011-06-04T18:34:00.001+01:00

The government is considering changing the law to allow local authorities and social landlords to evict tenants whose income is £100,000+ pa, and it's suggested that if this happens up to 6000 people could be affected, or to put it another way, 6000 properties would become available to families on low incomes.

Social housing was intended to provide homes for people whose income was too low for them to be able to afford decent accommodation at free market prices. We have tens of thousands of individuals and families in the UK who are living either in Homeless Hostels or in DSS funded bed and breakfast places. That's no way for so many British children to be housed in the 21stC. It's doubly disgraceful when apparently there are 6000 people in decent local authority properties who are earning upwards of £100,000pa.

Some people will say that should these properties become vacant they'll be filled by immigrant families, or that everyone deserves security of tenure if they pay their rent regularly. Personally I don't much care where the poverty stricken poor originated, if they have children then as a country we owe those children a duty of care. As for security of tenure, then let those high salaried spongers get a mortgage like the rest of us. They can afford to pay their own way and shouldn't be allowed to take from the taxpayers - the majority of which will be on much lower incomes.

Those people are stealing from the poor to enrich themselves and the sooner the law is changed and they are forced to pay the market rate for their housing like the rest f us, then the better it will be as far as I'm concerned..

What do you think?

Summer is a cumin in, tfft :O)

2011-06-04T10:11:00.004+01:00

This last couple of warm sunny dawns I've been up and about, not exactly with the larks, but before 6am. Yesterday morning I was outside using the hose to wash molehills back down the hole when I heard a ghostly sound and out of the foggy mist saw a red Virgin balloon slowly appearing. I thought I'd made an early start but just think of the time the balloonist and passengers would have had to be up!

Washing the soil back down the moleholes seems not to deter the little blighters at all as the same mounds were in the same places this morning. If they don't start taking the hint soon I shall have to get Pete the Moleman back to put a stop to their undermining of my plants, and chirpy tho Pete is, at £80 a time I'd rather avoid seeing him.

Spot the Shed

Oh what a lovely day

2011-05-31T18:58:00.001+01:00

After a weekend of looking after visitors/grafting to remove and burn a dead hedge (my husband standing on one spot, hands on hips to supervise) I had a refreshing break from domesticity today. (I was being ironic with the 'refreshing' part)
I spent the ENTIRE day at a Planning Appeal regarding the erection of 5 Brooder Houses in the next hamlet along our lane. It was, except when I spoke, natch, the absolute epitomy of tediosity. Bureaucracy, a dull business conducted in a dull manner by dull people.

By the time it came to my turn to speak after 4 hours of a numb bum I was worn out with the 'Madam Inspector' and 'If I may interject' and decided that as it was no skin off my nose what they thought of me personally I would go for it and get in their faces a bit.
So I did. When I referred to the risk of traffic accidents on the S bend under discussion I remarked that the last death on that S bend was of a young man killed by a recently Planning approved Brooder business owner. On the Appellants bench eyes were popping and audible gasps were heard, whereas from my side there was a ripple of 'hear hear's and 'well said'. Of course I'm screwed for getting favours from our local farmers now but hey, we're hoping to move house next year anyway.

While I was out having fun at Shire Hall the ebay buyers for my husband's (3rd) banjo turned up to pay and collect it which led to him spending the afternoon jamming while my duvet covers, sheets and bathtowels got rained on. Then he went to sleep.

PS If I haven't commented on your blog for a while it's because Blogger is being a right pita and because you don't allow Anonymous comments :O)

A mixed blessing

2011-05-28T18:24:00.002+01:00

Mine is a reconstituted family. My now deceased mum in law was twice married, and each of her 3 children were also twice married, and all had children and stepchildren from both marriages. My (2nd) husband is one of those 3 children and now we too each have step children and biological children. One of my sons in law was married before and so when she married him my daughter gained 2 stepchildren. To put it mildly, there are a heck of a lot of us and we all get on great, half-siblings, steps, exes, separated; it makes no difference to the family life we have except that in my experience it adds immeasurably to the sense of family and the fun we have when we all get together. The gossip is excellent too :O)

This has now changed. The twice wed son in law is only 7 years younger than I and so, unsurprisingly, his daughter and her husband have now had a baby.

Martha Rose

Under other circumstances this would be brilliant news. She's a little cracker, 8lb 8oz altho I doubt they expressed it in lbs and oz in the German maternity hospital where she was born yesterday. The spoiler for me, given that this is the child of my daughter's step-daughter is that it has turned me into a step Great Granny.

Let this be a warning to you if any of your own sprogs has yet to marry - do NOT allow them to wed someone of your own generation!

Is tagging the same as being ASBO'd?

2011-05-26T17:59:00.006+01:00

For the first time ever I've been tagged. And by a man. This is the nearest I've got to getting an intimate relationship with a man I'm not married to in many a long year, at least from someone not drunk or insane. At least I think he's not but judge for yourself here: Fortifying your Fifties: Hubby's Hotties - I've been tagged

What you read below may not be true in factual terms but I'm sure a little metaphysical guff will be as informative as any other 'truths' I may post here....

Do you think you're hot.
I have one of my husband's cardigans on, in fact the only clean one so whilst not actually hot I am quite cosy. When I was 20 and wearing a bloke's cardi I used to be 'hot' but y'know time changes everything. Now I look less like Bardot and more like Pauline Fowler. Except of course, she's dead and I just look it first thing in the morning. And at midday. In the evenings I look as tho I'm dead and have been dug up. So no, I'm not 'hot'.

Upload a picture or wallpaper that you are using at the moment.

When was the last time you ate chicken.
Sheesh well, I had Chinese takeaway a couple of weeks ago so who knows

What song did you listen to recently
Tony Capstick "They don't write them like that anymore".
Here's one that Capstick wrote wot they don't write like anymore - altho on the Politics message board I contribute to occasionally many of the curmudgeonly old coots come pretty darn close.
Click here: Capstick Comes Home by Tony Capstick DO have a listen, unless you're only happy when you're miserable.

What were you thinking of while doing this
I was thinking how I knew Capstick from folk clubs and fancied him a bit. I used to think he had a lot of charisma but it may just have been the drink.
I'm teetotal now :O)

Do you have any nicknames
Nope. Except that my kids used to call me Margot ('Good Life' Margot) and now call me Jude (Judge Judy). But they never call me that if they're within reach.

Tag 8 blogger friends.
Sorry to be a Party Pooper but this is where it must stop. I'm Billy No Mates.

Only in dreams

2011-05-25T10:42:00.003+01:00

If you've ever read anything on self-motivation then you'll be familiar with the idea that to imagine yourself succeeding in reaching a goal is a positive strategy which will help you to actually achieve that goal.

Well, tho I've never read a book on making my dreams come true I have had lots of experience of fantasizing about achieving my personal wish list and I've long accepted the fact that I've forever missed my chance of getting either the 35 year old Elvis or the 25 year old Mohammed Ali between my sheets. Tbh, I wouldn't actually want them there in person now, one has to accept that time changes everything, especially Elvis.

Research however has found that my Elvis-less past is to some extent down to me. Apparently having fantasies made me less 'energized' about going out and getting him.
BPS Research Digest
Y'know, somehow I think that's rubbish. I think those fantasies were my only option, particularly as I never went to the USA during his lifetime - obviously if I had gone there then baggsing Elvis would have been a foregone conclusion.
But, sadly, experience also tells me that my fantasies were a whole lot better than the reality could have been.

BTW, I'm scuppering my chances with Bublé these days - and what sane woman wouldn't! :O)

See? That's why hair appts keep me awake at night!

2011-05-24T00:50:00.004+01:00

My hairstylist is a Thai lady in her late 30s. She's quite close to 5' tall and must weigh all of 7 stone wet through. Next to her I look like what in Wales is described as Ty Bach. She dresses always and only in black; definitely more sex on a lacy shrimp stick than ancient Greek Granny, and she's a firm believer in improving whatever the fates have stuck you with which is why, with the most sisterly of motives, she last year surreptitiously slipped a card with the contact details of her cosmetic surgeon into my hand in exchange for the £5 I gave her on leaving the salon.
She's had breast enlargement and eyelid lifts and tattoo'd eyebrows and eyelash extensions and always sports a deep un-Thai-like tan, blonde hair extensions, purple extended nails and killer heels (hence the almost 5').

Her English is good but her accent is shite, which means that I often have to ask her to repeat herself which leads her to shout at me. As she often shouts things like she did today 'what??? you want shorter??? but you look younger than you are with the longer hair'- with the result that everyone else in the salon turns and has a long considering look at me - then I often wish I'd just smiled at her reflection in the mirror and kept my mouth shut.

When I'd had my shampoo today she came over and elbowed the shampoo girl out of the way and proceeded to wrap my hair around her fingers and tug it in a circular motion. As she struggled to unwind the hairball she'd detached from my head from her fingers she asked 'you like Thai head massage, yes?' Head ringing with the beating it had taken I was dumb enough to say pardon?
'I give you Thai massage because you have VERY FLAT FOLLICLES'.

Very flat follicles can, it seems, only be cured by expensive 'products'. Several of them. At a minimum of £12 each in addition to the £44 the cut and blowdry was going to cost me. I thanked her for the professional diagnosis but declined her prescription.

As she watched me struggle to deal with with mac and shoulder bag and carrier bag and brolly and credit card her parting words, once she'd pocketed the £5 tip were, 'Okay, so you leave here looking older and with flat follicles, but if you're happy I'm happy'.

Why do I put up with it? Because the other thing she always does is a stonkingly good haircut.

Monday Monday

2011-05-23T13:40:00.003+01:00

Well the Fete went very well and altho I wasn't Cake Stall Lady I did manage to baggs a couple of scrummy cakes, a gingerbread loaf and half a dozen cherry scones, so all was not lost. I ended up doing plants (all grown by moi) and half of the bookstall, about 100 donated by me. In fact I bought one of my own back - I'm sure my husband slipped it in there! We raised a good amount, tho there's still a way to go to pay for the traffic and ecological surveys associated with our objections to the Brooder Planning Appeal.

We have a brood of blue tits in our 'posh' birdbox and yesterday they were ready to fledge but I think the high winds deterred them. Today the winds are even stronger so whether these tiny scraps of feather will brave it today I don't know. I do know that the parent birds will get fed up and stop feeding them in the box quite soon so fingers crossed.

Yet again for the 8th year running we have jackdaws nesting in one of the chimneys and their chicks are ready to leave the nest soon too. I am happy to see them come back every year but, like human children, the nippers get noisier as they get bigger and unlike children the racket made by the jackdaw tots reverberates and echoes down the chimney. Shouting STFU has no effect whatsoever so I'm stymied and stuck with it until they brave up and GET OFF MY ROOF! :o)

At the mo I'm looking like a cross between the Dulux dog and this sheep below but this afternoon I'm off to my postponed haircut - I went into town on Friday and discovered that I'd left my purse after I'd parked in the carpark. I should get a consultancy job with DivsRUs.

What's happening to me?

