Sittin' in the mornin' sun

An established bay tree is usually very hardy, and able to withstand cold weather without turning a ... I was going to say hair, but that's not right, and leaf doesn't really fit the bill ... anyhow, they can usually come through the winter unscathed. Last winter was particularly extreme, and our poor tree is rather the worse for wear.


The leaves should be a glossy dark green, not dry and desiccated. In places there are signs of life and regrowth



but despite waiting for months, others have clearly had it completely.


If we amputate all the dead bits I fear it's going to be very lopsided and unbalanced. The poor thing might have to come down completely.

Gentian, lupin and tall hollyhocks

As is traditional on a Bank holiday weekend it was time to get working on the garden. The monsoon conditions of yesterday had softened the soil to workable levels from the solidity of its previous dryness, and today (surprisingly for a BH) the weather was absolutely perfect. Ned dug out the final enormous lump of concrete, and a friend's jack hammer made short work of reducing them all to more manageable proportions. Several trips to the tip will be needed, but soon it'll all be gone!


I took a barrow up the road to a neighbour's smallholding and relieved his fields of some of the molehills, which are the most gorgeous riddled topsoil and have filled in the holes beautifully so that it no longer resembles a poor parody of the Somme. One more barrowload should see the major earthworks completed.



Next job is to install the new fence, and then I'll be able to put in some plants so for a few brief weeks it might look attractive.

The concrete and the clay beneath my feet

A long, long time ago when we bought Genie Towers, it was what would nowadays be called 'a project'. We did a fair amount of updating (some new wiring, new windows, redecorating, new kitchen, new bathroom, new carpets, etc - all of which are now past their best again - don't mention the bathroom) but pretty much just kept on top of the garden. This meant that as it became more and more 'established' it started to look a little neglected, if not downright shabby. So we've taken the bull by the horns and decided to replace the fence at the front, from a delapidated standard panel affair which was well past its best and was, frankly, falling apart, to (eventually) a picket fence. This means not only removing the panels which I think were being held up by the ivy, not the other way around



but also removing the rotten supporting posts. It was at this point that we realised whoever installed them intended them to be there for ever and ever. How much concrete does it usually take to support one 3" x 3" fence post? We didn't expect this much. I wonder how we can get rid of it, other than digging another hole and burying it ....



Elsewhere in the garden the lily of the valley is going feral. That I can live with because it smells just delicious in the sunshine.

Those were the days, my friend

I remember when all this:



was fields.



*thanks Mallers! Please tell me how you did that*

Lord help the mister who comes between me and my cyster

I did warn at least some of you ...

For some months I've been having a bit of trouble swallowing. My throat wasn't particularly sore, just a bit uncomfortable, but it felt as though there was something stuck, that coughing nor drinking would shift. One day, when peering annoyedly at my throat in the mirror I spotted something unusual that hadn't been there before, in the region of my left tonsil. Not being one to panic unnecessarily (when necessary I can panic with the best) I decided to take it to see the doctor for identification, and was 90% reassured when I was told that it was unusual but highly unlikely to be anything nasty, but that a specialist might like to take a look. So last week I went to the ENT department and was very pleased to be told that it was only a cyst, and it could either stay or be taken out; my decision. As I noticed it because it was annoying and it's unlikely to go away by itself I thought it best to get rid. So I was straightaway taken to book a suitable date and have my pre-op notes done. (I must say it all seems remarkably efficient. My initial appointment was for 11.30; we got there a bit early and I was examined, notes done and appointment booked all within an hour.) It was only when I got home I realised that my chosen date (on my day off because we're short-staffed at work) needed to be changed - I had to be at an important function the following day and didn't want to be the Guest From Hell! So that's all rearranged (for another day off) unless it decides to startle everyone and disappear of its own accord.

Anyway, here it is.

Your scarf it was apricot

My little apricot tree is blooming beautifully. That guarantees a few more hard frosts to kill off the chance of fruit.

I still haven't found what I'm looking for

Specially for Mally, the (very obscure) answer:



It seems even more appropriate now; an interloper tune for interloper plants. I wonder what they really are. Definitely a flowering climber; I'll wait to see what the parent plant does this summer before I consign them all to the compost heap.

