jabblog

Erik Johansson

2012-02-16T18:43:00.000Z

Erik Johansson is a professional photographer from Sweden, now living in Germany. His photo manipulations are quite extraordinary. Some made me laugh, others I found quite disturbing.You can find out more about him at http://alltelleringet.com

Magpie #104 Maggots

2012-02-12T19:50:00.001Z

Photo Manipulations by Christophe Gilbert

copyright Christophe Gilbert

Look at this in negative and see squirming, desperate maggotsseeking to consume the fresh young flesh of a dead woman but yet she looksenraptured so this may not be so. Switchperspective and see spermatozoa, swimming to the ova, each hoping, if they hadsuch ability to feel and aspire, to fertilise and procreate. Look again, are thesenot the wrinkles of the brain surrounding the pearl that is the hypothalamus,the reason for our waking and walking and thinking and feeling?

When the image is enlarged some force beyond renders it dark,forbidding, the hair like Medusa’s locks, so many snakes to poison man. In deathshe brought forth Pegasus, the winged horse of poetic inspiration and Chrysaor,the giant with a golden sword, so is this image one of hope for mankind?

Disturbing, so white, so black, a puzzle obscene andbeautiful, a perfect tessellation of form and shape.

To read more interpretations please click here.

Not for arachnophobes!

2012-02-11T17:47:00.000Z

Image courtesy National Geographic

I've just come across this and thought it absolutely fascinating.

One of the astonishing side effects of the 2010 flooding in Pakistan was that in some areas millions of spiders climbed into the trees to escape the rising flood waters. Because the waters took so long to recede the trees became cocooned in spider webs, a phenomenon that had not been seen before in this area.

The scene is quite surreal and strangely beautiful.

The five-minute writer

2012-02-11T13:40:00.000Z

I ordered a book from Amazon yesterday and it arrived thismorning. (Actually, I ordered two but Iknew I would have to wait a few days for the second.)

Today’s delivery is called ‘Thefive-minute writer’ by Margret Geraghty and comprises examples and exercises tostimulate just five minutes writing a day. I’ve been dipping into it and itlooks promising, though being loquacious I cannot imagine restricting myself tofive minutes.

I should never suffer from writer’sblock again . . . yes, and pigs might fly!

Comment moderation

2012-02-10T16:43:00.003Z

I know lots of people dislike comment moderation and I agreeit can be something of a pain, slowing down the fleet of finger but I retain it;I don’t know of any other way to see that people have commented on my posts. I couldconsult the post list but that would involve remembering how many commentsthere were ‘last time’.

Anyway, that’s really beside the point. When I comment on myown posts I don’t have to verify my words so I don’t know what other peoplesee. I’ve noticed that many people have, ‘Please prove you’re not an idiot’when inviting commenters to verify.

What I really want to know is, Do I? and ifnot, Why Not?

Crow Lake

2012-02-08T20:04:00.000Z

Swans are graceful and elegant so it is appropriate that theyhave a ballet dedicated to them. Other birds, too, inspire poetry and music,crows among them.

Now, crows would be the first to admit that they do not havemusical voices –far-reaching, attention-seeking, interesting, yes, but notmusical. That is not to say that they do not appreciate the finer things inlife – a cordon bleu meal, a night at the opera, glorious architecture,stunning art and ballet. We did not realise this – perhaps you, too, areignorant of their sensitive nature.

The two crows who greet us each day in the forest (their names are Bill and Beatrice, by theway) noticed our scepticism about their aesthetic tastes and resolved topersuade us of their artistic leanings. We were treated to an impromptuperformance of their latest oeuvre. Unfortunately they were still working onthe choreography for their pas de deux so I can only show you stills from theirsolos. I think you will agree that their footwork is faultless.

The photos were taken in poor light at sunset.

petit jeté(small jump)

beginning of pirouette

petit saut (small jump)

en pointe

completion of chassé

échappé

For comparison I have downloaded a YouTube clip of Gillian Murphy, Principal Dancer of American Ballet Theatre, dancing Odile.

Free me!

2012-02-05T20:32:00.001Z

A grave at the Novodevichy Cemetery, Moscow

My first irreverent thought was ‘We gotta get out of thisplace, if it’s the last thing we ever do’ which I’m considering having playedat my funeral but then it was followed almost immediately by the sense ofbeseeching implicit in this monument.

Free me!

Free me, I beseech thee,

Free me from this world of woe,

Dead roses and cold rubies

Are not enough to hold me.

See my hands outstretched,

Fingers splayed and reaching

Out from the grave below -

Release me from this clay.

My spirit fled my body

Yet you strive to keep me here,

Your tears and words restrain me,

Please let me go.

Remember the person I was

And laugh at the memories we made –

Don’t enclose me in your sadness,

Please let me go.

You can read more Mags here, thanks to Tess Kincaid whoorganises this meme.

Winston's February 2012 blog

2012-02-05T19:32:00.000Z

Winston here . . . p’rrrrr . . . p’rrrrr

Mrs H told me I hadn’t blogged for AGES – what would I know, I’m a cat! I know night and day (you are the one, only you ‘neath the moon orunder the sun) Can you hear that –she’s singing!

Anyway, as I was saying before I was so rudely interrupted,I know night and day and breakfast and supper – oh, and watching birds - andthat’s all so I don’t know what AGES is.It might be something nice for all I know and maybe it’s a reward for blogging –there must be something in it for a tiger cat like me.

Well, last time Itold you all about the buppies. Do you know what, they’ve grown ever so big –well, bigger than me and that’s quite big. Mrs H is still banging on about melosing wait. I don’t want to lose wait, don’tcha know, ‘cos I’m very good atwaiting and what would I do if I didn’t wait?

Now, I’ve told youbefore, I’m a pashent sort of a chap and I can put up with buppies but only ONE AT A TIME and when Buster comes tostay he and Bertie make my life a livingell, jumping on me and chasing me roundthe house. It’s enough to drive me to drink, don’tcha know. I don’t really knowwhat that means, ackcherly, but I’ve heard the humans say it. It don’t makemuch sense to me, ‘cos I don’t need to be driven to drink, I can walk to it andit’s only water anyway, so I don’t know what all the fuss is about. I think itmeans that it’s all too much to put up with, so why don’t they just say that? Idon’t know, humans make life sound very complicated sometimes. I think it’s ‘costhey’ve got so many words. Us cats can say all we need with just miaous andpurrs and the humans know what we mean. I s’pose we’ve trained them well.

We had some excitement here don’tcha know. You know I likebird-watching. Well, there was a big bird chasing little birds and that wasgood, then just now there was lots of birds in the holly tree and they keptcoming back and pinching the berries. I thought that was naughty but the humanswere really pleased and took thousands of photos.

I poked my nose out of the door and Mrs H said I wouldn’tlike it out there ‘cos it’s really cold. Then Mr H decided to light the fire inthe conversatory and it filled the room with smoke so he opened the windows tolet the smoke out then he couldn’t find me and he was worried so he and Mrs Hsearched and searched. I knew they was looking for me and I didn’t quite hidebut I didn’t come when they called and when they was getting really worried I saunteredinto the sitting room and said ‘What’s the problem?’ don’tcha know and they wasever so relieved.

I know it was a bit naughty of me but my stars, do they thinkI want to go out in the cold dark? Intruder catdoes that. She waits by the pool room and makes all friendly with littlemiaous, but I’ve seen her stalking Bertie down the garden path so I don’t thinkshe’s as sweet as she makes out. I wouldn’t want any harm to come to Bertie –if anyone’s claws are going to be used they’ll be mine but I won’t ‘cos he’sjust a buppy still and I can keep him in line perfectly well by batting himwith my velvet paws.

It was Mr H’sbirthday on Friday and Bethan and Robert come to stay on Saturday. I like it when they come 'cos they really like me, don’tchaknow, and it’s always nice to be liked, isn’t it?

The world is covered in white stuff. The dogs seem to like it. Bertie even managed to walk on the pond - Mrs H said he was learning to ice-skate, silly human!

That’s all I’ve got for now. Be good!

TTFN

Where is the Giant's pencil case?

2012-02-03T18:10:00.002Z

The Giant was striding home from Giant School and stopped to drawa sketch of the changes in the forest. As he opened his knapsack he realised hehad lost his brand new pencil case.

His mother would scold him, he was sure. Inpanic he retraced his steps, desperate to find it, and dropped his freshlysharpened pencils on the ground.