2011-05-20T14:25:00.001+01:00

When I was working for money I was accustomed to traipsing across country and sometimes abroad to speak to large and small groups of volunteers, middle level staff and senior management, at tribunals and even on one occasion speaking to a committee at the House of Lords. I've been interviewed for newspapers, magazines and on local and national radio numerous times. I've given good news and bad news, told people they're doing a brilliant job or that they're shite (underperforming ) and I took it all in my stride, never worrying beforehand and often using no notes whatsoever.

This week has shown me that those days of brimming self-confidence are slipping away. I've been angsting firstly about having my hair cut this afternoon - and yes it's the same stylist who kindly slipped me the contact details of her cosmetic surgeon a year or so ago :O(

Then on Saturday I'm a stallholder at our hamlet Fete. I agreed to volunteer (submitted under threat of physical violence) thinking that I'd become Cake Stall Woman which at least would have had it's upside in first baggsy, but no, it seems I'm doomed to be Raffle A Fekin Huge Teddy Woman which will mean dumb dads and rugrats galore. A dad won this same Fekin Huge Teddy last year and of course his wife has donated it right back at us for this year.

Finally, being a quiet non-complaining gently spoken type of woman, I've been nominated to precis 50 handwritten pages of righteous and heavily underlined whinges and use the result to harangue a Planning Appeals Hearing on 31st, under strict instructions to allude to corruption without mentioning the bastard involved by name.

It's stupid to worry about this sort of low level nothing but when sleep eluded me on Wednesday night, those are the things I was thinking about. My old self would have given me a good slap and told me to grow up.

I'll give you bloody baa baa

2011-05-18T08:06:00.000+01:00

Yesterday evening instead of relaxing on the sofa in front of BBC4 I was out chasing around in the gloaming attempting to round up three of Pugh's fat lambs which had done a breaking and entering job into the garden in order to chomp up my carefully nurtured plantings.
The desperate cries of their mothers who couldn't make the leap to join their infants had alerted me that something was amiss out there and when I peered out, there the miscreants were, eating my wiegelia flowers.

I managed to corner one and grabbed it around its middle with the notion of lifting it back over the fencing. No chance, that lamb was a fat Tardis. It looked little and cute but weighed a ton, even after it had emptied its bowels down my dressing gown and over my shoes, and when it stood on my foot its weight bearing down on my toes through just one little hoof was crippling.

My shrieks and curses eventually scared them enough to impell them to risk breaking their necks scrambling back through the sheep and barbed wire fencing and I then spent 20 minutes reinforcing and heightening the fencing with garden chairs and bird tables with the result that the garden looks as if Gypsies have just vacated the site.

Pugh's ansafone will have burnt his ears when he listened to my message. If it occurs again either the lambs will end up in my freezer or I'll have Pugh's guts for garters.

The Joy of Sex

2011-05-17T16:44:00.002+01:00

I was reading an article yesterday discussing whether parents should allow their 16 year olds to have a boy/girlfriend over to share their bed for the night. There was a lot of comment on ensuring that contraceptives were used, and a firm preference for only allowing long established boy/girlfriends to stay, and only after long discussions about emotional needs etc and after obtaining their parents' permission.

One of mine aged 16 asked the same thing. Her boyfriend was we thought (and later we were proven correct) a bit of a flash Harry, an unreliable braggart with an insecure notion of how to behave in someone else's home. To put it another way - over my dead body. We disliked him to the extent that I wouldn't even want him between sheets that I owned.

Apart from all that I didn't want my daughter getting the notion that she could bring boys home to sleep with her with our approval - begin that way at 16 and what would be occurring by the time she was 18/19/20!
So the answer was 'non!!!!!!!!!'.

She wasn't best pleased but when you're parenting teenagers well, c'est la vie, the little buggers are rarely best pleased. That particular boyfriend didn't last much longer and she never asked again until she was at university and then, tbh, once the horse has bolted.......... :O))

One unexpected payback for us has been the fun we've had teasing her about that boyfriend over the years. If she even suspects that we may be leading up to relating the tale to her husband she goes pale and tense. I only have to mention the name of a well known brand of cigarettes with a similar name and her head swizzles round to give me a hunted fawn look.
It's mean of me I know but it's only on a par with showing nude baby photos, no? :O)))

Be on your guard

2011-05-14T09:17:00.003+01:00

Blogger publishing being down has done me a favour. I'd been prompted to write a post by an entry about family on another blog, but the delay has given me space to reconsider and I've decided to dump it as too personal. So there you are, another exposure to blackmail avoided!

Some folk do write intensely personal and detailed blog entries about their partners and children, sometimes giving away factual info, such as location and type of employment, life history etc and when those facts are accompanied by photographs I worry that they might be spotted and accosted in the street by blog readers.

I'm concerned about the amount of information that some people give online of themselves or their family, they give those details in all innocence mostly, I think, because they don't think anything bad will happen.
Having once been stalked for 2 years at the very start of my online experience I know that bad things can happen, and how dreadful it is to be hounded with malice, how little there is one can do about it once the stalker has gathered enough info about one, how nightmarish life can become.

When you write your blog and before you click on Publish, reread your entry with the eyes of a vindictive and unbalanced sociopath - and remove any info which would enable them to trace you.
And NEVER give your address or telephone number to someone you've known only from a few months online - for all you know, that nice woman Mary might actually be a very nasty man - or, as in my case, a very nasty woman.

Starter for 2s

2011-05-12T16:56:00.000+01:00

On Monday morning we stood leaning on the paddock gate admiring the buttercups when out of the blue we heard a deep rumbling gurgle, and then another. A couple of minutes investigation revealed that the gurgle had been out of the brown, rather than the blue. Peering into the loathsome maw of the septic tank we could see the 'crust' was thick and deep and unctuous (nice image huh?).

Never having suffered the foul adventure of 'flowback', and not wanting to widen my experience I rushed inside and rang Edward, Poo Tanker Man.

An hour later and his tractor and tanker were dragging my washing line behind them as he drove through to the paddock, nonchalantly dragging my weekenders' bathtowels through the ponypoo as he went around to the septic tank. He lugged out his hoses and after using a spade to break the crust, plunged the hose end into the mire.

We stood he and I in a thick and foul miasma for a quarter of an hour as he complimented me on the state of the tank contents. 'You wouldn't believe what some people put down them, they're nothing like as nice as yours' etc. Obviously he could tell that I'm a sucker for compliments.

After 10 minutes of holding back the womit Edward declared himself satisfied. 'I've left you 4" as a starter'. Oh, I said, like for making yoghurt, or ginger beer?

Nope, I don't hate Mondays.

2011-05-09T08:52:00.004+01:00

Eight weeks with no rain came to an end just as our weekend visitors leapt out of bed ready for outdoorsy fun on Saturday morning and, dejected, I had to abandon my list of little garden jobs that I'd intended to delegate to the men. So instead of chopping down trees and having a massive bonfire in the paddock and water slides at t'other end of the garden while I read quietly indoors with the occasional poke at the beef bourgignon we were stuck with Connect 4 and 150 piece Disney puzzles.

[Personally, I think that 'family games' are the absolute WORST aspect of child rearing and have dismal memories of endless after-homework evenings of Yahtze and Uno. I still have contracts out on aunties who sent family games via Santa. Tbh, I was relieved rather than anxious when fairy outfits and home-written 'plays' were replaced by faux streetwalker outfits and demands for 'loans' for clubbing the night away. Oh the blessed peace once they were old enough to bugger off and leave us to watch TV in our slippers :O) ]

Anyway the men, ever thoughtful of their family duties, seized their chance and shot off to Brum to watch the racketball league competition. Boy did they look glum as they waved goodbye and convoyed off down the lane for a day of beer, burgers and big boys games.
We females were left to skip in and out between downpours and as soon as it looked as if we might have more than ten minutes without a drenching we went off to Ellesmere to walk round the mere and feed the ducks. It wasn't exactly thrilling but compared to playing tea parties with tots it was a blessed relief. And the gooseberry cheesecake at the Boathouse Cafe was truly fantabulous.

Our visitors had such a good time that they've promised to come back for a week or ten days later in the summer. It's bound under Sod's Law to rain again when, and only when, they have arrived. I shall buy some 5000 piece puzzles and set them up in the summer house - and for myself I think perhaps I'll get Proust's 'A la recherche du temps perdu' and offer to read aloud to any infant (or adult) who hoves within sight.

Update

2011-05-05T17:30:00.003+01:00

Well, the husband is being a very brave little soldier regardless of his puce and purple fizzog. He's had so much fuss that he's come over all embarrassed and this morning declined to walk the dog for fear that he might be sympathetically pounced on by one or more of our hamlet ladies, known as The Marjories as they all are so named. We have Old Marjorie, Chubby Marjorie, Golfing Marjorie, even Gay Marjorie etc etc......
He's embarrassed because once his cuts were dressed he's had no pain. Not even a smidgeon of a headache.

I find this immensely annoying, not because I want him to suffer (or not as the moment), but because I suffer a lot: rheumatics, tendonitis, migraines, and then I've had nodules on my larynx removed, a displaced medial tendon in my knee, and most recently, meningitis. And absolutely FEK ALL visible to the passing eye. The nearest I've had to sympathy is folk saying 'cheer up it may never happen'.
Sometimes I wish handguns were legal in the UK.

While he was hamming it up on the telephone to family yesterday I spent some time working (muttering) in the garden and polytunnel. I don't have much of a range now in the tunnel, but of what I have I have a lot. I have, for example, 44 small rudbeckias which all needed potting on and watering. I have 12 tomato plants just setting their first trusses and shortly due to go into ring culture on top of growing bags along with their sturdy supports. I have 26 red geranium waiting for June to go into courtyard pots and 40 double white cosmos coming on.

Last October I took a squidgy hip from the Rosa Rugosa below and extracted the sticky seeds and put them into potting compost and just left them to get on with it. Amazingly when I next went in the tunnel several months later I discovered that they'd all germinated and they have all 36 been potted on twice since then. At the moment they're only about 5/6" tall but when we move next year (unless we change our mind) they will be a hedge. About an 8" tall hedge from the looks of it :O)

About 4 years ago I found a teensy hawthorn seedling under the magnolia, doubtless crapt there by our garden blackbird. I unearthed it and potted it on and eventually out. It's now about 9' tall and this year is flowering beautifully.

There's another now under the magnolia. It's unbelievably dry under there and yet any number of new plantlets spring up; this year so far there are another dozen or so cyclamen, ½dozen Corsican hellebore, an little oak seedling, a holly and, weirdly, a teensy Yew.

Ooops a daisy

2011-05-04T21:27:00.001+01:00

This morning while out grocery shopping my husband had a bad fall in the car park whilst I'd gone into the supermarket to spend my usual ten minutes choosing flowers. I was standing wondering where he'd got to and looking out of the shop doorway for him, arms loaded with roses when in he came, escorted by a lady in an electric wheelchair and a chap in his late 80s who had been 'looking after him'. Blood poured down his face from some nasty cuts on his forehead and on his brow, blood through one knee of his trousers and dripping off one hand. 'I've had a bit of a fall' he said. The lady in the wheelchair said that her (wizened and skeletal) hubby had helped him up from the floor.