Sweet sweet, the mem'ries you gave me

Back in the autumn when Harry was injured and we were having to manhandle him through to the sitting room every evening so that he didn't feel abandoned, we rolled up and stored the nice rug to protect it from his unconscious incontinence; the situation was quite stressful enough, thank you. The horrid carpet that it was hiding (and had been in situ when we moved in 20 years ago) didn't matter, so life became a miniscule iota easier. Then it was a case of 'out of sight, out of mind' and after Harry left us the rug stayed rolled up in Boy's room out of the way until last weekend when, after the loss of Beattie as well, we thought we really needed to try to get back to what passes for normality around here. So we carried the rug downstairs and laid it down in the sitting room again.

It was heartbreaking to see Piglet pressing his nose to it and inhaling deeply, wagging his tail in joy at the scents of his remembered siblings, then drooping disconsolately when he looked around and realised they were still missing.

Your subtleties, they strangle me

I hope these are wisteria seedlings. The seedpods came from a wisteria outside the library, but I'm beginning to wonder if there might not be another climber in amongst it, because they don't look as I'd expected. Time will tell!

PS: a virtual prize to the first person to identify the title.

You can't take a goldfish for walks

Some months ago the Google Streetview car passed me when I was walking the dogs, and I'd hoped for internet immortality. Unfortunately, because it would have been lovely to see Harry and Beattie on there too, the weren't taking pictures at the time, but they did capture Piglet in the sitting room window when they passed the house, and if this works you should be able to see him too ...

One is one and all alone

Yesterday evening Beattie started breathing really fast in her sleep; I thought she was having a dream but when she woke she was still panting hard. She tried to get off the sofa but her back left leg wouldn't support her at all, and she was getting very bewildered by it. We took it in turns to support her back end as she went round and round and round in clockwise circles - after 15 or 20 minutes of this we managed to settle her on her bed and left her to sleep, exhausted, wondering what would happen overnight.

This morning she was back on her feet again; even more doddery than usual and somehow not quite herself. She enjoyed her breakfast as usual, and came for her normal extraordinarily slow walk up the road - business almost as usual but in slo-mo. Every step needed a stop to sniff at where she was; we managed a couple of hundred yards in 20 minutes, and she only fell over once. She ate her lunchtime biscuit then needed help to get on the sofa for her afternoon nap - the back leg was playing up a bit again. But it was odd - the expression in her eyes was somehow different; there was almost an element of fear which there hasn't been before. We'd been told in the past "Better a week too early than a day too late" when it comes to deciding when a beloved pet should be helped to leave this mortal coil. Don't allow them to suffer. But it's so hard - you want to keep them for as long as you can, but you don't want to fall into the trap of keeping them alive for your sake, not theirs. 15 years is a long time, and you never want it to end.

I held myself together remarkably well at work, and at close of play Sarah came back and I cuddled my Beattie on my lap while she was given the final sleep, the way I wasn't able to cuddle Harry. She gave a few heavy breaths and slipped away from us. I'll never know whether I timed it right - whether it was too soon and she was still getting enough pleasure from life to make all the frustrations of her old age acceptable to her, but that's something I have to live with. There's no going back now.

For the first time in nearly 25 years we have only one dog. Sleep well, my sweet Beetle.

Whatever you want, the answer's NO

You can't tell me they'd brought only the exact amount of tarmac they needed to fill the hole they'd dug, and didn't have any left over to mend the pothole a mere foot away.



Pathetic, petty Jobsworths.

What a tale my thoughts could tell

On Sunday Beattie decided that she was going to go for a proper walk with Daddy and Mummy and Piglet. No being left behind for just a potter up and down the road; this was going to be like the Old Days, and when Beattie decides something there's no changing her mind.


Beattie has two speeds - slow and stop - and Piglet was very good and didn't get too bored walking at a geriatric pace but was pleased to eventually reach the fields where he could be let off the lead to stretch his legs. Beattie bumbled along enjoying the pleasant sunshine, only occasionally having to be pointed in the right direction having been diverted by an interesting smell. But it took a lot out of her, and on Sunday night she wasn't comfortable. After a night's sleep (plus blundering about knocking over furniture) she was a lot better and had a quiet day, but by the evening she was very unsettled again. She wouldn't sleep on the sofa as usual but was staggering between Ned and me, wanting attention, and tangling her legs and falling over when she tried to turn round. We decided that The Time had come - that she was getting distressed with life.