Poor Giant! I hope he found it and remembered to pick up hispencils.

Keyhole bread

2012-02-03T17:52:00.000Z

Having trouble sticking to your New Year’s diet??

Can’tresist another piece oftoast?

Whynot try the new Keyhole bread?

All thesatisfaction of cutting another slice but with fewer calories.

Try it today – you won’t be disappointed!!

Bertie's complaint

2012-02-01T19:54:00.001Z

When we came home from our run yesterday we looked for ourbeds because we were tired but they had all been moved into the kitchen. Therewas talk of washing all the bedding. I don’t know why Mrs Boss does it, justwhen we’ve got it smelling the way we like it. Anyway, we decided we’d leavethe comfort of the sitting room with its warm fire and slum it in the kitchen.

It wasn’t too bad because the bedding was next to our freezer.(We have our own freezer for all ourfood. It makes sense. Boss and Mrs have theirs and we have ours.)

Frodocame with me to keep me company and we were soon fast asleep and dreaming.

ThenGus barked and woke me up – he frightened me.

So I cuddled up next to Frodo andI was able to relax again. Frodo looks as though he’s got devil eyes in thisphoto but he’s all right, really.

We were soon asleep once more.

I don’t know what happened next but I woke up to find Gus hadtaken my place and pushed me onto the floor – the floor without any bedding.That was a bit mean but I am the youngest, nearly eight months old, and Gus was here before me and hereally likes Frodo. It was quite brave of Gus, really, because that noisy floor-cleaning thing was nearby and he's frightened of that but Frodo was between it and him so I suppose that was all right.

ps: I must admit clean bedding does feel nice and it doesn’tsmell bad, either, so I don’t think I’ll complain again, not about that,anyway.

pps: Jenna was on a chair somewhere, naughty girl!

Redwings

2012-02-01T18:28:00.000Z

Yesterday I was pleased to see a Redwing (Turdus iliacus) eating berries in the holly tree. We didn’t seeany Redwings last winter and I had been wondering if we would see any this year.Soon I realised there were two birds in the tree and many photos were taken.

Today there have been regular excursions to the tree by several Redwings – I countedseven in and on it at one time and there may well have been more. Sometimes thissmall flock perches in the tree gorging berries.

Occasionally they fly offcarrying berries in their beaks as well as in their crops.

The Blackbirds and Wood pigeons have steered clear of theholly during the last couple of days giving the Redwings free range.

The Redwing is a widespread winter migrant in Britain andIreland. The greatest concentrations are seen in central and southern Englandand southern Ireland. Redwings arrive in September, leaving again in March orApril. Those in Scotland have probably flown from Iceland while those fromScandinavia winter in the south of England and as far south as North Africa andthe Mediterranean. Fewer than fifty pairs breed in UK – some sources say fewerthan twenty - and there is concern about the decline in numbers.

The Redwing is the smallest of the thrushes, just 21 cm (8½”)long. I couldn’t identify males, females, juveniles – they all looked much thesame to me. What I found really fascinating were the sequences that Barry shotof them eating, well, swallowing anyway. I shot some too, but his are much better.

This looks juicy

Carefully does it - don't drop it

I can do it - I know I can

Swallow

Gulp!

. . . and again from the front . . .

It looks a bit more of a beakful from this angle

Open wide!

Down the hatch

Much of today has been spent reporting – ‘they’re back’, ‘they’vegone’, ‘there are four, no, five, six, no, seven’ (voice rising to an excitedshriek at seven) We may not see them again but that’s part of the entertainmentof amateur bird-watching. I was expecting to see a Sparrowhawk dive into thetree but that didn’t happen. I was glad about that though of course poorSparrowhawk has to eat too.

Bird dogs?

2012-01-30T20:54:00.000Z

Bird dog is not a term commonly used in UK. Dogs used forhunting are generally known as gun dogs, a term which brings to (my) mind a vision of a retrieverholding a shot gun. A bird dog, particularly in the Southern USA, is a dog trainedto flush, hunt or retrieve game that has been shot.

However, we may have discovered a different type of bird dog.Strictly speaking, it shares few of the physical characteristics of canines butcan be ~~trained~~ encouraged to retrieve.

Master of Hounds?

We usually carry dog biscuits – as rewards or distractions orfor training – and the bird dogs have observed this. For many years we havenoticed them watching closely, particularly near water, and collecting treatsthat our own dogs have omitted to pick up.

In recent months a pair of bird dogshas been following us soon after we begin our walk. They have excellenteyesight and keep us in view from a safe distance. They are not domesticatedand are wary of humans and dogs but associate them – or, at least, us – with food.It may not be the food that you or I would choose to consume (although as a child I enjoyed the smell andtaste of dog biscuits) but the wild bird dogs are less discerning in theirhabits and will eat almost anything, alive, dead, fresh or decomposing. Theyare omnivores – one might even call them obligate omnivores – and they lookwell on their diet, bright-eyed and wearing glossy coats.

Today, the bird dogs, a mating pair – they mate for life – metus early in our walk and followed us up the hill, past three ponds to the bigpond at the top. They waited patiently, calling to each other, as we watched acouple of deer, well camouflaged in the sere grasses and leafless saplings ofwinter.

Can you see the deer in this photo? In fact, I've just realised there are two.

Any clearer now? There's one dead centre and

another smaller one bottom right.

In this photo there are three deer, left, right and centre.

Eventually they were rewarded. The dogs plunged into thewater, Jenna and Gus chasing the Aqua Kong and Frodo and Bertie retrievingbiscuits. When they emerged the bird dogs stood at the edge furthest from us,watching and biding their time. Then they swooped over the water, because ofcourse they’re birds, not dogs, and snatched the biscuits in their beaks, oneat a time.

Waiting, maybe admiring their reflections

This one has successfully grabbed a biscuit

Its mate has also succeeded

We dub them bird dogs because they follow us and ‘fetch’biscuits. We suspect that other people have observed their characteristics and,equally fascinated, have taken to throwing titbits for them to pick up. Theyfollowed us at a discreet distance all the way back, almost to the car,sometimes flying up to perch on branches, sometimes waddling along behind us onthe track, watching and hoping for more treats.

Following us back to the car

Striding out

Carrion crows are veryintelligent and my admiration for them grows. The following video clipsdemonstrate their determination and their ability to solve problems. The firstclip will not endear them, I’m afraid, but the second is impressive.

I'm linking to Our World Tuesday where you can find out more about other people's worlds.

Magpie Tales #102 Just three colours

2012-01-30T12:41:00.000Z

Red Spot II Wallisy Kandinsky

The teacher told her class to use just three colours in theirpaintings. She was very pleased with their efforts until she reached Michael.His was a blaze of colour and she remonstrated with him.

He protested that he had chosen to work with red, yellow andblue. ‘You didn’t say we couldn’t mix them,’ he said and she sighed and agreedwith him. Next time she must make her instructions clearer.

A to Z April Challenge - part two

2012-01-30T11:36:00.000Z

Why do I always rush into things without planning them? My excuse is that I haven't the time to stop and think but then I spend a great deal more time ironing out the kinks and creases in my projects. 'Twas ever thus and hardly likely to change now.

Anyway, what I should have said in my previous post is that the A-Z Challenge is a blog hop and if I add the nifty code I think a list will appear . . . I think . . . sometimes I'm remarkably dense, you know.

Well, here goes. Actually, composing this post is quite trying as Blogger seems to be on a Go Slow and words do not appear until five more words have been added - and that's okay if you're a brilliant touch typist - not so good if your fingers are a bit hit and miss, like mine so that what you think you've written appears as a strante languste like tyhat!

A to Z April Challenge 2012

2012-01-30T11:16:00.002Z

I’ve just signed up to Arlee Bird's A to Z April Challenge. Guided by the letters of the alphabet the challenge is to write a post every day apart from Sundays in April. Some people choose a theme, others write randomly while still others limit themselves to fifty words a day.

It's a good way to exercise your writing muscle and to reach and read other blogs. Last year more than 1000 bloggers took part and there are 75 who have signed up today already.

Oh, and it's Lee's birthday today, so go and wish him a Happy Day:-)

I saw a mouse - where? Not on the stair . . .

2012-01-29T19:15:00.003Z

Mice - by Rose Fyleman

I think mice
are rather nice.
Their tails arelong,
Their faces small,
They haven't any
Chins at all.

Their ears are pink,
Their teeth arewhite.
They run around
The house at night.

They nibble things
They shouldn't touch
And no one seems
To like them much.