First Aiders fell over their feet to be the first in the rush to get to him and sterile dressings were being slapped all over him almost before he'd sat down. Once the blood had been mopped somewhat and his head wrapped Geronimo-style I suggested that I take him straight home and get him cleaned up and settled and then come back alone later to get the groceries but he declined, asked the woman filling in the Accident Form for a cup of tea, and said he'd rather I got the shopping there and then.

Feeling anxious about him but sure that he was in safe hands near the tannoy off I went to get the grub for our upcoming weekend visitors, and returned to find that he'd been receiving lots of attention from seemingly endless women staff and shoppers and had found it all very entertaining - 'much better than trawling around with you' he said.

He spent the rest of the day on the sofa, or in front of the mirror commenting admiringly on his developing bruises, and the phone telling people 'yes, and then Jane went off to buy her flowers'

Beltane in Glastonbury

2011-05-01T09:54:00.003+01:00

Phew, it's over but for the endless carping about hats and wrong-sided medals. So now here's a report which shows a genuine tradition in which, instead of being strictly kept well back at a respectful distance, English people organise for themselves and actively participate as equals.

Have a look at this, and wish you were there :O)
Click here: Hillside cottage: Beltane in Glastonbury

Bah, HUMBUG!

2011-04-29T17:32:00.002+01:00

You're not going to like me today. I'm going against the popular flow because I didn't watch the royal wedding - and the reason I didn't watch it is because I cannot bear all that sycophantic bleurgh of the fawning commentators. Another reason is that I think the royals and aristos should all be done away with - I don't mean taken to a cellar, it doesn't need such drastic resorts. Simply not paying any attention to their doings, not calling HMQ 'Ma'am', or using the rest of their ludicrous titles; Charles Lord of the Isles indeed, pah!
Then, as long as they get ZERO subsidence from the poor UK taxpayer and pay income and capital gains taxes like the rest of us, and get the hell out of all those castles and palaces which belong to the taxpayers then, well, they can do what they like. Suck foreign bankers' toes for the papparazzi, deceive their vulnerable wives, wear an 'F You if I care' face when one of their family tragically dies and the rest of the country is in mourning, fly helicopters at their own expense and not mine to visit their girlfriends, have children who look more like gargoyles than anything else (hellooo Ann) - I don't care as long as it's not at my expense and not in my face.

I bet you hate me now. You'll hate me more in a mo tho..........

While you and virtually everyone else in the entire insane world was watching William finally marry the woman he's been living with for the last eight years (and she had the nerve to wear white!) I was getting an unexpectedly warm welcome from a long row of staff sitting growing their fingernails at the idle checkout tills in Sainsbury's. As I passed each one their pleading eyes begged me to go through their till and, for a delicious touch of irony, I chose one on the grounds that she was wearing a charity shop wedding dress :O))

PS. Having seen a pic of Kate in her dress I hope that this may mean an end to the bridal trailer trash slut look which has been so prevalent of recent years.

Your keyboard: It's SO much more feelthy than you can ever imagine

2011-04-28T22:08:00.003+01:00

To give your keyboard a really thorough clean first start by 'drawing' a memo of your keyboard, noting where all the keys are placed - this step is VITALLY important!
NB the number keys above the qwerty part all have the numeral at the bottom of the key and a sign such as "£$%^& above the numeral on the SAME key. Numbers on the Number pad are at the top of the key.
I wished I'd noted that when I had all the numbers inserted, all in the wrong place.

Then using either the tip of a nail file (which is what I used) or the tip of a small kitchen knife, gently prise off all the keys making SURE to keep them all safe, ie do NOT let a pet eat them or you may have a long wait and your moggy won't be a happy bunny when the key exits.

Put a small amount of laundry liquid (or probably any other soapy cleaning fluid) into a jar or ziplock bag and put all the keys inside and GENTLY shake it all about. Then leave it while you deal with your emotions. Have a fag. Or chocolate. Or gin. Try all three, why not?

You will see all manner of disgusting muck on what's left of your keyboard once the keys are removed. Be ashamed!

Get over the shame and squirt a little kitchen cleaner into a small container and fetch your husband's cotton buds downstairs. Dip them (NOT all at once) into the cleaning liquid and use them to remove the absolutely GROSS gunge. Don't be mean with the cotton buds - they ARE your husband's after all.

Once the key-soaking liquid looks like a professional soccer player has washed his foul mouth out with it, then empty it out catching the keys in a sieve. Rinse them well and then lay them somewhere warm to dry. A sunny windowsill worked for me.

Once the keys are dry and the keyboard as clean as you can get it (after all you'll not be doing THIS every other week, will you?) then it's time to turn again to your doubtless artistic drawing of the keyboard.
Stop weeping bitter tears of regret - it will all start to make sense once you've braved up and started to put keys back. And what satisfying clicks they make.

Go on, I have faith that you, yes YOU CAN do it. Go on, ah go on, go on............. :O))

Oh happy day...... :O)

2011-04-28T17:31:00.006+01:00

Today I'm in a congratulatory mood, which doesn't happen too often, as I'm usually a congenial and family-friendly mix of truculent and surly. However, today I got a press cutting of my eldest Aunt celebrating her 100th birthday on the same day as HMQ of this sunny and wedding besotted Queendom had her mere 85th. Aunty was my Dad's eldest sister and, as our family suffered the loss of a boy in a traffic accident so did Aunty of her only son and husband and so now as a widow one might think she'd be a bit lonely but not a bit of it! Her birthday party was attended by over 40 relatives including a brother and three sisters as well as nieces and nephews and grands and greats enough to trip over. As Aunty is blind it's lucky that she didn't come to grief over a rugrat :O)

I have also - and I'd like a large round of unstinted applause for this feat of courage please -I've taken apart and cleaned my keyboard!!!!!!

Yes, I took all the keys out, washed and dried them and then (here's the clever bit)

put them all back and in the right places!

The Dingle

2011-04-27T21:50:00.005+01:00

Yesterday, as part of my 'get outside for at least an hour every day' plan, we went via the beautiful Welshpool road to The Dingle Nursery and visited their lovely garden yet again. The garden was begun by a newly married couple during the late 1940s/early 50s and over that time has grown to encompass an entire quarry. There is also a massive commercial tree plantation and for about the last 10 years, a newer version of The Dingle Garden Centre minus the lovely garden created by the founders. It must be wonderful to create a garden as beautiful as this one and live to see it grow to maturity.
Do click on the photos to see them larger size.

A view across the pond:

Some fantastic trillium, one of my favourite springtime plants.

This wonderful eucalyptus has bark in a range of lovely soft colours, and I lost a 15 footer of the same variety because of the bitter winter. :O(

A view of the path into the garden.

Easter Sunday

2011-04-25T08:30:00.007+01:00

Constance, Felix, Gyp and, tho you can't see him hidden amongst the other fish, Paul.

What a lovely day we had yesterday in the gorgeous sunshine with lots of my favourite pleasures; huge bunches of flowers, family and lots of food, walking in the woods, chocolate and cricket in the paddock. The cricket went down extremely well with everyone and Felix got 167 runs (his own count) altho Gyp was voted best fielder and my husband got the only catch with the ball ending up between his knees and was declared Man of the Match.
Mind, after finishing the choc and banana trifle for supper I was all chocolated-out and took to my bed at 9pm :O)

Indulge yourself - I shall!

2011-04-24T08:30:00.001+01:00

Every year I look forward to warm August mornings when I can go outside in my DG to sit in the early sunshine and feed the fish after picking a handful of warm figs from the tree near the courtyard gate. It's one of the most anticipated pleasures of the month - but no more; the bitter winter has killed off both the fig trees. It's not surprising I suppose, given that figs are a mediterranean plant, but not a happy outcome for me.

Apart from grieving over my figs I've finished painting the new portico and, natch, it showed up the wood over the bay windows and so they had to be repainted. Cyclists passing and casting a glance at the house now risk retina burn from the brilliant white.

We have family coming to day to help me celebrate the end of my Lenten Fast and so, while my husband watched 'Shane' yet again yesterday afternoon (that irritating child really needs a good slap upside the head btw), I made indulgent deserts - chocolate and banana trifle, Belgian chocolate cake and chocolate chunk cookies. My 40 days of no chocolate, no bread, cake, sugar, biscuits, pasta, potatoes or rice lost me a not-so-grand total of 9lbs - by tonight it'll all be back on my backside.

Whatever sort of way you spend this Easter Sunday I hope that you can spend time with people you love. And that both you and I get a humungous Easter egg :O))

Geoff Hamilton lives on :O)

2011-04-22T14:21:00.000+01:00

If you have a bunch of spray carnations and they have sideshoots with no buds then stick them in potting compost and grow yourself some carnations for free.

If you have old packets of seeds - beetroot, carrot, spring onions, chard, or peas then put them in a jar, rinse with water every day for 4 days and grow your own sprouting seeds.
Alternatively put the old seed peas in compost and grow your own pea shoots for salads.

If a small branch breaks off a currant bush, stick it in a pot of compost and it'll grow roots and you'll have another bush for next year.

When you prune your forsythia any day soon, stick a cutting or two in compost and yep, you'll have extra forsythias for next year.

If you have a jar of coriander seeds in your spice cupboard then put a handful in compost and grow your own coriander plants - no need to buy special seeds.

If you bought too much ginger root then dry off the cut end and stick the piece in compost. You'll have a smashing grass type houseplant and you'll find the roots have not only kept fresh but grown when you empty the pot in late autumn.

When your forget me nots have finished flowering and gone leggy then pull them out gently and go shake them wherever you'd like forget me nots to grow next year.

When your strawberry plants start throwing out thei spindly side growths instead of cutting them all off make new plants by pegging the little plantlets down into a tichy pot of compost and then plant a new bed in the autumn.

Not a good start to my day

2011-04-21T08:56:00.002+01:00

A few weeks ago we decided to have the ratty looking portico around our main door replaced as it was crumbling away. I had Day Off Dave give me an estimate which turned out to be, imo, over the top and then had a 'proper' carpenter give an estimate. Oooh shock horror! Then I emailed Dave and suggested that I would paint it myself and so could he try again with his price and and after reducing by £250 he came a couple of weeks ago and built it. Very nice too altho he did leave the old wood for us to dispose of.
Yesterday I climbed the ladder and began glossing. ½ hour later my hands were whiter than the portico and I was spattered with white gloss and burning up in the sun. With the heat we're having lately this may be a looong day for me to get on with it. :O(

I also posted an offer yesterday of an under the counter refrigerator, freezer and a standard lamp on Freecycle and had folk arranged to collect them within less than ½ hour. I had an anxiety attack when I thought that someone had driven away with the freezer after asking for the fridge - and I had someone else due to collect the freezer. I felt a real twerp and I absolutely HATE showing myself up as a div before strangers. My husband is used to it of course :O)
Once I'd had a cigarette and calmed down I looked again at their initial emails and found that both parties had asked for both fridge and freezer so in fact it was all okay.