So we had a crap night, and when the surgery opened I phoned for the vet to call in and Do The Deed. Piglet can certainly read my mind. All morning he was fussing and whining, and going over to Beattie and sniffing her, then coming over to me and trying to climb into my arms (not helpful when doing the washing up) and generally behaving totally out of character. During the course of the morning Beattie decided she was feeling much better, and went and lay in the hall again waiting for a walk, which is where she was when the vet arrived. When the door was opened she rose majestically, wagged her tail briefly at the vet and had to be restrained from wandering outside. Piglet greeted Sarah happily and pushed in while we discussed her condition, because by this time my nerve was failing me. Then the odd thing happened; Sarah asked directly "What do you want to do?" whereupon Piglet put his hackles up and he barked very crossly at her. Beattie bumped into the vet's bag, pushed it out of her way and strolled off nonchalently into the kitchen while Piglet put himself determinedly between her and the vet.

I bottled it completely and Beattie has a stay of execution to see if she'd just overdone the exercise on Sunday and was going to settle back to what passes for normality; Sarah left. Piglet's back promptly went down and he went and settled down in his bed - no more fussing me for attention as he had been doing earlier. He must have known that his sister was under threat and he wasn't going to let it happen. One day soon it will have to happen, that's for sure - just not today.

Happy birthday, fweet fifteen

Fifteen years ago this puppy came into the world.



Not all the plans I had for her future were realised, but that's Life. There have been several times over the years where we thought we'd never see this day, but here we are.

Happy fifteenth birthday, Beattie!

When I'm calling yooooo oooo oooo ooooo

Piglet has changed since Harry's death. Although he's stopped searching for him in every room in the house, or looking round for him when we're out on our walks, he's become less independent and confident and much clingier, and likes us all to be together in the house. Anyone going out causes distress, and now whenever Ned leaves for work he gets summoned to return to the group:



This can go on for some time. Luckily our neighbours don't seem to be bothered.

Computer-wise I managed (with a bit of help) to remove the old defunct commenty system; shame, because I thought it was very good. Unfortunately it means that none of the comments on previous posts show, and it looks like I'm a real Billy-no-mates who's been talking to herself for the past however many years. I was able to copy them all over to the hard drive, and if I have a spare few years I might replace them all, but as it'd probably mean copying them all individually I can't see that happening in the near future.

I can see inside your head

For a long time now Beattie's normal daily routine, after breakfast and a visit to the garden, is to while away the morning sleeping on the sofa till lunchtime. All sorts of chaos can occur around her yet she slumbers peacefully through it. So yesterday, when I had to do a homecheck on prospective adopters for breed welfare, the plan was to leave her there and take Piglet as sole accompaniment. (When I first started doing this I used to take Clover and Beattie, then I changed to taking Harry and Beattie because he was bigger and potentially more of a shock to the people I was visiting - better that they change their minds before getting a dog than after - and then when Beattie got too frail for this Harry came on his own. This was to be Piglet's first go at home visiting; a more untypical dog would be hard to find, but needs must.)

So how did Beattie know what was going on? Just we were getting ready to leave she woke, descended majestically from the sofa and appeared in the hall, demanding to be taken too. So insistent was she that nobody was going anywhere without her that she stumped up to the front door and leaned her head against it. There's more going on in her head than we realised, and although she's incredibly wobbly she's not ready to give up on Life just yet.

Boys will be boys, bad boy, bad boy

When the neighbours came round the other evening for beer and cheese (when although we laid on tons of food we still managed to have more at the end than when we started, despite all eating and drinking ourselves silly), the conversation turned (as it does) to the subject of urination, and how much one would have to drink to write one's name in the snow. Christopher decided that it wasn't physically possible (he could possibly manage 'Christop' but definitely no more), but we reckoned we had an advantage there. One of our lovely neighbours, who didn't believe anyone would do it, is also very trusting, so when we saw the bank of snow she'd cleared from her drive, we couldn't resist ....



(No, it's really yellow food colouring from a washing-up liquid bottle, but I'm betting her shriek of horror when she sees it will carry for miles!)

Now I'm here

Now you see me ...



...now you don't!

And a partridge in a pear tree ...

Sometimes Ned's experimental cooking doesn't quite go according to plan.

Chocolate truffle or bird dropping? You decide.

On the first day of Christmas ...

When I was young (yes, yes, back when wheels were square and the world was in black and white) Advent calendars had festive pictures behind the doors, with a double-sized one for Christmas Eve. Nowadays the commercial ones all seem to contain chocolate (and not very nice chocolate at that) behind the doors. So it's interesting to see a new take on the theme ...