But I think mice
are nice.

I agree with Rose Fyleman that mice are nicethough I prefer them out of the house rather than in it.

Yesterday Barry was in the conservatoryphotographing birds and making short videos of them. As I watched the on-goingdisplay a movement caught the corner of my eye and there it was – a fieldmouse.

We were pleased to see it because rats kill mice and its presence meansthat there are probably no rats in the vicinity (they’ve all travelled to London to visit Bethan and Robert)

It moved very quickly – speed is of theessence when you’re a tiny being, around 18 centimetres long from tip of noseto end of tail. The hose pipe gives some perspective. We think it was aYellow-necked mouse (Apodemusflavicollis) but cannot be absolutely sure since it didn’t stand on itshind legs and display its chest. It didn’t stay long for its photo shoot and wewere lucky to see it at all as it is largely nocturnal, the prey of owls andcats.

Meanwhile the birds carried on feeding,oblivious to the tiny mammal beneath them dining on the crumbs of fat cast offby their probing beaks.

Most of the birds wanted to display their netherregions, the newly repainted plumage glowing to attract a mate.

Some, like thisstarling, with his winter spots giving way to the glorious iridescence of springfinery . . .

. . . appeared to spot the little mouse and wonder what it was up to.

The female blackbird feasted on holly berrieswhile her would-be mate gorged pyracantha.

Coal tit watched warily from the Nectarine – often chasedaway by blue tits, his chance would come.

Long-tailed tits swooped and dipped theirway to the feeders . . .

. . . and a great spotted woodpecker, fresh from the beauty salon,displayed her scarlet underside but forbore to show her face.

Filling in the tax form

2012-01-19T17:49:00.004Z

It’s quicker and easier to complete tasks online, isn’t it? Ican shop, renew car tax, shift money around (mostly robbing Peter to pay Paul) readreviews, carry out research, keep in touch, make appointments – the list isalmost endless.

In addition, it’s simpler. Yes? Not always.

Barry had to fill in a Self Assessment income tax return. He loggedin to the site and began to answer the questions. When he came to the sectionabout pension providers he duly typed in the information whereupon the processcame to a halt. ‘Contact us’ or ‘Help’, however it was named, provided atelephone number and he phoned it to join a long, looonnnnnggg queue – I believeit took around half an hour to travel from the bottom of the line to the top.

Thatwas all right though because he was able to listen to soothing music, interspersedwith messages reminding him, ‘You are in a queue.’ When he eventually reached ahuman and explained the problem, that he had put in the required data and thenbeen ‘frozen’ he was told they knew about the glitch. The information had to beentered with no spaces between the words and if he cared to repeat the exerciseall would be well.

Unfortunately, he had been logged out because he had been ‘inactive’for a long period. When he logged on again he found that all the data had beenwiped and he had to start again. I don’t know how many help desks there are at HMRevenue and Customs but much frustration and time would be saved if a note couldbe inserted on the site to the effect that data should be entered without spaces.No matter that it’s gobbledygook, the computer has been (badly) programmed toread it.

It’s also quite difficult to write without leaving spaces,just as it is to speak without taking breath. Computers are clever beasts butthey do take a lot of the blame for mistakes, oversights, errors, losses indata. At least that’s the case with those in public service. ‘It’s a newsystem,’ ‘the computer’s gone down,’ ‘we’re changing to a new computer system’are three of the excuses most frequently heard.

Don’t blame the computers – blame the outfits that accept thelowest bids for systems that then don’t work because the people who write theprogrammes have not been properly briefed.

ThisisanexampleofthegobbledygooktheHMRCcomputerhastoread.Asyoucanseeit’sdifficulttounderstandbutIsupposethat’sbecausethehumanbrainisnotasadvancedasacomputerbrain.

Servicing the car

2012-01-19T14:38:00.003Z

Barry took his car to be serviced this morning. When he bookedit in the Receptionist asked him if he would be leaving it at the garage. It’sdifficult to fathom how it might be serviced if he didn’t.

Someone has just phoned from the garage to tell Barry that theturbo seal (??) needs to be replaced. It must be done or expensive damage willensue. So what was expected to be a relatively inexpensive bill has nowdoubled.

What fun! Shanks's pony will only take us so far . . .

It may be just a plastic bottle to you . . .

2012-01-19T08:13:00.001Z

Next time you empty a plastic bottle consider what you mightdo with it. It could be used as a cheap way to water your plants, or as a wasp trapor a mole deterrent.

However, someone in Sitio Malagaya in the Phillippines hasfound a really useful

way to recyclethem.

The Thirteenth Blog of Augustus Lazarus Cooke - Gus

2012-01-18T13:51:00.000Z

Hello everyone!

Well, it’s a New Earagain and it’s cold at last after so much wet and warm. Frodo’s pleased ‘cosnow the ground is hard he doesn’t have to have his paws washed every time hecomes in from the garden. (I really like Frodo!) Jenna and Bertie and me don’t sink in the mud likehim. I think that’s ‘cos we’ve got webby paws.

Our Humans didn’t go outfor New Ear’s Eve – they stayed at home with us and watched the fireworks fromLondon on the television. They said they were wonderful and there will be morelater on. They said there will be fireworks for the Queen’s cold an jubilee andfor the Oh! lim picks. I don’t know what those are but lots of people aregetting excited about them.

I wondered if the earswere getting shorter - well, the Humans keep saying they don’t know where thetime goes. I don’t think it goes anywhere, not like water down the drain. Maybethe garden needs drains ‘cos the water there doesn’t go anywhere – it just sitson the top like dirty puddles.

Mrs H was saying theyneed to get a dog sitter. I don’t want one. I don’t want a big person sittingon me – I’m not a bean bag. Mostly Mr and Mrs H don’t go out without us and ifthey have to be away for a long time then Gillian comes. That’s good ‘cos thenTia and Foxy and Buster come, too, but one day this year everyone’s going outtogether for a long day and we can’t go with them. Winston’s all right – he’s acat and he’s got everything he needs indoors. Bertie knows how to use Winston’slitter tray but he’s a bit big for it now and me and Frodo are definitely too big, so you see we’llhave to have a dog sitter. It’s all Bethan’s fault – she’s getting mad – Ithink that’s what they said. Everyone’s happy about it apart from us dogs.Still, Tia and Foxy and Buster will probably come and stay with us that day. Ihope the Humans can find someone to look after seven dogs.

Bertie’s grown such alot. He’s much taller than Jenna now and he’s nearly as tall as me. I’m stillgrowing muscles but I look like a proper dog. Bertie’s a puppy, with longgangly legs and his snout is longer than ever mine was. He smiles with wrinklesall over his nose, specially when he’s done something he shouldn’t. We playtogether a lot but sometimes he’s too rough and I have to nip him. Then hesqueaks and goes to one of the Humans for a cuddle. Foxy never tells Buster offso he’s a bit surprised when he’s here and I scold him.

Bertie can jump on theHumans’ bed now. It gets a bit crowded on there ‘cos Winston likes to join usbut he doesn’t take up much room. The Humans don’t seem to mind so long as wedon’t start playing. Usually I get off after a while and find a dog bed tosleep in but Jenna and Winston stay all night and Bertie often does, too. Frodonever gets on the bed. He used to but he’s not allowed now ‘cos of his drugs.It’s true – no good comes of drugs.

Time for a snooze. Begood!

Hwyl fawr am nawr! (That’s Welsh for‘Goodbye for now!’)

pee ess:Bethan’s coming home tonight ‘cos they found a dead rat in their sittingroom this morning. They don’t know if it’s the one they saw in the kitchen oranother one. Robert’s gone to the States for a few days and she doesn’t want tofind another one while he’s away – or at all! I bet me and Jenna could see them off. Grrrr . . .

Book Blurb Friday #46 Alexis in the World

2012-01-15T18:36:00.000Z

Lisa asks contributors to write a book blurb inspired by anillustration. The challenge is to write an enticing blurb in 150 words or less thatwill encourage potential readers to buy the book.

Here is this week's illustration followed by my contribution.

Photo copyright Joseph Claro

Alexis inthe World

The Biggins children walk home bythe canal every day. One day they hear a voice calling to them from the water. Lookingdown they find a strange female creature beseeching them to help her onto dryland. Taken in by her laments they pull her from the canal whereupon she begsfood and shelter. Feeling sorry for her they take her to their house and hide herin the attic. They name her Alexis.