Horrible postscript: I was just out in my DG and bedroom slippers repotting some plants in my polytunnel and taking a break to watch a charm of goldfinches in my 'wild' area when I saw something which looked a bit like a large dead dog in the paddock. I crossed the veg patch to have a closer look. It was a dead foal born in the night and to add to the miserable scene there was a length of intestine drawn out across the grass. How very sad is that.

Cast your bread upon the waters :O)

2011-04-18T18:32:00.007+01:00

Crabby apple :O)

Who says dandelions are just a nuisance?

Waste ground to the side of the vegetable garden.

Man at Work!

On Saturday I offered a virtually new microwave/grill on Freecycle and had more than a dozen replies from folk wanting it. The first one turned out to be an ambulanceman as I discovered when he collected it en route to work - I like doing people a good turn and when it turns out to be someone who does work like that I'm doubly glad.

Yesterday evening I posted a Wanted ad on Freecycle for a food mixer and first thing this morning voila! there was an email offering one to me and I set off to collect it this afternoon from about 9 miles away. The donor was a lovely man, Christopher. who was a keen gardener, which was good as I'd taken half a dozen fantastic red rudbeckia as a thank you. His cottage was hidden away down a little track and to help me find it he had put an upended orange plastic bowl atop a white stick at the entrance to the track. He told me that he had been organist at a nearby church for 45 years, since he was 15 and that he walks there through the woods - SO Hardyesque!

It's a fair cop....

2011-04-14T20:19:00.002+01:00

A backbreaking day weeding, tying up climbing roses and clematis, drastically pruning a huge and lovely blue hydrangea which has been badly damaged by the bitter winter, sowing carrot and beetroot and digging out and removing two other shrubs which have failed to survive. I only straightened up my aching back and knees to watch a unique sight on our little lane; 15 police vans, 4 police cars and 2 police motorcycle riders all with their lights on tearing along in a very macho fashion.

I suspected that they'd heard that someone had bought in the doughnuts or that I'd been grassed up for not picking up every teensy bit of dogpoo yesterday, but on the local TV news I saw they'd been doing drug raids in a nearby little town. On TV I saw a copper cutting a bobby shaped hole in a door with a chainsaw. Other police forces use those ram things but not here, oh no, chainsaws are what do it for country rozzers.

Suddenly I feel so much safer now I know that our local cops are willing to drive past my house on a single lane road at approaching 90 mph to cut holes in the doors of adolescents dealing Class C drugs.

Correspondence Course with janeleg@hotmail.com

2011-04-13T17:13:00.004+01:00

Unfortunately I cannot show you the email from an unknown sender which initiated this brief exchange because I reported it as spam, but the gist of it was that the sender had been on a course for volunteer activists in Ireland and had been robbed. Her embassy had helped her re passport but she needed help with her fare home and hotel costs which the embassy wouldn't cover. She asked me to let her have £1,350 and promised to repay me as soon as she got home.

I replied:

Dear Jane What a sad tale, you have my full sympathy. Doubtless many people, friends of yours as I am, will respond with help via Western Union. When they do so I would be most grateful if you could send any excess to me as I too am awfully poor and needy and have fallen on hard times. Here's keeping my fingers crossed for both you and I.

Very best wishes
Jane xxx

To which she replied: ha ha very funny! Nobody is falling for this! Your isp and the mobile phone number you gave out has been passed on to the police.

I sent her one last email before I blocked her:

Jane, I'm shocked! I'd thought you a caring compassionate sort of woman and then you send me horrid wounding emails like this. Threatening people by email isn't clever, isn't nice - and isn't legal, Be a good girl and stop doing these bad bad things or you'll end up in prison with some very bad ladies indeed. Still, perhaps that's what you're hoping for. If so, best of luck with it :O)
Regards

Jane xxxx

I wandered lonely as a cloud...... :O)

2011-04-10T10:23:00.002+01:00

Yesterday afternoon was so lovely that I had to be outside and AWAY from the garden but, the Grand National being on TV at 4.15pm, my husband wanted to stay home and watch it. Or so he said

I took myself off to Whittington, a large village a few miles away. Whittington has a 13thC grey stone castle with a moat which was bustling with waterfowl - waterhens, coots, various types of duck and a pair of swans which breed there every year. There were ducklings running and scuttling on water all over the place and the cob swan was aggressively guarding his partner who was sitting atop an enormous pile of sticks and old reed stalks. White doves were doing their mating twizzles on the castle roofs and fluttering below the raucous jackdaw nests in the ash trees on the moat banks. It was idyllic and would have been even more so if this Lent diet hadn't prevented me from having coffee and cake from the cafe housed in part of the castle.

I had a walk around the old part of Whittington and through the churchyard on a broad pathway made of ancient gravestones dating from 1630 to 1820. I love reading the verses on gravestones this old because in those times the Victorian fashion for high faluting Latin hadn't found its feet and so they're plain to understand and enjoy for the tender sentiments.

I walked up Boot Lane and Daisy street looking at the sweet little rustic cottages and tidy gardens and saw one called 'Turn Again' - isn't that a memorable address? Turn Again, Whittington! after the tale of Dick Whittington who became the Lord Mayor of London. :O)

Garden notes

2011-04-08T17:22:00.007+01:00

The magnolia by the bay - battered and bruised by the winds but still holding its own. We grow (or did before my husband put in tulips thinking they were miniature daffs) only natural looking flowers under the fruit trees in our little orchard - altho 'orchard' is a bit posh for what after all is only 11 fruit trees. We have flowers there from the very first bulbs until 6 weeks after the last flowerhead has dried off which is usually about early August and that's when it gets its first strim and boy is it hard work cutting grass almost 2.5' high with cow parsley stalks in it. When it's cut tho it looks ace and the best bit is that we don't get our legs scratched by dry stalks when we're picking fruit. After the first cut then it gets a strim once a fortnight until December when we leave it then until the next August. If only all our grass could be left for 8 months without cutting!

Snakeshead fritillaries in the orchard - and there are a further 3 clumps which are self-sown seedlings from these originals.

One cowslip transplanted here about 7 years ago has now self-seeded and we have about a dozen lovely patches in the orchard.

Last night my husband was complaining about back ache from gardening and this morning, given the clothes he chose to wear, it was clear that he was planning on giving the toting and hauling a break. I don't like gardening jobs half done, because by the time you've caught up on the stuff which got left last time it's time to redo the first lot. Then the garden becomes a tyrant instead of just a bit of a back ache for a couple of days and a pleasure for the next 5/6.

So....... what could I possibly do to encourage a free independent self-willed man to change his mind?

'Aah, good, you don't plan on finishing those veg beds today then, excellent!' I said. 'Fancy a nice outing?' 'Lunch out maybe?'

'You do?? brilliant, let's go to Ikea and I can look at their kitchens!!!!!!!!

So we spent the day in the garden. And don't you dare say I'm manipulative

In memory of times past

2011-04-08T08:26:00.001+01:00

I've been reading a series of posts written by someone who wants to leave a memoire for his grandchildren in which he's been rehearsing various facts about his childhood. Today I read that he'd been talking it over with his mother and discovered that his memory of those far off days has been faulty in many respects. Memories Corrected -1 « Open Mind – A Life in Themes

It reminded me of one of my daughters who several times has mentioned one of her most beloved childhood memories of when we took her to a country park on a dark and snowy winter's night and she had a wonderful time sliding down snow covered hills sitting on a bin bag. The slopes were smooth and the stars were whirling above her and she had hot soup from a flask and a bacon sandwich by the light of the moon and it was truly magical.

It never happened. I had indeed suggested such an outing but her dad had decided against it as too dangerous in the midnight dark and ice and so we never went. We've never disabused Esther as she gets so much pleasure from this 'memory' that it would seem churlish to rob her of it.
But of course she, and the other sprogs, may equally likely have less good 'memories' based on promises - such as 'keep up that sulky stamping about upstairs young lady and I'll nail your feet to the floor'. Or perhaps 'One more word and it'll be a 7pm bedtime for a month'.

Some philosophers say that one's personality is, essentially, one's memories. Lose the memory and the personality is lost - and we see this when people develop severe memory loss through dementia, stroke or other head trauma. And yet if memories are false what does that say about the personality - is it really a result of environment and experiences or is it all self-constructed? Memory can also be very partial and we simply forget people, places or incidents, especially those which we've not had reason to refer to again since they occurred. For example, a couple of years ago I recalled something unpleasant which happened to me aged 9 and which I had never told anyone about. Would I have developed a different adult personality had that memory always been in my mind as I matured?

Have you ever rediscovered a memory which had escaped you before, or have some recollections of your childhood consciously influenced the way you think and act now?

Every Child Matters?

2011-04-04T09:27:00.000+01:00

The Education Secretary, Michael Gove, is to bring in a number of changes in schools to help teachers address pupils' misbehaviour. As someone who has spent many years working in a great number of schools across England I'm fully seized of the idea that teachers do indeed need guidance and assistance in dealing with some aspects of behaviour - violence, drug taking, the carrying of weapons in school and persistent bullying for example.

But Gove has gone too far in allowing teachers to undertake personal searches of pupils of the opposite sex without another adult being present. If implemented this will allow far too much potential scope for predatory, paedophile or psychologically unbalanced members of staff to exploit their position of authority - and the risk is added to by Gove's decision to allow headteachers to press criminal charges against pupils who make (in the headteacher's view) false allegations against teachers. Misused pupils who will have been mistreated in private, away from the view of any other person, will be left with no redress as a complaint could, or would, lead to a court case in the public eye.

Personally I think that this is a deplorable move which will expose children and protect abusers. If you agree with me then please email Michael Gove at: www. ministers@education.gsi.gov.uk

Catch Up

2011-04-03T17:49:00.003+01:00

Having a nice new outfit bought yesterday in Shrewsbury I felt impelled to go out wearing it today, as you do. So we went to Ludlow Antiques Fair because we'd never been before and it's a lovely drive along the A49 past the Long Mynd.
I've taken a vow never to add to my inherited and stored little collection of what Felix refers to as 'ormamunts' so I wasn't expecting much more than a nice morning out. Which was a good job because the Fair was rubbish. Go to Ludlow yes, it's a cracking little town with a great castle BUT don't go to the twice-monthly Antiques Fair. The most exciting things there were a black guy doing a superb job on the steel drums and the church bells actually playing recognisable tunes.
Natch as it's Mothering Sunday we couldn't get lunch for love nor money AND none of our kids sent me more then a card and txt. Not that I'm peeved you understand. But I do have a long memory.