What follows is a series of increasinglybizarre misadventures that lead to problems in the entire neighbourhood as thechildren try to cope with Alexis’ inquisitive spirit. Will Alexis learn to conform or is shedestined always to be a troublesome outsider? Will she ever return to herwatery home?

(129words including title)

The Bee's Knees

2012-01-15T16:09:00.000Z

White-tailed bumble bee (Bombus lucorum) on veronica longifolia

‘They think they’re the bee’s knees’ is an expression used ratherdisparagingly to describe people who think they have achieved something thatsets them above others. Avid followers of fashion, otherwise known as fashionvictims, may consider themselves the bee’s knees because they are up to theminute, following the latest trends.

Honey bee (Apis mellifera) on ceanothus

Where did the expression originate? Do bees have knees? Theymust have feet because they have inbuilt crampons. If they have knees do theyhave ankles as well?

Bombus lucorum on nasturtium

Brewer’s Dictionary of Phrase & Fable informs me that itis ‘said of something or someone outstanding.’It is believed that a US columnist, T.A. (Tad) Dorgan first coined the phrase inthe early 1920s. It may refer to ‘thepollen containers on a bee’s legs(the process of removing the pollen involves much bending of the bee’s kneesand is performed with great precision), or maybe it is simply surreal (as withsuch contemporary synonyms as ‘ant’s pants’ and ‘cat’s pyjamas.’

Bombus lucorum on pyracantha

With my anthropomorphic turn of mind I can imagine boy beeseyeing up girl bees and judging them by the relative merits of their limbs.

Boy bee 1: ‘Nice turn of ankle, but her pollen baskets are abit thin.’

Boy bee 2: ‘She’s got nice knees. Nice eyes, too.’

Boy bee 1: ‘Slender waist – almost a wasp waist.’

Boy bee 2: ‘I couldn’t fancy a wasp, though. They’re quick toanger and then you really feel the sting.’

Boy bee 1: ‘What do you think of her antennae?’

Boy bee 2: ‘Not bad. I’ve seen better on a moth.’

Boy bee 1: ‘Given the choice, which would you go for – bumble beeor honey bee?’

Boy bee 2: ‘Bumble bee every time. I like a bit of substance.’

Boy bee 1: ‘Honey bee for me. Hard-working, nice smooth skin –you’d never go hungry with a honey bee.'

Apis mellifera on ceanothus

Boy bee 2: 'Look at the knees on that!'

Triskaidekaphobia and Paraskavedekatriaphobia or Friggatriskaidekaphobia

2012-01-13T15:04:00.003Z

Is fear of the number 13 moretroubling than fear of Friday 13^th? After all there is a 13 in everymonth.

In any year there will be atleast one Friday 13^th but never more than three. If the month startson a Sunday the thirteenth day will be a Friday. This year’s Friday 13ths fallin January, April and July.

However, there is littleevidence that Friday 13^th was considered unlucky before the 19^thcentury. The superstition seems to be a combination of two older ones, namelyFriday is an unlucky day and 13 is an unlucky number. Friday was the day forexecutions in ancient Rome. Christ was crucified on a Friday. In Britainhangings were carried out on Fridays.

On Friday 13^thOctober, 1066, William of Normandy demanded that King Harold II relinquish histhrone. Harold refused and the Battle ofHastings took place the next day, Harold’s troops falling to William theConqueror’s army. Life for the Anglo-Saxons was never the same again!

In recent times, stockmarket crashes have occurred on Fridays, spawning the phrase ‘Black Friday.’

The ancient Egyptiansbelieved that people passed through twelve stages of life on earth and thethirteenth stage was the happy afterlife. When this belief was adopted by othercultures the association with happiness after death was lost and thirteen relatedsimply to bad luck or death.

Witches’ covens are thoughtto have thirteen members and thirteen guests at a table presages disaster. Inan Old Norse myth the god Odin invited eleven of the gods to a banquet. He didnot invite the mischievous Loki to the feast but he heard about it and attendedanyway. Loki caused an argument which resulted in the death of one of the gods.

Jesus sat down to the LastSupper with his twelve disciples. Judas Iscariot was one of the party ofthirteen. He betrayed his master and killed himself.

Some hosts will seat a teddybear or doll at a table where only thirteen people will gather. Towns oftenomit thirteen when numbering their streets, as do some hotels and airlines. Manyhigh-rise blocks do not have a thirteenth floor. Italy’s national lottery doesn’thave a number thirteen.

So perhaps Friggatriskaidekaphobiais greater – it seems that the combination of an unlucky day with an unluckynumber is just too terrifying to ignore.

However, in Spanish-speakingcountries and in Greece it is Tuesday 13^th that is consideredunlucky.

Chewing gum art

2012-01-12T17:33:00.004Z

Now this is something I never expected to see. I like it whenpeople find opportunities to develop a skill in unusual ways and places.

The Literary Cat

2012-01-12T16:44:00.000Z

Hurry up and turn the page - I've finished!

Winston enjoys reading in bed. The first photo shows what a quick reader he is.

He was readingMargaret Atwood’s ‘Good Bones.’

He and I enjoyed this book. We agreed that thiscollection of thoughts and observations perfectly displayed her talents and thebreadth of her knowledge and understanding.

From ‘The Little Red Hen Tells All’through ‘Stump Hunting’ to ‘My Life as a Bat’ and ‘Dance of the Lepers’, the humour and intelligenceshine through each of these small tales.

ABC Wednesday Z is for . . .

2012-01-11T12:56:00.005Z

Zéphirine Drouhin

This beautiful old Bourbon rose is a constant reminder of my parents. Itwas one of their favourite roses and they gave Barry and me our first plant.

It is a good rose for beginners as it is easy to grow, isvirtually thornless and has a sweet, mouth-watering fragrance. It will alsogrow in poor soils. It likes to climb but is not rampant, not growing muchbeyond 10’. Since its introduction in 1868 it has become a firm favourite both with‘proper’ gardeners and those who dabble. It’s a rewarding rose and when it’s regularlydead-headed will flower continuously until November. It’s fully hardy so needsno special winter coddling. It is prone to mildew unless there is plenty of aircirculating around it and is also a favourite with aphids – what isn’t?

The last photo could be called ‘The A-Z of Gardening’ – Aphidson Zéphirine Drouhin.

Zonal pelargonium (Pelargonium x hortorum)

The Free Dictionary gives this definition: zonal pelargonium - an upright geranium having scalloped leaves with a broadcolour zone inside the margin and white or pink or red flowers.

Pelargoniumsare often erroneously called geraniums. Geraniums are hardy, herbaceousperennials. Pelargoniums are evergreen perennials native to southern Africa andare tolerant of heat and drought. In temperate climates they are grown as tenderannuals, a favourite in summer gardens.

To see more Zs please click here.

Poetry Jam Laugh in the Face of Everything

2012-01-11T12:16:00.002Z

The photo shows a Polish farming couple in Connecticut, 1940

Photo credit:

Public Domain Photograph from the Farm Security Administration – Office of War Information Photograph Collection in the Library of Congress; Jack Delano, photographer.

The challenge from Poetry Jam is to respond to this photo of aPolish farmer and his wife in Connecticut in 1940. Times were hard but theyfound something to laugh about.

He wasn’tmuch to look at but

She’dloved him all her life,

He was acaring husband

And she adoting wife.

When peopleasked the secret

That kepttheir love alive

They smiledand said that hard work

And laughtermade it thrive.

So whenthe days seem darkest

And thingsare at their worst

Rememberthis old couple

And puteach other first.

Every little helps!

2012-01-10T17:08:00.001Z

I had my first Tesco delivery of 2012 today. Normally I have the items delivered in bagsthat I recycle.

The driver told me that Tesco had run out of carrier bags. That’snot a big problem for me but for the customer who had fourteen trays ofgroceries delivered and no time to unpack each tray individually it was aheadache as she had an appointment to keep. The driver was running behind timetoo so he left the trays with her. He was not a happy man.

An employee was despatched to another store six miles away butthat store was also facing a problem and couldn’t spare many bags. I have amental image of customers throughout Berkshire reaching the checkouts withoverflowing trolleys to discover that there are no bags for their groceries. Some,of course, will have taken their own bags with them. Others will have forgottenas I do, frequently.

Is it a desperate ploy by Tesco to force customers to carrytheir own bags - or was it an ‘oversight’ on someone’s behalf? Heads will roll,I fear, almost as many as other spherical objects that customers will beattempting to stuff into pockets.