At least the garden is looking good at the mo. The magnolia , which is as tall as the house and has just come into flower, got beaten up by the recent winds we've had over the past 3 days but there's still a lot of blossom left on it. The greengage and plum trees are in flower and the pear trees and apples and cherries are about to burst their buds. Under the trees in the orchard the fritillaries, grape hyacinths, bluebells, cowslips and anemones are looking lovely and it won't be long before the tulips are out. Yes, I know tulips is an odd one for an orchard, but that's what can happen when the bag of tulip bulbs is next to the bag of tete a tete and you ask your husband to plant the daffs.
In the borders the tulips are already out, as are the violets and wallflowers. The peonies and lilies and Japanese anemonies are all showing now. In fact it would all be smashing if the nettles and shepherd's purse and dandelions and clover weren't also growing an inch a day. So, all in all the garden's growing a treat. Especially the grass, since someone (not me) neglected to put oil in the petrol before the petrol was put into the strimmer. Still, £120 for new parts will sort that out, and fingers crossed, before the grass is above the tops of my wellies.

Do I sound grumpy today? Well, that's what ungrateful kids can do to you - or to me anyway :O))

Is it just me?

2011-03-31T13:14:00.001+01:00

What's wrong with me? I'm lacking something essential in my psychological make-up. I'm starting to get a bit anxious about it since I've noticed that compared to everyone on TV I'm so bland, so reserved, so unemotional .

It's not that I have an icy nature. I really enjoy lots of things such as gardening, cooking, reading, riding and oodles of other unremarkable pastimes. But here's the thing you see, I hugely enjoy them but I'm not passionate about them. I don't lust after making perfect scones, or break my heart when my dahlia cuttings don't take. I didnt sob when I got to the last chapter of 'True Grit' (which book, btw, I heartily recommend). I couldn't give a gnat's ass about who wins Dancing on Ice, or Poptastic. Okay I cried when the little nippers' Choir of the Year was on TV on Sunday, but having spent years listening to primary children killing melodies stone dead, I think that they are tears of relief rather than strong emotional response.

I dislike lots of things too, such as repeatedly disobedient children altho I've never felt passionate enough to actually strangle Felix (tho I've considered it more than once). I dislike men who puff themselves up by denigrating women, but I've never become emotional enough about it to have shot one yet. I dislike mean folk who are all take and no give, and if they persist with it long enough I drop them - but from my social circle rather than from a bullet to the kneecap. I've tried to be as passionate as these TV folk, passionate about gardening, passionate about an author, passionate about the wonders of nature - but it's no good, I'm just not built that way.

In any case, getting over-emotional gives me a headache, and that would wreck the pastime that I am passionate about! :O))

Adult Education - Men Only

2011-03-31T09:44:00.003+01:00

This is not my own work but was lifted from a Politics Goup:

The Adult Learning Centre REGISTRATION MUST BE COMPLETED by Monday 28 March 2011 NOTE: DUE TO THE COMPLEXITY AND DIFFICULTY LEVEL OF CONTENT, CLASS SIZES WILL BE LIMITED TO 8 PARTICIPANTS MAXIMUM .

Class 1 How To Fill Up The Ice Cube Trays--Step by Step, with Slide Presentation. Meets 4 weeks, Monday and Wednesday for 2 hours beginning at 7:00 PM.

Class 2 The Toilet Paper Roll--Does It Change Itself? Round Table Discussion. Meets 2 weeks, Saturday 12:00 for 2 hours.

Class 3 Is It Possible To Urinate Using The Technique Of Lifting The Seat and Avoiding The Floor, Walls and Nearby Bathtub?--Group Practice. Meets 4 weeks, Saturday 10:00 PM for 2 hours.

Class 4 Fundamental Differences Between The Laundry Hamper and The Floor-- Pictures and Explanatory Graphics. Meets Saturdays at 2:00 PM for 3 weeks.

Class 5 Dinner Dishes--Can They Levitate and Fly Into The Kitchen Sink? Examples on Video. Meets 4 weeks, Tuesday and Thursday for 2 hours beginning At 7:00 PM

Class 6 Loss Of Identity--Losing The Remote To Your Significant Other. Help Line Support and Support Groups. Meets 4 Weeks, Friday and Sunday 7:00 PM

Class 7 Learning How To Find Things--Starting With Looking In The Right Places And Not Turning The House Upside Down While Screaming. Open Forum . Monday at 8:00 PM, 2 hours.

Class 8 Health Watch--Bringing Her Flowers Is Not Harmful To Your Health. Graphics and Audio Tapes. Three nights; Monday, Wednesday, Friday at 7:00 PM for 2 hours.

Class 9 Real Men Ask For Directions When Lost--Real Life Testimonials. Tuesdays at 6:00 PM Location to be determined.

Class 10 Is It Genetically Impossible To Sit Quietly While She Parallel Parks? Driving Simulations. 4 weeks, Saturday's noon, 2 hours.

Class 11 Learning to Live--Basic Differences Between Mother and Wife. Online Classes and role-playing. Tuesdays at 7:00 PM, location to be determined

Class 12 How to be the Ideal Shopping Companion Relaxation Exercises, Meditation and Breathing Techniques. Meets 4 weeks, Tuesday and Thursday for 2 hours beginning at 7:00 PM.

Class 13 How to Fight Cerebral Atrophy--Remembering Birthdays, Anniversaries and Other Important Dates and Calling When You're Going To Be Late. Cerebral Shock Therapy Sessions and Full Lobotomies Offered. Three nights; Monday, Wednesday, Friday at 7:00 PM for 2 hours.

Class 14 The Stove/Oven--What It Is and How It Is Used. Live Demonstration. Tuesdays at 6:00 PM, location to be determined. Upon completion of any of the above courses, diplomas will be issued

Missing Paragraphs?

2011-03-31T09:38:00.000+01:00

When I posted my previous entry on this blog under the Compose tab I found that it published with no paragraphs.

I used the Edit Post tab and entered paragraphs several times with no better luck until I tried clicking the Edit HMTL tab and entering the paragraphs there.

It worked a treat. If you're having similar problems then do try it :O)

Band of Brothers

2011-03-29T17:36:00.008+01:00

When I was a child I had an elder brother and we were close in age (15 months) and close in temperament. I remember playing dollies and dinky cars, or chalking and painting water on slabs in our garden with him when we were too small to go to play in other childrens' gardens, and then later we would go flying kites, sledging, fishing, and playing team games with the same coterie of neighbourhood children. I followed a year behind him at school and we walked there and came home together. We shared a bedroom and held each others hands when we'd been smacked - or were frightened that we might be. He looked after me and we loved each other. He died in a traffic accident when I was eight.

My first husband was an only child and so I've had just the one brother in law. He lived, with the rest of my (2nd) husband's family of origin, in Devon and so we saw him infrequently, especially after the children were all grown and flown and my lovely Mum in law had passed away, but we spoke on the phone regularly and occasionally spent long weekends either here or there. He was a lovely man with a good sense of humour, an artist, and like my dad a stoic, and he suddenly and unexpectedly died in a matter of moments from heart failure last week.

I have a younger brother who has suffered with mental illness since he was a teenager. He once took a flying kick into the tummy of one of my children when she was 18 months old and then ran off. Many times he raised his fists to my parents. The last time I saw him was more than 5 years after my first marriage broke down and he then launched into a loud and physically threatening tirade at me for leaving my first husband. I have no idea now where he is or even if he still lives.

Brothers, in my personal experience, can be a mixed bag but 2 out of 3 whom I'd give my eye teeth to have back ain't bad.

You can quote me on that :O))

2011-03-26T17:42:00.001Z

I missed out on two huge money making opportunities yesterday. Firstly I was only 5 numbers away from winning £117,000,000 on Euromillions, phew, how close was that! I swear, if ever I do win over a hundred million quid I will give every one of my select band of followers £½ million so keep your fingers crossed for me :O)

Secondly I knew precisely where to lay my hands on several pounds in weight of pure 22ct gold - under my son in law's bed. He returned home in the small hours from Singapore where he'd been officiating in very fancy dress as his University's Pro Vice Chancellor and the gold mace had to be kept at home until the morning. If only I'd thought in time I could have bribed Constance or Felix with a Mars bar (utterly forbidden fruit) to sneak into daddy's bedroom, lift the mace and bury it in the garden for me to dig up later. Life is full of doomed opportunities don't you find?

I dunno whether anyone watched the BBC4 series on Justice which ended last week? It was a series of seminars taken at Harvard by Michael Sandel and was absolutely fascinating - one of the very best things on TV over the past couple of months - and his book has this morning arrived from Amazon.
It's a source of wonder and grief to me that altho I read so much really good stuff after a few weeks I've forgotten much of it. When I was at University I could always recall quotes - but never recall who said them or where. I'm still the same :O(
Who was it who said something about casting pearls before swine? :O))

Goodbye to all that

2011-03-24T15:42:00.000Z

My brother in law's funeral went as well as a funeral can. There were so many mourners that about 2 dozen couldn't get in and had to stay outside, which was a great shame as some had come very long distances. It was a 'green' and humanist funeral, with a wicker casket and natural flowers and my hub gave a eulogy on which he got many compliments. It's a shame that once a family's children are all wed the only times that the clan gathers en masse is to bury someone, but I think all families are the same in that, especially when they're geographically widely spread. The post funerary repast, which I made the mistake of referring to as the bunfight, took place at the trez posh Paignton Club - pictures of HMQ and past Lord Mayors everywhere - but right on the seafront so the smokers had the best views of all.

As so often at funerals lots of amusing old family tales were retold altho often in hushed tones as the unwitting subjects of the story might hove into hearing at any moment. We heard again how a 14 year old nephew whose ex girlfriend had been found to be pregnant had been quizzed by his worried Gran but had reassured her that they hadn't had intercourse. 'Honest Nan, we only did oral'. His Nan, my lovely now deceased Mum in law, when telling me about it said 'well Jane, children of that age! It really leaves a nasty taste in your mouth, doesn't it'. lolol

So after a 6 hour drive we got home to a dogless house and so tomorrow it's another 100 miles each way to fetch her home again. That'll be 800 miles this week, and I've driven every one of them. :O(

Go on, say it - I can take it. Or I can put out a contract on you :O))

2011-03-20T16:21:00.002Z

Something seemingly quite unpleasant has been going on with some bloggers apparently although I'm not one of the cognosenti to what's gone on. I do know that a blog which I always read has been taken offline and I'm assuming - and from remarks made by other bloggers -that it's because of adverse comments which have upset the blogger. This is a lady who once was displeased with a (imo fairly mild) comment I made on one of her blog entries and who removed it and I found that further comments were subject to approval for a period afterward.

I didn't mind that - it was her blog and as she said to others who'd annoyed her - it was her blog, not a message board for exchange of views, and if they didn't like what they read then they could stop reading the blog.

That's a point of view I can understand but I don't share. From time to time folk have made adverse comments on my blog but I haven't got upset about it and one comment, posted by Anonymous, embarrassed me so I removed it.
Otherwise I enjoy an exchange of views - I would especially enjoy being challenged about what I've said so that the comments became a dialogue, hopefully with both sides having a proper say and not taking their ball home in tears.

Of course I say this in ignorance of what's gone on - but blog owners are easily able to remove comments, or block individuals from posting further comments - and it seems to me that with those tools for censorship available to bloggers then we should be big girls and boys and take it on the chin - or give as good as we get.