The following clip is of Tesco in happier times, just before Christmas. Kerching!

For music-loving dogs and dog-loving musicians everywhere!

2012-01-10T15:41:00.000Z

Susannah just sent this clip to us. I love the way the dog pants and nods its head in time to the music!

Could I be a one-woman band?

2012-01-09T18:15:00.000Z

As I tossed and turned last night, sleepless and hot, I wondered whether I shouldget up and go downstairs or turn on the light and read for another hour or two.All the animals were asleep, including Barry, and I could identify each one bythe sounds they made.

Winston Ocicat, curled up next to me was wheeze-grunting,on my other side Barry was snoring and next to him Gus was breathing deeply andevenly in his bed on the floor. In her bed Jenna was whimpering as she followeddream deer and Bertie was rattling his claws on the chest of drawers as hestretched. Frodo was puffing out his cheeks as he slept, pfffffrrrrh, pfffffrrrrh.Somebody’s stomach was gurgling quite musically. How could I encourage sleep tocome to me?

Suddenly I recalled the video clip of KT Tunstall that I had watchedearlier in the day. I love her voice and the way she builds up sounds into a backingchorus for her singing. Why could I not do the same using the noises in mybedroom? Granted, it would not have the mesmeric power of KT’s music but themore I thought about it and tried to fit the different ‘notes’ in my bedroom intoa harmony the greater became my enthusiasm. I could do this! I even started toincorporate other sounds from the night-time house, the noises that are alwaysthere but only heard in the wee, small hours – the hum of the freezer, thecreaking of the stairs, the settling of the floors.

It was as I was listening for the wild scream of a lovelorn foxand a tawny owl’s soft, haunting call, and finally hoping for the guttural ‘kaark’of a visiting grey heron in the early light of dawn that I fell asleep. Itwouldn’t have been as good KT, though.

Washing my hands

2012-01-08T16:14:00.002Z

I used to joke that my hands were twenty years older than therest of me because I washed them so often. Now I think they’re more like fiftyyears older.

Apart from the usual handwashing rituals following ‘comfortbreaks’ or ‘bathroom visits’ (quaintexpressions, eh?) I’ve always washed my hands after handling animals,including small children. Working with young humans sharpens one’s observationalacuity and it’s hard to avoid noticing where their fingers are going and whatthey’re doing. You can’t see dirt, right? Well, obviously, sometimes you canbut you know what I mean.

I wash my hands before preparing food and again afterwards. I washmy hands after blowing my nose (I wishdoctors would!) and I’m doing a lot of that now since Barry kindly sharedhis cold with me. After I’ve loaded washing in the washing machine or filledthe dishwasher I wash my hands. Just put out the rubbish? Wash your hands! If Ihandle money (filthy lucre!) time to wash.Travelling on public transport or opening doors to public buildings – shops,for example – causes an outbreak of hand-washing. Naturally I can’t always accesssoap and water so I carry hand wipes for those occasions. Sometimes I avoid theproblem by using my elbows.

In the last couple of months I’ve developed a worrying habit. Sincewe do most of our shopping online we have a lot of deliveries. When I go to thedoor to accept the parcel, frequently I’m asked to ‘sign for it’. This makes methink I should be performing some elaborate ritual mimicry involving fingers inunusual combinations but actually involves grasping a pen attached to aclipboard or more usually a miniature screen display and scrawling anunintelligible signature. Then I have to wash my hands. I know it’s illogicalbut I can’t stop myself.

When I was teaching I used to encourage the children to wash theirhands at appropriate intervals. Then I would remind them to ‘wash the soap.’Some of them understood immediately the reason for that – maybe their mothers hadthe same rule. The rest looked incredulous but obeyed anyway. (Oh, the power!)

More tales from the Land of Clean can be found here and here

What foibles or compulsions do you have and are you willing toshare them?

Untitled Post?

2012-01-08T15:22:00.001Z

Untitled Post?

Looking through my list of posts I came across one for 4^thJanuary which said ‘untitled post’ so I opened it to have a look and add anappropriate title and labels. As I had apparently forgotten to title it I hadprobably forgotten labels, too.

To my surprise the post was empty, rather like my brain, butwhat really astonished me was that two people had commented on it! BragonDorn said, ‘Very interesting’ and SquirrelQueen wrote, ‘Your post reminds me of one Idid a few months ago. I do love your header photo.’

My goodness! Is telepathy alive and well? Are my innermostthoughts and intentions so readily broadcast and received that words are nolonger necessary? (I do hope not.)

Incidentally and completely irrelevantly, I really don’t caremuch for Blogger’s new ‘interface’ but I see there’s no alternative now . . .

How Not to Write a Novel

2012-01-08T14:59:00.000Z

‘How Not to Write a Novel’ by Sandra Newman and HowardMittelmark

I was given this book for Christmas and read it veryquickly, laughing long and loud at many of the things the authors wrote. Evenif the reader has no intention of attempting to write a novel it is so wittilywritten that it is a joy to read. Few books have the power to make me laughaloud at every page and want to read out bits. This book is one of the few.

I recognised some of the mistakes as being quite pertinent tomy own ‘writing’. I know I have a bad habit of airing my (limited) knowledge but after reading this . . . ‘The glories of the Calvin cycle, and thefurther intricacies of the Krebs cycle . . . were little comfort now that herhusband, Hugh, had bonked that secretary, in an act of sexual congress whoseorigins lay in a reproductive innovation evolved in algae 2-7 million yearsago!’ I shall be more circumspect infuture.

However, some research is necessary in order to avoid writinglike this: ‘The architect admired the waythe building was crafted; it was all stone with curvy arches like an oldchurch.’

How many ways can you say ‘said’?Like so many would-be authors I have fallen into the trap of trying to replace ‘said’with another verb. The following exchange will remain in my memory:

‘Funny?’she interrogated.

‘Hilarious!’he expostulated.

‘Surelynot?’ she doubted.

‘But howlittle you know!’ he exclaimed.

‘Saysyou!’ she objected.

‘That’s thelast I am willing to say,’ he concluded.

‘Somelistener you turned out to be!’ he snorted.

I could go on and quote more but would be in danger ofreproducing the entire book. That would be plagiarism, wouldn’t it?

SkyWatch Friday Fisheye sky

2012-01-05T19:22:00.001Z

Using a fisheye lens offers a different perspective.

To seemore skies around the world please click here

Having a conversation on an escalator

2012-01-05T19:14:00.001Z

Barry said, ‘Talking to N. is like having a conversation on anescalator.’

I said, ‘Do you mean it’suphill work?’

‘No, I just get the impression that N. thinks the conversationhas gone on long enough.’

Some people are constantly in transmit mode, unable orunwilling to receive. It is almost impossible to have a dialogue with suchpeople as they are only interested in their view of the world and theirexperiences in it. A monologue is acceptable if it is delivered wittily from astage or is a talk from an expert in a lecture hall; otherwise it killsconversation stone dead.

A monologue like the following is priceless.

My word, you do look queer (Bob Weston/Bert Lee) Monologue deliveredby Stanley Holloway

I’ve beenvery poorly but now I feel prime,

I’ve beenout today for the very first time.

I feltlike a lad as I walked down the road,

Then I metOld Jones and he said, ‘Well, I’m blowed!

My word,you do look queer!

My word, you do look queer!

Oh, dear!You look dreadful: you’ve had a near shave,

You looklike a man with one foot in the grave.’

I said, ‘Bosh!I’m better: it’s true I’ve been ill.’

He said, ‘I’mdelighted you’re better, but still,

I wish you’da thousand for me in your will.

My word,you do look queer!’

Thatdidn’t improve me, it quite put me back,

Still,I walked farther on, and I met Cousin Jack.

Helooked at me hard and he murmured, ‘Gee whiz!

It’slike him! It can’t be! It isn’t! It is!

Bygosh! Who’d have thought it? Well, well, I declare!

I’dnever have known you except for your hair.

My word,you do look queer!

Yourcheeks are all sunk and your colour’s all gone,

Your neck’svery scraggy, still, you’re getting on.

How oldare you now? About fifty, that’s true.

Your fatherdied that age, your mother did too.

Well, theblack clothes I wore then’ll come in for you.

My word,you do look queer!

That reallyupset me; I felt quite cast down,

But I triedto buck up, and then up came old Brown.

He staredat me hard, then he solemnly said,

‘You shouldn’tbe out, you should be home in bed.

I heardyou were bad, well, I heard you were gone.