Appropos of which, I shall be away for a few days attending a funeral in Devon - so if you want to criticize what I've said or just have a chunter then go right ahead, but mind, if you use obscene language I shall delete your comment. Unless it's too funny to remove :O))

Blue Moons and Dog Days

2011-03-19T19:53:00.003Z

If it's night time wherever you are, stop whatever you're doing right this minute, go outside, and see this glorious 'blue' moon. Don't miss this chance because it'll be 20 years before the moon is as close to the Earth again - especially if, like me, the chances are that you'll have popped your clogs by 2031!
If you're in the UK then don't delay - the skies are clouding over.

We took our dog Gyp to family in Leicestershire today to be looked after while we're away at this upcoming funeral. As always she was in ecstasies when we turned into my daughter's street and immediately tore out of the car and into Felix's 'best' football which she dribbled into a nearby garden until she got it stuck in some shrubs. After a couple of hours of mad screaming playtime with the children she sat on my husband's knee and then went to sit immediately behind the front door, ready to go home for a quiet kip. We felt absolutely heartless telling her to stay, and eventually she had to be removed from the hall so that we could get out without her.
Felix said he was going to ring Dogline and tell on us.

Felix caught me having a cigarette in the garden and solemnly informed me that if I didn't stop straight away I would die young. Then he had a look at me and said 'still...............' 'Still what?' sez me. 'Well' he said 'that can't be true because you're already old Granny'.

Now - GO OUTSIDE AND SEE THE MOON!!!

STOP Thief!!!!

2011-03-16T20:21:00.002Z

Today's BBC news carries a story about a woman warned by police for allowing her children to pick daffodils planted by her council's Parks Dept. She claimed she didn't know that taking cultivated flowers which do not belong to you was illegal. I'm a great one for passivism, me, famous for turning the other cheek etc - but if she or her thieving children tried that on in MY orchard I'd set the dog on them.
In fact along the lane from my house a farmer whose house is adjacent to the lane planted hundreds of daffodils along the grass verge a few years ago and yesterday I noticed a parked car which, as there's nothing along that lane but the farmer's house and a grain drying barn, is very unusual and I wondered if someone was ill inside so had a peer as I gingerly went past (it's a single track lane). The driver was a few yards further around the bend, busily cutting daffodils to add to the 2 large bunches cut and laying on the grass. I took him to task in a fairly brusque and strident manner and, blushing mightily, off he went. He was 75 if he was a day. Go figure.

I've spent 2 hours grass cutting today and now it's soccer on TV again, sometimes it's easy to feel got-at don't you find? Anyway a referee at one of the weekend matches was called (honestly!) Mr Twat, and tonight one of the players is called Jerkov. I rest my case.

I have a funeral to attend next week. I have to wear dark clothing. I've done one week of Lenten Atkin's and lost 6lbs. The one suitable black skirt I own is several inches too big around the waist and gapes out but still too tight around the beam for much pew sitting in comfort. I have to go shopping and I feel dreadful about it, as if I'm using a death as a retail opportunity. If I could get away with a binbag then I'd go with that.

Oi, weasel face, listen up

2011-03-14T13:52:00.003Z

Bernardo Hees, the newly appointed boss of Burger King recently spoke to students in Chicago and, in an effort to engage with them (?), said that British women are not attractive and that British food is crap.

Now, I'm a woman who, God knows, can use some constructive criticism altho I'm not keen on taking it from tiny Sarkozy lookalikes who flog 950 calorie e-coli loaded buns in their millions to the sylph-like Chicago women he was trying to suck up to - and who I sure hope already know that a Burger King has DOUBLE the amount of saturated fat even than a Big Mac.

Hees, a natural-born silver-tongued charmer, formed these completely unbiased views when he was a student himself at Warwick University, where, from the sound of it he got an un'gentlemanly' 3rd. If so, presumably his thwarted libido prevented him from studying his coursework and left him wasting study time by hopelessly dribbling after nubile English roses who knew a slimey whinger when they saw one.

I bet he has tiny feet too

Not that I'm feeling a surge of patriotism you understand :O)

Pass that Lamb's lettuce..........

2011-03-13T15:38:00.000Z

Yesterday was (yet another of) those Saturdays where one rugby match follows another on TV. Not that I'm moaning, as my husband said, if I wanted he could change channel and put the Arsenal soccer game on. He's just a prince amongst men offering to give up his rugby, innit? :O)

I was, truly, hoping to use that period of time to give the grass its first cut of the year. No, honestly. Well, not absolutely honestly but the thought had occurred to me.
Fortunately it rained a bit. Enough of a bit so that I could peer out of the window and say 'damn, and I wanted to spend a couple of hours cutting the grass' and then give my glued-to-the-TV spouse a holier than thou sort of look.

Anyways I spent some of the time reading part of a really amusing book '1000 Years Of Annoying The French' by Stephen Clarke, and then 'The Triumph Of The Political Class' by Peter Oborne - both of which books I highly recommend.
After the Oborne I decided to give my brane a rest and made some Walnut & Chocolate Oat Cookies. They looked so absolutely fab that I thought 'sod Atkins' and ate one surreptitiously out of my husband's line of sight. Sadly, he saw the crumbs on my jumper before I did, but he now has 27 of them all to himself. Lucky beggar - and as he's currently watching yet ANOTHER rugby match, he's an IDLE lucky beggar :O)

Shall I do a ickle crying face now?

2011-03-13T09:13:00.001Z

I feel very very sorry for all those poor Japanese people whose lives have been devastated by the recent earthquakes and tidal wave, and by the deaths and damage that has been caused. If there is a call for funds to provide practical help to the Japanese then I shall send a donation because that is the only type of help that I can offer.

What I will not do is type tear-spotted messages on message boards intended for the discussion of British affairs and I tend to despise those who do so - especially when those boards are private and cannot be read by non-members, not even any suffering Japanese who want to take a brief online break from searching for the bodies of family members. As if.
In my opinion the message that type of post conveys is 'look at ME, I'm really empathetically suffering because those Japanese people are dying and I'm a truly caring and tender-hearted human being'.

Well I don't think that they are suffering or that they really really care about the dead and their grieving relatives in far away Japan - they are merely stroking their own egos with crocodile tears.

Perhaps you think, reading this, that I'm hard-hearted. I'm not, I think a terrible human tragedy has occurred in Japan but dreadful for them as it is it hasn't actually had any effect on my life whatsoever and I won't pretend it has or that I'm traumatised by it.

Yeah, okay, I am hard hearted. But only towards crinoids who smear self-indulgent tears on my monitor.

Spring sprink

2011-03-10T16:38:00.004Z

Spring has arrived beyond my windows with gambolling lambs in Pugh's field, seen here taking a bow and leaving the stage after making their tapdancing debut on the metal cover of my old septic tank.
We used to have dozens of ewes and lambs in our paddock each spring until Pugh decided to replace them with a permanent collection of grouchy and disreputable-looking rams, and then after we put ponies in alongside them he got the hump and took his rams home. Now tho he's stopped renting out his field the other side of our paddock and put it back to grazing land so we expect to see hundreds of little Sunday lunches leaping about again soon, albeit it at a bit more of a distance now.

Now that shrubs and trees have begun to show new budding I'm coming to the conclusion that we've lost 3 ceanothus - all 'Italian Skies', a fabulous royal blue colour - and 4 eucalyptus trees are almost totally bereft of leaves so I suspect the winter freeze has done for them too, one of approx 45' height, and one of the lovely variety with silver/olive/white patches on the trunk.
On the other hand, the plum trees are budding up and the cowslips are coming into flower in the orchard so tho death and disaster have struck there's always something new coming into season - and the rhubarb's coming on a treat too.

England's Glorious Past....

2011-03-09T15:01:00.001Z

At a slight tangent to yesterday's entry one of my sprogs sent me a fascinating link to the 350 year old notebook describing the execution of innocent women for 'consorting with the devil'. The notebooks have now been digitized and are online for anyone interested to read: http://bit.ly/h1sb7A

The notebook was written by Puritan writer Nehemiah Wallington, a turner by trade and a Christian by religion, who was battling with the adversities of life in the 17thC. He describes a supposed coven of witches who lived in the Suffolk village of Manningtree.
Unfortunately for them, Manningtree was also home to the Witchfinder General Matthew Hopkins, notorious for his brutality against women. In 1645 the Witchfinder General examined one of the suspected witches Elizabeth Clarke for ‘devil’s marks’ like warts or moles. Under torture, Elizabeth then named other women as witches including her own daughter Rebecca, who later confessed to being a witch.

19 women were eventually hanged, though Rebecca was saved thanks to her confession.The witchcraft trial is just one of the fascinating episodes contained in Wallington's notebook, one of only seven remaining out of the 50 diaries he wrote, which documents his attitudes to life, religion and the civil war.

The notebooks can be enlarged on your monitor so that you can read them comfortably and I hope you find them as interesting as I did :O)

International Women's Day

2011-03-08T14:55:00.002Z

Well, it's International Women's Day and to mark the occasion here in the UK a Scots Glasgow councillor asked whether a rape victim aged 9 years old 'wanted it'.
I wonder why he didn't go along to the Rape Crisis Centre and ask the little girl herself. Perhaps he could have inspected her vaginal stitches - you know, just to make sure that she really didn't like it.

Personally I think someone should look his background up and see if he's linked to the Scottish bastard who raped the 2 month old baby a few years ago.

In the USA a New York Times columnist opined that contraception should be done away with because that would make women happier.

Pointing to some mad Christian evangelist 'research' which claimed that women in monogamous relationships with boyfriends or husbands are happier, he argues that contraception advice works against women's happiness because it implies that not all sex occurs within a monogamous relationship (which, natch, makes women happier no matter the quality of the relationship OR the sex!).

Deprive women of contraceptive advice and they will suddenly become boyfriended and, natch, simply having an available penis close to hand (oooh missus) will mean that women will never ever be sad again.

Doesn't matter if he hits you poppet, and don't just lay back and endure it, smile!!!!

Now, who's the saddest of all - the two wankers above or those thick women who think it's clever to call themselves 'post-feminist'?

Catch Up

2011-03-06T01:50:00.003Z

Last Saturday and Sunday were no-charge days for offering stuff for sale on ebay, and as I made £250 the last time they had 'free' days I decided to go for it again and put up 9 items on Saturday and 11 on Sunday - all auctions ending over this weekend. Today I sold 7 and made £199 and have another 11 ending tomorrow with bids of £82 so far. Having 2 rugby matches and a soccer match last weekend and 5 hours of athletics on TV today helped my decision to muck about on ebay but most of all I'm getting shot of stuff we have absolutely no further use for

One of the items sold today was a mandolin that my husband had much coveted in the music shop and must have played, ooooh, say 8/10 times in all. He was a bit put out when I asked if I could sell it but actually had the nerve to smirk when I said I was going to sell my second fiddle saying that it would fetch nothing. Well, my violin auction doesn't end until Sunday and already the highest bid is more than the mandolin fetched. I shall seek out and dust off his autoharp, dobro guitar and squeezebox ready for the next 'free' ebay days - but he's definitely not getting his mits on the loot else he'll only add to his harmonica collection. I keep telling him that he may look like Dylan but he's not got the voice :O)

Other than ebaying I've been out in the garden hard pruning the crimson stemmed shrub cornus, fixing up birdboxes in the ivy on the cottage walls, chitting 'Jersey' spuds in the polytunnel, fishing dead uns out of the pond, listening to larks and jays above the paddock and admiring the celandines and scilla coming into flower in the orchard.

Indoors I've had the imminent arrival of Lent on my mind and the consequent fact that I have very few days left to stuff myself with carbs. So I've been baking up a storm; lemon cake, bara brith, chicken and mushroom pie, peanut butter biscuits, chocolate brownies and plum crumble. Lent will have to last 400 days to get that lot off my lardy arse and I shall have to stick to Atkins like no-carb glue else before long I shall need to grow a leg on each corner. :O(

I also, and this is very very rare, washed all the floors that are not carpeted, which is the whole of the ground floor and the family bathroom. If only I'd thought I should have taken photos as proof! :O)

On yer bike :O)

2011-02-28T17:44:00.002Z

Yesterday on Countryfile poor John Craven, known in this house as 'Bad News Boy' because he always gets the glum stuff to do, did a piece on how low income couples can't buy a house in the Cotswolds. The 20 somethings that he spoke to each lived with their parents and weren't happy about it and both thought it was very unfair that they couldn't afford to buy a house near their parents' homes.

The Cotswolds are a much sought after area - one among many - and in the case of the Cotswolds imo it's not that the landscape of itself is so outstanding altho it's pleasant enough, but that the local stone architecture set within that landscape makes it special. Because it is special a lot of people want to live there and because demand outstrips supply, local folk exactly like that young couple's parents sell at a bigger than the average profit and therefore prices go up out of the reach of young local people. And that is exactly what happened to those properties sold as 'formerly council' too.

The implicit suggestion in this Countryfile piece was that something should be done, and pdq. Presumably that would mean attempting to pox the Cotswolds with massive 'affordable' (ie low production cost) estates - as if there's any chance of new social housing being built in todays' economic and political climate and as if the current wealthy and influential Cotswoldians would just lay back and relax and watch their views and their house values turned to dust before their eyes!

Now I find it hard to work out quite why having had the great good fortune to have been born and raised in a lovely location means that you should have a right to live there forever - but having a family who are widespread because after taking the best advantage of free state education they all shifted their backsides and moved where the work was - perhaps that's just me.

But there's also the unpleasant corollary of course - if you had the misfortune to be born in an inner city dump, or, say, Nuneaton then that's where you'd have to stay all your life.
Well, I guess that young couple and John Craven would think that's okay. I don't.

All's well that ends :O)

2011-02-28T09:54:00.000Z

I've had a funny weekend with a number of little niggles - not helped by 2 rugger games and a soccer match on TV - which began when I managed to shatter my largest Pyrex casserole dish which fell onto tiled floor. About a zillion nasty sharp little shards of glass went skittering across the sitting room parquet, scaring the crap out of the dawg who rushed behind the TV stand and pulled the lamp down, breaking it. She's been traumatized ever since, poor thing.

Then I had to chop down my humungous Rosemary plant which has been killed by the winter cold. This plant, which was about 30 years old, filled half the floor base of a former greenhouse which I've been using as a herb bed, and was about 4' high, so I shall really miss its lovely fragrance altho secateuring the branches for the recycling bin was an olfactory pleasure.

Finally yesterday my car windscreen was cracked by a stone chipping thrown up by a passing young man. The worst part about this happening is that the Stirling Moth who created the problem zoomed on in blissful uncaring ignorance thus depriving me of the opportunity to personally express my annoyance (shoot the git).

Still, that headache finally went on Wednesday after 13 days and, fingers crossed, hasn't returned so all in all I'm a happy bunny. :O)

Birthday fun

2011-02-25T15:54:00.004Z

I had a lovely day yesterday. The walk was a bit too long, especially as I had a minimum of 3 children hanging on to me at any one time, but it was great to be out in the sunshine seeing the snowdrops and celandines and little lambs, and then the kids competing to climb up the highest in an oak tree. 4 year old Felix looked very small as he straddled a high branch screaming his head off because the other kids ran off and left him there but fortunately that was at a considerable distance so the racket he was making caused no real disturbance to our discussion and we women stayed sunning ourselves on a bench and left the blokes to form a rescue plan.
And altho coming back to tea with mango trifle and chocolate cake isn't to be sniffed at either, I'm tempted to say that best of all they all went home at 6pm because of the long drives before they could get children to bed :O)

This is my fave birthday card and it's a view of our front garden (the blue lump is the pond) - I especially like the wasp and the fact that the caterpiller has taken bites out of the leaves :O))

All this and no diamond studs in sight!

2011-02-23T17:57:00.002Z

Tomorrow I'm being indulged and spoiled because it's my birthday. Yup, I'm 21 again...

Being spoiled means that I must be up at the crack of dawn, not to leap on the laden Postie with his sacks of goodies, nor to open the door to blokes lugging humungous bouquets. I must be up in the pre-dawn to eradicate every last solitary little white dog hair from the house because one of my visitors has developed an allergy to dog hair, so it'll be hoovering, dusting, vaccing the curtains and sofa and the stairs and bathroom. Mind, I mustn't use polish because another of my visitors has an allergy to polish. She also has an allergy to pollen so altho the roses can stay the lilies have to be hidden away.

When I've done all that I'll be free to knock up some sort of ragu but with (oh the horror) minced Quorn instead of meat because several of my visitors are vegetarian. Then there's just a mango trifle (no sherry for the children next time please Mum) and a huge chocolate cake (2 sons in law with stomachs the size of wheeliebins) to be constructed ready for the demolition crew.

I need to get all that done by 10am because 'we thought it would be nice if we all went for a good long walk Mum'. Well, long and hilly country walks with a 4 year old in tow are always great fun......
Sometimes I wish I just had an Ambassador to spoil me with one of those heaps of Ferrero Rocher chocolates like in the TV ads rather than family who are all skiving a day off work to tootle out here and eat me out of house and home

Not really, I'm just kidding about wanting an Ambassador. :O)

Shameless!

2011-02-23T08:40:00.004Z

Sometimes TV programmes show people who live their lives in a semi-permanent state of filthy drunkenness, or people who have serial adulterous and insanitary sexual affairs, or families riven by child abuse or child abandonment, wife beating, or lives ruined by drugs, sexual violence, prostitution, drug dealing, racketeering, impulsive bloody violence, conscienceless theft, armed robbery. These things happen in the majority of societies around the world and portraying them on TV can raise awareness of the social issues involved.

One TV show in the UK shows a very small group of people whose lives regularly involve each and every one of the activities above: 'Shameless', which I occasionally watch because, in spite of their loathsome behaviour and attitudes, the characters come across as very engaging and the tales are told in often a very amusing way.

That's the problem I have with it. Engaging characters, most physically attractive, handy with witty sharp retorts, with their own (deviant) sense of honour and loyalty to each other can lead one to overlook the effect of such series on the acceptability of the behaviours portrayed.

I believe that such fictional series over time - and Shameless has run for several years - move the goalposts of what is acceptable. It may be slight, but it's cumulative imo, and has lead the UK closer to an acceptance of antisocial attitudes and behaviours to the extent that, as one of the main characters says at the beginning of each weekly episode, 'This is OUR (their) England now'. Sadly it seems to be becoming so, and series like Shameless have helped to bring that sorry state about.

In the meantime while this series is very popular and passes without comment, viewers write in to media companies in their thousands complaining bitterly about petty inconsequential matters - the regional accents of announcers, the coloured socks worn by presenters, the mild challenging of politicians by interviewers and the fact that bimbos wear hair extensions in shampoo advertisements.

Shameless? We're well on the way.

Put the flags out :O)

2011-02-22T17:47:00.001Z

Did you hear today church bells ringing out across this greenish and fairly pleasant land and note the celebratory flags flying from every spire and pole? Well, of course you did, and that's because today was one of those Extra Special Days. Yes, entirely voluntarily I cleaned the inside of the car INCLUDING the windows. I suspect this may lead to an MBE very shortly. Or should. :O)

Oh Happy Day......... sing out now :O)

2011-02-21T14:38:00.000Z

Let hearts across the nation leap with unfettered joy at the latest report from 'boffins' at the Scientific Advisory Committee on Nutrition, for they say that the current daily recommended calorie allowance is too low.

The limit of 2000 a day for women doesn't allow enough for the calories we 'work off' when we sleep or breathe. Well, I'm not one to blow my own trumpet but I very regularly do both at the same time! Yup, I can multitask and that, as other boffins know, is because I have ovaries.

But those very special SACN boffins - who are now definitely on my Christmas Card list - go even further in their offering for domestic harmony, and mayhap even world peace - the amount extra we can eat is EXACTLY the number of calories in a bar of chocolate!

See? There IS a God and all's right with the world.

Btw, many thanks for the kind comments on my cross stitch efforts.

Calorie intake guideless set to rise : MYDaily UK

Catch up

2011-02-19T19:04:00.002Z

Right, it's been over 8 stricken days now so that means my headache cannot be a headache but a brain tumour, and as far as I'm concerned a brain tumour means I should get Judge Judy style solitaire 2 carat (minimum) diamond studs for my birthday next week, right? Fair's fair, and if I'm about to expire then I want a teensy share of the loot before my ears fall off.
What I want and what I'll get however is a moot point but if it's another homemade card then someone else may have a headache before next week is out :O)

Other than that, my week's been okish and full of the usual domesticity but I'm just guessing that tales of cooking, laundry, walking the dog etc would be unlikely to be especially rivetting :O)

Since I first began trying to sell on ebay I've offered a pasta machine for sale twice with no interest whatsoever. Last weekend was a no charge period so I thought I may as well try again as it was cost-free. This time I've got 25 buyers watching it and have had 11 bids so far - Sod's Law I suppose.

I have made £280 this month on ebay which paid for the framing of the cross stitch below plus plenty of change left over. I really enjoy making up my own cross stitch designs, naive (the more acceptable way of saying 'crude') tho they are, and this one is my version of the Tree Of Life. The parts I enjoy sewing the best tho are the border designs and, except that it would look dull, I'd be inclined to do a whole one of nothing but borders.

I've had an email from one of my granddaughters asking me to sponsor her for reading books in aid of water for Africa. I mentioned it to her mother and she told me to bear in mind that Grace is reading at the rate of 3 books a day - and the thing lasts a whole month! She's borrowing the thinnest books in the library, the cheeky madam. I can't think where she gets it from!

Oh bugger

2011-02-16T21:12:00.001Z

What a weird few days I've had - in fact if I were 14 years old I might even say that it's been a TOTAL TRAUMA. But as I'm a rational woman instead I'll say it's very much been a matter of lows and highs.