You looklike a corpse with an overcoat on.

My word,you do look queer!

You’d besthave a brandy before you drop dead.’

So, paleas a sheet, I crawled in the ‘King’s Head,’

The barmaidsobbed, ‘Oh, you poor fellow,’ and then

She said, ‘Onthe slate you owe just one pound ten,

You’dbetter pay up, we shan’t see you again.

My word,you do look queer!

My kneesstarted knocking, I did feel so sad,

Then Brownsaid, ‘Don’t die in a pub, it looks bad.’

He said, ‘Comewith me, I’ll show you what to do,

Now I’vegot a friend who’ll be useful to you.’

He led meto Black’s Undertaking Depot,

And Black,with some crepe round his hat said, ‘Hello.

My word,you do look queer!

Now we’llfix you up for a trifling amount,

Now whatdo you say to a bit on account?’

I said, ‘I’mnot dying!’ He said, ‘Don’t say that!

My businessof late has been terribly flat,

But I’mtelling my wife she can have that new hat!

My word,you do look queer!

I crawledin the street and I murmured, ‘I’m done.’

Then upcame Old Jenkins and shouted, ‘Oh, son!’

My word,you do look well!

You’relooking fine and in the pink!’

I shouted,‘Am I? Come and have a drink!

You’ve putnew life in me, I’m sounder than a bell.

By gad! There’slife in the old dog yet.

My word, Ido feel well.’

2012-01-04T20:40:00.001Z

Stop and Shop at the Co-op Shop

2012-01-04T18:24:00.002Z

Reading Denise’s post here reminded me of the Gracie Fieldssong.

There's a shop called the co-op (cwop) on the high street
By gum it's a great idea
For out of what you spend
You get a dividend
Three times every year
When Ma takes two shillins for a share
She shouts feelin like a millionaire!
(She does)
Stop an shop at the cwop the Co-op shop
What the shop! It's the Cwop - the Co-op shop!
You can buy from a chop to a prop or a mop
Or a bottle of ginger pop at the Co-op shop!
As the pop shop is next to the Cwop shop
When you've done your popping in the pop shop
You hop out of the pop shop and hop into the Cwop shop
And promise you'll go shopping in the pop shop
They have tripe, nice and ripe at the Co-op shop
Pink pills, powder puffs pork pies
Paraffin and jam, carbolic soap and ham
?loads per pan pink pies? (not sure about this line)
And pigs heads all grinning in a row!
Wont you join in this chorus sweet and low
Sweet and low, Sweet and low!

From Wikipedia:

A Co-operative Wholesale Society, orCWS, is a form of Co-operativeFederation (that is, a Co-operative inwhich all the members are Co-operatives), in this case, the members are usually Consumers'Co-operatives. According to Co-operative economist Charles Gide, the aim of a Co-operative Wholesale Society isto arrange “bulk purchases, and, if possible, organise production.”In other words, a Co-operative Wholesale Society isa form of Federal Co-operative through which Consumers' Co-operatives cancollectively purchase goods at wholesale prices, and in some cases collectivelyown factories or farms.

The best historical examples ofthis are the (English) CWS and the Scottish CWS, which are the predecessors ofthe 21st century Co-operative Group. Indeed, in Britain,the terms Co-operative Wholesale Society or CWS are used to refer to this specificorganisation rather than the organisational form. However, the English CWS hasinspired many imitations around the world (including, for example, the New South Wales Co-operative Wholesale Society who have also described themselves asCo-operative Wholesale Societies or 'CWS'.

The Co-op is still going strong but has to contendwith other supermarket chains that offer ‘rewards’ to faithful customers.

Smooth . . .

2012-01-04T17:09:00.005Z

I’ve watched this a few times now and am very impressed by themovement of these dancers. Do you think they’re on roller skates?

Watch the second clip and you may find outJ

ABC Wednesday Y is for Yellow

2012-01-03T17:03:00.000Z

Yellow is such a cheerful colour in the garden particularly afterthe often dreary winter days when daffodils bloom in Spring . . .

. . . followed byKerria japonica which often flowers again in summer

Yellow Archangel (Lamiastrumgaleobdolon ) is a wildflowernative to central and southern England and common in Europe. It is a plant ofancient woodlands and old hedgerows, its yellow flowers in May and June bringingbrightness to damper, darker areas. It grows well on chalk or heavy clay butcan be invasive in the garden. Young leaves and shoots and flower tips can be eatenwhen cooked. In herbal medicine it has been used to treat sores and ulcers andto stop bleeding. It is rich in nectar and attractive to bees.

Yellow nasturtiums and marigolds also attract bees

Yellow pansy

Yellow courgette flower followed by green or yellow courgettes

Yellow honeysuckle

Yellow roses

Yellow honey bee (Apismellifera)

We saw very few of these in 2011. I hope there will be more in2012.

Yellow sunflower.

Until last summer I thought all sunflowers were yellow but there are some very pretty red ones.

Click here for more Wise Ys

Tales from the Academy - Spurs and Eyesight Tests

2012-01-02T17:53:00.000Z

The day an officer cadet is commissioned is a proud oneindeed. First there is Sovereign’s Parade in front of exalted guests and proudfriends and family. Stirring music is played as young men – and for severalyears now, young women – march in perfect order, saluting the Guest of Honour.

After the excitement of the day comes the Commissioning Ballwhen young officers don the mess kit of the regiment or corps into which theyhave been commissioned. I understand that they now keep their rank badgescovered until midnight when the 2^nd Lieutenant’s pips are revealedin all their pristine glory. This was not the case in the 1960s.

Those going into cavalry regiments or units associated with cavalryhad to put on spurs. These pushed into a spur trap or box and jingled pleasingly asthe wearer walked, a different note to each spur. Rather, they should have jingled.

One young officer, maybe dressing in haste or with his mind on other matters,had great difficulty walking in his spurs. Indeed, rather than ringing clearlyas others were, they were making an unpleasant scraping sound and causing thewearer to skid and slide. Onlookers might have been forgiven for thinking thatthe young man (now a respected magistratesomewhere in England) had taken up figure skating, such was his progressacross the polished floor. In fact he had inserted his spurs upside down. Thiscaused much hilarity.

This same young man was determined to join the ParachuteRegiment, following in his father’s footsteps, who had parachuted into Arnhemin WWII. Unfortunately, his eyesight was not good but, undeterred, he learntthe eyesight chart by heart and confidently rattled it off to the examiningdoctor.

Image courtesy Wikimedia Commons

The doctor was impressed and congratulated him but told himthat regrettably the chart had been changed and bore no relation to what he apparentlyhad just read. The best-laid schemes o’ mice and men gang aft a-gley!

Dear Diary . . .

2012-01-01T14:14:00.005Z

Every year since 2006 I have bought an RHS (RoyalHorticultural Society) Diary. I’m not a great diarist but I love theillustrations in the diaries – flower paintings of great delicacy. I also havean RHS Address book to replace the battered one I have had for many years.

Last year both Barry and I started writing daily journals. His is full ofreferences to world affairs, causes of conflict,esoteric measurements and abstruse comments. Mine is far more mundane – the weather,family affairs, the animals, comments on books I’ve read and those I’mattempting to write, what I prepared for supper . . . on that latter point it’srather worrying that, despite all the wonderful cookery books I have beengiven, my culinary ‘arts’ do not spread further than roast beef, spaghetticarbonara, curry, casserole and trout.

Bethan’s fiancé told me I was a good cook – I assured him thathe’s simply been lucky thus far to have been offered edible fare. On that note,by the end of the year they will be married or so we are assured. No date yet –but I’m sure they’ll let us know in good time. (Thinks: how long does it take to lose four stone, acquire grace andelegance and develop witty repartee for clever discourse with wedding guests?)

Also last year I started another collection – or rather, Barry initiatedone for me. Fountain pens! How many pens does one person need? That’s rather adifferent question to ‘How many pens does one person covet?’ I have somebeautiful pens now and naturally Barry insisted that I have some suitablejournals in which to record my deathless prose. We both started with Moleskinebut the ink bled through so now we have Rhodia. Even a shopping list is a workof art on good paper, not that I would defile my journals with anything somundane.

As with all things there is an interesting subcultureconcerning pens, nibs, inks, papers – some people devote their careers todetermining the very best but it’s all subjective in the end.

My diary entry today will undoubtedly make reference to thewalk I shall take with the dogs shortly. It is pouring with rain and already,at 2:00 pm, quite dark. Nonetheless, we shall enjoy our outing. Barry is in bednursing a cold so will miss the pleasure of sloshing through puddles and skiddingon mud. When we return I will endeavour to deter damp dogs from rushing up toshare the warmth of our bed with him. Maybe the sun will shine tomorrowJ

Bertie's First Christmas

2011-12-31T18:26:00.003Z

The first indication for Bertie that something different washappening was the sight of the Master and Mistress filling black bags. Hisinquisitive nose investigated as we attempted to make enough room in thebedrooms for guests to reach their beds. An indecent amount of washing anddusting, vacuuming and tidying went on as his familiar surroundings becameunfamiliar. Settee cushions were upended so that his friends and relationscould not climb on them. Winston, being a cat and therefore superior (andlighter) managed to balance on them and Bertie developed a trampoline act onthe webbing. Meanwhile, big strong Gus panted and worried over the changestaking place.

As the house was divested of dust, extraneous goods such asold music tapes, mountains of odd socks, old pillows and clothing that adultchildren had stored and forgotten, chewed slippers and remnants of the variouschildhoods of now grown offspring so it simultaneously filled with parcels andboxes and enough food to feed an army. The dog freezer (for frozen dog food, not dogs) was filled and the old freezer in thegarage was brought into service to accommodate the overflow. Five dogs and twopuppies consume a lot of food in a short period. Likewise the human freezer (for frozen human food, et cetera, as above)and the fridge were organised to within an inch of their lives to take in theextra provisions needed to sustain human life during the Christmas period when,Heaven forfend! the shops would be closed for an entire day. (Actually, I was horrified to discover thatthe local shop would be open until midday on Christmas Day.)

The most disturbing thing for Bertie was when his puppy penwas dismantled. Suddenly his dining room, rest room and secure zonedisappeared. This was the downstairs pen in which he had eaten and slept in safetyfrom his first day in our house. He shared it with Buster when he visited andnow it was gone. Oh, calamity!

Bertie (left) and Buster - 8 weeks old

Sharing the pen with Jenna . . .

. . . and with Frodo

In front of the pen with Gus

Finally the house was ready. Bethan and Robert arrived onFriday to be followed by Bertie’s brother and his family. Everyone broughtpiles of boxes and bags and more food and all the effort of the preceding days seemedto have been in vain.

Bertie (left) and Buster

Sometimes the boys were too tired to share a bed. Bertie slumbers.

Bertie and Buster played themselves to exhaustion.

OnChristmas Eve some of us went to Midnight Mass - a beautiful introduction to ChristmasDay when Gareth and his family arrived. The day passed in a blur of people,food, wine and gifts. Boxing Day was a repeat performance with slight changesin personnel. On Tuesday, everyone departed to their own homes and lifesuddenly seemed very quiet once more. We all enjoyed our time together andthough there will undoubtedly be gatherings during the coming year, none ofthem will be quite like Christmas, and none of them will bring similar dramaticchanges in Bertie’s little life.

Oh, and quite a lot of the items we have been storing havegone home with their respective ownersJ J

At some point we will erect Bertie’s pen again so that we canleave him safely but he’s quite a responsible young lad now and the need is notso pressing. New Year’s Eve will pass quietly – just the two of us, four dogsand Winston Ocicat.

Happy NewYear to you all and may 2012 be Healthy, Fulfilling, Peaceful and Prosperous.

Home Brew

2011-12-31T15:45:00.003Z

Home Brew – two words to strike ~~fear~~ chill into theheart of anyone with any ~~semblance of a~~ sense ~~of taste~~. A fewyears ago, well, more than thirty years ago, (because Bethan had not been born then and she’s just thirty) Barryembarked on home brewing.

As with all his enthusiasms he went headfirst into thebusiness and we were soon bursting at the seams with demijohns (carboys), rubber pipes and bungs (which looked strangely threatening),fermentation locks and bottles into which the ~~delicious~~ end product/swould be decanted. Visitors quickly learned to wave away a proffered pint ofwhichever vintage Barry had just completed. The beers were never started fromscratch but from kits that contained all the vital ingredients apart fromwater.

Eventually, ~~even~~ Barry admitted that the beer ~~wasn’tup to much~~ was horrible. Maybe wine would be better, he thought. Ourneighbours gave us a huge quantity of apples which produced a light golden winethat was quite acceptable but the best of all was the dandelion wine. Bear inmind that we had three willing ~~slaves~~ children at the time who relishedthe idea of picking dandelions even though there was no chance that they wouldbe invited to sample the wine.

The five of us picked for what seemed likehours. Our hands were yellow and we proved conclusively the untruth of the oldwives’ tale – our beds remained dry all night. As far as I can remember theresulting wine was delicious but the process was too labour-intensive and wasnever repeated.

Home brewing became a chore and finally dropped out of favourbut the empty demijohns hung around for a few years on a high shelf in thekitchen – Barry is averse to throwing things away in case they should be usefulin the future. Really, what purpose could a demijohn serve other than to storealcoholic beverages? Too big for a flower vase, too heavy to carry water forthirsty dogs – a dust collector, pure and simple.

One day, when Bethan was a tiny girl, one of the demijohnsimploded. While I was agonising about what couldhave happened – shards of glass flying through the air in the vicinity of smallhuman being - Barry was exclaiming about the chances of such a thing happening.

The remaining demijohns were consigned to the garageand eventually moved out. Much as I like the idea of country wines I thinkwe’ll leave the brewing of them to those who really know what they’re doing!

Sparrowhawk!

2011-12-30T18:54:00.003Z

I was reading Joshua’s post at ‘Vive le Nerd’ wherein hecommented on the Rough-legged Hawk he had seen in his garden. It reminded methat I had seen a Sparrowhawk (Accipiternisus) just before Christmas.

From the corner of my eye I saw a bird fly into the holly treeand watched to see if I could identify it when it emerged. I was excited to seeit was a Sparrowhawk. Pleasingly it flew to the top of the nearest arch andposed obligingly for me. I had to photograph it through the (grubby) patio door and managed to get fiveshots before it took flight.

I rarely see Sparrowhawks. I hear them more often or find the pitifulevidence of their depredations in the garden. It’s not their fault that theirdiet consists almost exclusively of birds.

Mainly they eat small birds – 120 differentspecies have been recorded. The smaller males catch birds from titmice up to birdsthe size of thrushes but the much larger females will prey on birds as large aswood pigeons and magpies. Some have been known to catch bats.

Very rarely theyeat insects.

This time the Sparrowhawk went hungry. I’m almost sure it wasa male.

Smile, please!

2011-12-30T14:06:00.000Z

Smiling is good for us, it makes us happy and those whoreceive our smiles, whether a closed-mouth lifting of the lips or the fullgnashers, feel better, too. Even better is to laugh – giggle, chuckle, snort, guffaw.

However, as the muscles move the skin in repeated patterns,faint lines appear. With age, and more smiling and laughing, the lines deepento creases and wrinkles. Lotions and potions, creams and unguents are appliedwith increasing desperation to hold back the march of time, to no avail.

The mostdesperate among us – and usually those with abundant funds – seek medical aidto turn back the clock. The surgeon’s knife is brandished expertly and bloodilyto return sagging skin to a semblance of unlined youth.

Those who find such intervention abhorrent may choose another solution– Botox – Botulinum Toxin. The syringe-wielding physician injects Botox toparalyse the muscles and iron out the despised furrows. The effects may lastfor as long as eight months or may need to be repeated sooner.

Conversely, with the loss of the creases comes a more significantcost. The paralysed muscles can no longer convey to the brain the sense ofhappiness that comes from smiling and the now line-less patient suffersdepression. That seems a rather extreme price to pay for vanity. How must itfeel to be unable to smile? I suppose it must be like a permanent face pack,when the mud has hardened to a mask.

Omnia Vanitas- All is Vanity

'All is Vanity' (1892) by Charles Allan Gilbert (1873-1929)

Image courtesy of Wikipedia

As a strictly medical treatment Botox can be usefully applied inthe treatment of movement disorders like those displayed in Parkinson’s Diseaseor cerebral palsy, for chronic migraine, for muscle spasms like Blepharospasm(excessive blinking)

For the rest, I’ll live with my wrinkles and creases – after all,they don’t bother me unless I look at myself and I do that less and less thesedays J

The Further Adventures of Frodo the Faller – Frodo Visits His Friends the Vets

2011-12-29T19:59:00.000Z

Frodo implores

Just over six months ago Frodo had a gastric torsion and underwent an operation to untwist his stomach. As a precaution, Phil-the-Vet put a stitch in to prevent it twisting should he have bloat again.