I've had a severe headache since last Friday and I was just about teed off with it (ie ready to murder the next person who asked me how I was) when the vision in my left eye went awry and everything I looked at through that eye was wavy, like water waves reflected. The pain went but suddenly I had to lay on the sofa with my eyes closed - more of a wimp than when the headache was making me nauseous! Nevertheless, happy day, the headache was gone!
Then the sight improved and the headache came back. Weird, no? You've been warned - don't ask me how I am in comments!!!!

Then, after several days (weeks) positively STUFFING myself with scrumptious fattening foods I discovered that just for once Shrove Tuesday and Ash Wednesday aren't happening as I'd thought - and binged in preparation for - in February but in March! I didn't know whether to cheer because I have a couple more weeks of chocolate cake and treacle tart with clotted cream, weep because I've already added several pounds to the mass I have to lose on Atkins during Lent, or just put myself inside a hole until I can cope with having been such a div.
I suspect this might be God's way of teaching me that I should start going to church regularly again even if only to stay au fait with the liturgical calendar.

Earlier this evening, having seen that there was an Arse Vs Barse soccer match on TV tonight, I switched on my router so that I could do some surfing rather than have to respond as if I were interested in my husband's commentary on the players' uselessness and doubtful parentage.
OH THE HORROR, THE HORROR - I couldn't get online. Now, few things unsettle me as much as being deprived of the net. Dishwasher packing in, washing machine flooding the utility room, Hoover fekt, even car failing to start - I can cope with those things easy peasy - but no surfing??? Has the world gone quite MAD?
So, as I'm with aol I rang India and asked if the server for my region was down. Now, wouldn't you think that aol technical help would know if a server had fallen out of the sky or whatever they do to upset paying customers?
Well, he didn't know. What he did know was how to tell me to rejig all the settings on my router. And the result? I STILL COULDN'T GET ONLINE.
Oh, he says, then the server must be down. Switch your router off and try again later.

And they say romance is dead.......

2011-02-13T16:58:00.004Z

Today, in the pouring rain I felt the almost primordial urge to buy some sink unblocker and yoghurt - all red-blooded woman, me.
I thought, hmm, I'll go when the rugby is on TV and then I can mooch amongst the dogfood and colinders to my heart's content, but no, my husband volunteered to go with me. But it's chucking it down I said. Noo, no problems, I'll help you loading the boot he said. Most suspicious.

Once in the supermarket he tried to slouch off in an extremely furtive manner and I caught him looking at some humungous bunches of red roses - £45!! and he knows full well that I loathe the substitution of cliche for genuine expressions of care.
Plus I prefer humungous bunches of yellow roses anyway, but with Valentine's Day tomorrow anyone wanting to stray from the red rose litter is on a loser.

So, I thought, that's that. No flowers, no card, nuffink for me tomorrow - but I thought wrong. While I unloaded the boot in the pouring rain he rushed inside. Oooh I thought, he actually managed to buy me something truly super and romantic. In Sainsers??

But no, he was rushing inside and abandoning me to the rain in order to switch the rugby on. I'm not too keen on the French myself but I do think he could at least have missed the start of the match and hefted a couple of those sodding huge 'green' grocery bags, especially as they were half full of his faves anyway.

Still, romance isn't quite dead. He's sitting now attempting to make me a Valentine's card. He's had a couple of tries at flowers and I've seen them - in the bin. I suspect I shall get a traced heart, crayonned in.
Hopefully he'll be a tad better at colouring than 4 year old Felix whose red crayonned 'I lov yuo grany' card arrived yesterday. But I'm not betting on it.

PS. 14th Feb. Well I did get a card from my chosen one. Apparently it's a dahlia. Bless.
I'm intoning my new mantra....... it's the thought that counts.........it's the thought that counts....... :O))

Foiled!

2011-02-11T08:23:00.004Z

Damn, today our electricity supply is going to be cut off temporarily, they say from 9am to 5pm. So that means no vacuuming and no ironing. I shall have to resort to some retail therapy and lunch in town. I'm gutted.

Lent Cometh

2011-02-10T12:53:00.003Z

Once again Lent is sprinting towards us, just in time to stop me from having a blow out on my birthday :O(
I've been mulling over the various things I could deny myself this year and have been trying to think of something new. In the past I've given up chocolate; cakes, biscuits and pastries; meat; and white foods (potato, rice, pasta, bread & milk) but I'm a bit stumped as to what new thing I could go for.

As usual I weigh more than I'd ideally like to weigh so I shall be sticking to strict Atkins for the entire 40 days but given that Atkins means I can eat as much meat and cheese and cream as I can stuff myself with it's not too much of a hardship. I much prefer to choose things for Lent that I have a hope of keeping up for the entire period, so some things are losers from the get go - like swearing at the TV for example which is one of my more economic hobbies, or eye rolling at my husband, or reloading the dishwasher after he thinks he's already done it satisfactorily.
[Btw, if men are supposed to have better spatial awareness than women why can none of the beggars load a dishwasher properly?]

Anyways, I don't keep the Lenten Fast for religious reasons but because I think that exercising willpower for extended periods strengthens it, and who knows, one day I may turn into an Iron Lady but with much better dress sense and hairdo :O)

Will you be giving anything up for Lent? Remember, giving BJs doesn't count! lolol soz for that, I couldn't resist!

Yay, I LOVE blokes who can! :O)

2011-02-09T18:44:00.003Z

Well I'm feeling pretty pleased with myself! I just sold my 4 1/2 year old washing machine for 50% of the original purchase price and the 'man with a van' who came with the buyer to collect it is going to come and chop up and clear the mess and take away the fallen pear tree tomorrow for only £25.
Way to go, me! :O))

Oh wot a whoppa!

2011-02-09T16:19:00.001Z

I heard a reference this morning on R4 to 'the biggest lie you've ever told' and it reminded me of my own. In fact there are lots of lies for me to choose from - as can be said for every heterosexual woman under the sun :O) - but the absolutely most outrageous one stands out a mile.

I was a participant in a short course on basket making - yes, I know, how WI of me but I made 2 excellent good sized baskets which now hold lovely aspidistras so all your slings and arrows can't hurt me :O)
As we all sat around the large bench the course leader decided to do some group bonding. Now I've worked for and with local authorities in the past and have had group bonding sessions up to my ears and have zero patience with them.
'Perhaps we can start by going round the table and sharing what we do for a living' was the suggestion. Yeah, right.

So when it got to me I said I was a brain surgeon. I assumed that the other participants would realise that I was bulls-ing until in the car park I was approached by a vet who asked if, even tho my clinical work was with people, I would be willing to look over a patient at her equine practice.
I dunno who was more embarrassed, me when I told her I wasn't actually a brain surgeon unless banging squabbling kids heads together counted or she who was brought face to face with her own gullibility.

Perhaps you've told an outrageous lie that you'd be willing to share? If so, please blog about it and include a link to here - I'm fed up of being Billy No Mates and want to up my visitor numbers :O))

And I made pre-Lent biscuits! :O))

2011-02-08T17:36:00.003Z

How great to at long last have a day without wind! I ventured out to the polytunnel and apart from needing a good sweep out and tidy up everything's fine and the polycovering is intact. Some of my chrysanthemum plants have survived and it's time for taking cuttings and for seed sowing in there.

We went a good walk, about 1½ hours along the bridlepaths and through the woods and the snowdrops were without number. Every year I come across a small number of bulbs which have been scratched up by animals and I always put them in my pocket and bring them home to plant under my beech hedge - I have 7 really good clumps from the same 'found' source under there.

We spent about an hour fishing dead leaves out of the ponds - I need to keep the frog's favourite pond as clear as possible before they start to spawn because once the squillions of tadpoles are on the go we're stuffed for clearing stinky old magnolia leaves - and boy do they stink!

Summat's shifting out there :O)

2011-02-07T18:59:00.002Z

After 4 days of constant high winds which, btw, blew 10 plastic 2 litre milk containers up to 1/4mile along the lane this morning much to my husband's joy, it at last seems to have calmed down. I hope it stays calm so that we can go outside and have an enjoyable little witter about how on earth we're going to clear up the fallen pear tree, inundated as it is with the Rambling Rector.
Anyway my big news is that, wind notwithstanding, Spring is springing in the form not only of snowdrops everywhere but also several good sized patches of crocus colouring up the grass in the orchard, silver furry pussy willows in my wild bit of garden AND this evening I saw my first bat of the year!

If I could turn back ti-ime :O)

2011-02-07T17:12:00.002Z

I've been thinking about what I would change if I could go back in time and change just one thing about my life and I have an embarrassment of mistakes to choose from, such as marrying too young, having too few children, dull career choices, choices in men (chosen and unchosen) etc etc and that's without getting into the small stuff.
Most mistakes in life tho tend to bring their own compensations, as in smaller family = more disposable income for example. On the other hand, my first husband's reneging on our family planning pact to have more children when our eldest reached 10 was one of the factors leading to the breakdown of my first marriage, which in turn left me free to meet and marry my current husband. Choosing one thing to change isn't so easy when so many poor choices lead eventually to good outcomes.

I have tho settled on the one thing about my life which I would change if I could put the clock back and that would be to try harder. I've tended to be the sort of pig headed dimwit who says things like 'I know within a few goes whether I'll ever be able to succeed' and if I don't find something goes well fairly quickly then I throw the towel in; at school, in my relationships, at work, at everything I've learned or tried to learn over the years.
If I'd only tried harder to achieve the very best I could achieve then my life - and those who have had to put up with me all these years -would have been so much better.

What about you - if you could go back in time and change just one thing in your life what would you change?

Oh well, it's back to the Lottery for me then

2011-02-06T18:30:00.000Z

I've spent a couple of hours today looking for a china 'monkey band' which I know I have wrapped up safe somewhere. I didn't find it but I found a load of other stuff from our last house, several rooms of which were decorated in Victoriana. I found stuff I had totally forgotten about including Limoges china and a Poole Pottery plate and a lovely Wedgewood blue willow pattern dinner plate. There was also a 'Chokin' plate with 24ct decoration - chokin being etched pure copper gilded with silver and gold, which is a technique developed for the decoration of Samurai swords - I looked it up on ebay and I couldn't believe how little it's fetching considering the amount of work that goes into Chokin goods.

I thought I was going to make a bob or two and get rid of some stuff that I shall never want again, but unfortunately a bob or two looks to be the extent of it :O(

In the doldrums

2011-02-06T17:47:00.004Z

I am desolated. Our ancient pear tree has quite literally fallen victim to the horrendous winds we've been having for the past 3 days. It was, admittedly, on it's last legs but I was growing on a vigorous single sucker to eventually take it's parent's place. This tree was also the bearer not only of one end of 4 washing lines, but also of our most successful birdbox which has seen at least one hatching of either chaffinches, blue tits or sparrows for eight consecutive years. But more much more than all that it was the framework for a Rambling Rector which last year grew into it's full glory but which has now been completely uprooted by the fall of the tree.

Gutted doesn't really describe how unhappy I am about this arboricultural tragedy.