A few days before Christma Frodo turned his nose up at his supper. He’s a naturally greedy dog but the anti-epileptic drugs he has to take twice a day make him ravenous. Rapaciousness is a well-documented side effect of the medication, together with ataxia, which is variable.

I looked at him and ran my hands over his sides. He looked a little full but nothing too much. Then I felt the underside of his tummy and that seemed somewhat distended. He wanted to go out in the garden so I took a torch and went with him but he didn’t do anything, just mooched around a little then came back in. I was concerned that he hadn’t peed and although he didn’t appear to be in great discomfort he had retched a couple of times, which filled the air with an interesting odour.

Frodo with Bertie

With our experience of dogs with bloat – three, all Dalmatians – we decided that he should be checked over. I wanted to take him but Barry insisted I stay at home and look after the other dogs.

He and Frodo were gone for ages and my imagination was running riot by the time they came home. There was an accumulation of gas in his stomach from undigested fermenting food so Phil and Nadia had introduced a tube into his mouth and down to his stomach to relieve the pressure – that is, release the gas!! Barry enjoyed that bit;-) After that, he was given an injection – Frodo, not Barry – to relax his intestinal tract so that any remaining gas could be expelled.

We expected to spend a malodorous few hours but actually, it wasn’t bad at all. Frodo slept soundly all evening and I decided I’d sleep downstairs for the night with him but he went upstairs and so did I. He then proceeded to sleep deeply all night, not moving from his bed. Normally, he ambles about, rather like Goldilocks trying out different (dog) beds. If the bed he wishes to commandeer is occupied he looms over the occupant, not making a sound, until the bed is vacated, often with a snarl. The protest is purely for effect – Frodo is the senior dog and all the others know it.

On the other hand, I slept badly, one ear open for sounds of discomfort. I was concerned that Frodo had not had his full quota of drugs though it takes more than a missed dose to cause him to seize. He is fortunate in that respect. Some dogs are so sensitive that the doses must be administered at the same time every day. For them delays can trigger seizures. One owner I know gets up at 5:00 a.m. to give her dog his pills. His second dose is at 5:00 p.m.

Frodo went back to see Nadia-the-Vet the following morning and was pronounced fit and well. She remarked on how different he is when Barry takes him. With me he’s on guard the whole time, watching and grumbling quietly to protect me. With Barry he’s relaxed and completely unconcerned. It’s the same when we go out walking. He rarely strays from my side but if Barry takes the dogs out without me, Frodo strides ahead confidently, barely giving Barry a second glance - unless he has a pocketful of biscuits.

Back to normal . . .

Anyway,the boy had a special diet for a few days and we introduced hisnormal fare gradually, mixed with the blander food, as his digestive tract recovered.

I call him ‘the boy’ but he has just had his tenth birthday so he is really getting to be quite an old dog. He doesn’t know that, thoughJ

The Eleventh Family Birthday of the Year

2011-12-29T17:35:00.001Z

Bethan opening presents on her second birthday, helped by Sam

It is Bethan’s 30^th birthday today and she iscelebrating it in Bruges with her fiancé.

With Barry, Sam and Daisy

Bethan was a shy little girl and softly spoken. Today shestill has a quiet voice but she is confident and strong-minded. She needed todevelop a sense of self quite early as she had not only two parents, but three teenagesiblings who all wanted to guide and protect her.

Sailing

As she has grown older theage differences have disappeared and now she is the confidante of her two eldersisters and a good friend to her brother. Her nieces and nephews love her andshe knows just how to interact with them.

With Barry in Mumbles

As a girl she showed considerable musical ability and quickly learntto play the violin and to enjoy singing with her school choirs. She has anatural charm and ease with people of all ages and a keen sense of humour –like her father and her siblings she is an excellent mimic.

With Susannah and Marnie, Buckinghamshire

Bethan is open-minded and fair, listening attentively to thearguments of others before stating her own opinion. From Barry she hasinherited an analytical brain and like him she is left-handed – somehow the twoare linked, at least in my mind.

She was the grandchild with whom my parents spent most time –a gift for my father who was away so much when his own children were growing up.They looked after her while I worked part-time - who better to care for her? - andfrom them she learnt patience and trust.

Happy Birthday, dear Bethan, and Many Happy Returns of the Day! J

ABC Wednesday X X X

2011-12-29T14:21:00.002Z

The only Xs in my garden are the two little Xmastrees that I bought last Christmas and put outside after Epiphany. We alwaysobserve the tradition of Twelfth Night and put away all Christmas decorationson that day.

You can see the tiny cones on the little tree

Anyway, the trees survived and thrived but I couldonly bring one indoors because the other had been ‘leant on’ by a hangingbasket and displayed brown needles where there should have been green. It willrecover in time for Christmas 2012 I’m (almost)sure.

The one I brought indoors is decorated with buttons of glass and brass and the red ribbons and bells that adorn the necks of Lindt rabbits, reindeer and Santa Clauseseseses.

There are one or two small wooden ornaments, too.

The white and silver gauze trimmings and ‘pearls’ from Christmas crackers make tiny baubles and the whole is lit with battery-operated strings of small lights.

I took the photos so they’re not very good. The busyness ofChristmas has left me strangely ill-coordinated and eyes, brain and hands arenot working in synchronicity, it seems J

I hope you all had an enjoyable Christmas/holidayseason and are looking forward to New Year’s Eve. I wish you a Peaceful,Prosperous, Happy, Healthy and Fulfilling 2012J

To see more Xs please click here.

ABC Wednesday W is for . . .

2011-12-23T20:51:00.002Z

‘Warm Welcome’

Rosa ‘Warm Welcome’ is a semi-evergreen climbing rose thatflowers profusely in summer and autumn. The clusters of flowers are sweetly scented and avibrant orange-red,a welcome splash of brightness on our often less than sunny summer days.

White starling

Starlings (Sturnusvulgaris) are on the RSPB Red list. This means that they are globallythreatened. They are abundant in Berkshire and frequent our bird feeders withnoisy enthusiasm. A few years ago I spotted a pure white starling. Not quitebelieving my eyes I took some hasty photographs and though I watched and waitedfor several days I never saw it again.

Woodpecker – of the three UK woodpeckers, two can be seen in gardens. The Great Spotted Woodpecker (Dendrocopos major) is the commoner visitor to our garden. It is astriking bird and vies with the starlings for a place at the table. It eats insectsand fruit.

The Green Woodpecker (Picusviridis) is the largest of the woodpeckers that breed in Britain. It eats insectsand has a particular liking for ants. It is popularly called the Yaffle becauseof its laughing call. It is on the RSPB Amber list, meaning that its status iscausing concern.

The bird at the front is a juvenile. The white neck patches will develop later.

The Wood pigeon (Columbapalumbus) is Britain’s largest pigeon. It is the major agricultural pestand a favourite species for sport shooting. However, I am not a farmer and am alwayspleased to see these heavyweights in the garden. Their repetitive soft cooing callis a reassuring sound that all is well in the bird kingdom.

The Wren (Troglodytestroglodytes) is the UK’s commonest breeding bird. Like other small birds itsuffers a decline in numbers in cold weather. It is often to be seen creepingmouse-like round plant pots, seeking the insects and spiders that form itsdiet.

To seeother Ws please click here.

2011-12-19T18:24:00.002Z

Image copyright Lee Friedlander 1966

Troubled by facial hair? Don’t adopt that defensive stance –get HAIROFFtoday! Order now for delivery before Christmas and enjoy a new lease of life.

HAIROFF – SCARE OFF thoseunwanted whiskers and smile again.

HAIROFF –guaranteed SAFE hairremoval. All natural ingredients. Not tested on animals (much)

(Caution –may stain skin if used in conjunction with soap, shower gel, cosmetics. Do notconsume food for 48 hours after use. Test first on unrevealed skin. In somecases may increase hair production.Use at own risk. No liability accepted.)

With thanks to Tess Kincaid. Click here for more Magpies.

ABC Wednesday V is for . . .

2011-12-15T18:01:00.000Z

Verbena is also known as Vervain. Sweet-scented, it attracts butterflies and bees.

Veronica (Veronica longifolia)

Viola 'Jackanapes'

Violet (Viola odorata)

Violets and veronica grow like weeds in our garden and spread further each year. This delights me.

Click here for more Vs