Humdinger

 

Humdinger

Sometimes my fingers take on an independent life and type something quite other than I intended. For example, while looking up ‘humdinger’ I inadvertently typed, humdinbgerf. It was quite a pleasing word, I felt, and Bing agreed, saying, That’s quite a word you’ve invented there — humdinbgerf has a fun, bouncy rhythm to it. It feels like it could mean anything from a mythical creature to the sound your brain makes when it’s overloaded.

I typed again and this time created hjumdinger, to which Bing responded with, hjumdinger has a totally different vibe from your earlier invention — it feels sharper, almost like a word that announces itself.

It could easily be:

·         a quirky gadget (“Pass me the hjumdinger, the screws are tiny”)

·         a celebratory exclamation (“Well that’s a real hjumdinger of a win”)

·         or even a creature that lives in the corner of a fantasy tavern, judging everyone silently

In addition to mistyping, there’s the accidental striking of the CAPS KEY AND THE CHAOS THAT CREATES.

Occasionally, one of the cats, usually Jellicoe, walks across the keyboard, exercising his inner creativity. This becomes more pronounced the closer it gets to one of his mealtimes.

 

 

 

A ‘Wake Up!’ call

2026

Neil,from ‘Yorkshire Pudding,’ left a comment on a blog post of mine from seventeen years ago, 24^th February, 2009, to be precise. I struggled out of my semi-comatose state to visit his blog, where I enjoyed reading about the licentious goings-on at the Laughing Horse Awards and was astonished to discover that I had been unexpectedly honoured. Neil took the words right out of my keyboard when he quoted me saying, “never in my wildest dreams did I expect to receive such a prestigious accolade.”

So, thank you, Neil. I am indeed flattered. What you may not have realised is that I have been struggling to break free of an encroaching lassitude and wondering if I should continue to blog.

The last few years have been difficult, for several reasons, though now there is the proverbial light at the end of the tunnel. I am only too aware that many others have far worse matters to contend with. My life, in general, has been blessed, and I remain thankful for good health and a loving and supportive husband and family.

A few hours days of introspection made me realise that I still want the outlet blogging gives me and so I shall continue. Bad luck, all!

Well, it has been a humdinger of a start to a new year. Do people still say ‘humdinger?’  Apparently, it’s a late 19^th century American colloquialism. Bing (not Crosby) informs me that “Humdinger” is an Americanism from the late 1800s, most likely formed by blending two earlier slang words — hummer (something energetic or excellent) and dinger (something outstanding). The earliest known printed use is from 1883 in a Montana newspaper.”  So now I know, and will probably forget.

Anyway, 2026 promises to be interesting. The President of the United States continues to disengage from reality and wreck his country’s international relationships. There are many amusing memes and cartoons, but there is an underlying fear of what the future holds. Those who know are busy analysing and forecasting.

                                     This, from Debby at ‘Life’s Funny Like That,’ made me laugh so much, and gave me hope that common sense will prevail and prevent the world hurling itself into a maelstrom of disaster.

Belatedly, Happy New Year, everyone. May all your troubles be little ones and all your pleasures be prodigious.

 

 

Merry Christmas

 

Merry Christmas

and  a

Healthy

and Peaceful

2026

‘See’ you all after Christmas!

Foxes

 

Foxes

Red fox (Vulpes vulpes)
Image courtesy Wikimedia Commons

Those elegant, red-coated denizens of the dark, now often observed in daylight hours, are loved by many and abhorred by many more. I am of the admiring cohort, but I’m not a countrywoman or a farmer, and have no livestock to protect and worry about.

Whenever I see Reynard or his wife (what is her name? Renarda, Renardine, or Renarde!) trotting daintily through a hedge or leaping gracefully over a wall, my heart lifts, and, for an instant, I feel I am a part of Nature. These dog-like animals with their feline poise puncture our night-times with their eery screams and sharp barks, and chill our souls with their sobbing cries.

I’m sure foxes have a sense of humour. Why else would they steal single trainers from the doorsteps of houses and drop them outside someone else’s door? They also take other things that have been left out of doors, like feeding bowls, or toys from a toddler’s buggy. The truth is probably that, as scavengers, they are programmed to pick up anything they find, in case it is edible or might make suitable bedding in their den.

They may even leave a thank you in the form of scat. Believe that if you like, but the droppings are actually to mark their territory. If you have a problem with foxes stealing your running shoes, or wellingtons, or children’s toys, or walking sticks, there is a simple solution – don’t leave outside anything that you value.

Red  fox cubs

 Image courtesy Wikimedia Commons

The trifle

 

The trifle

Taking turns. Look at Roxy's tongue! It looks as though it has a life of its own.

It seems to be developing into a tradition, which is surprising to me, as gastronomic traditions usually pass me by. Actually, my carbonara used to go down well with my eldest grandchildren when they came to stay, but generally my offerings are not memorable.

Anyway. Trifle. It is certainly not a thing of small value and I’m not sure what is the actual attraction of it, but then I’ve never really liked trifle very much. I like the individual ingredients, but not the aggregation of them.

The latest offering was declared ‘the best ever.’ I just wish I could remember what changes I made. The base was Madeira cake, when I usually use sponge fingers, or crumbled digestive or ginger biscuits, so that was one difference.

Orange jelly with fresh raspberries came next. Once that had set, I added strawberry jelly and when it was firm enough, fresh blueberries.

Next came the custard – I remembered to make sure I had some in the cupboard this time, after the custardless one of a few months ago.

On top came the whipped cream, made from whippable oat milk. Barry took over the task of whipping and what didn’t end up on his jumper or the kitchen counter or the dogs’ heads gilded the custard. The final garnish was halved fresh strawberries.

It did look quite presentable and was surprisingly heavy as I nervously carried it into the dining room. I always half-expect to drop it. Maybe that’s not a bad thing, for then I concentrate on completing one task a time.

I shall make another trifle for Christmas Day, but of reduced proportions for a smaller number of people.

As ever, the dogs were in constant attendance, hoping for treats. In reward for their patience and forbearance they were allowed to lick the spoon. They would have preferred a dish each.

Herschel

 

                                                                                                                            Herschel

Herschel soaks up the warmth.

Does my life revolve around animals? Yes, four-legged and two-legged. On Monday last week, it was Herschel’s turn to spend a day with the vets. He arrived at 8:45 and had four teeth extracted. By half past three in the afternoon he was home again, and very pleased to be in his normal surroundings. He rubbed all round the dogs, purring loudly. We were told that he had been a very good boy and let the veterinary staff do all they had to do without fuss.

Two days later he was due to have a routine check to make sure everything was healing properly, but in the morning he was not very interested in his breakfast and was only persuaded to eat it with the addition of some chicken broth. He licked up the liquid very readily, but still left the meat, so his appointment was brought forward. The vet could find nothing wrong but felt he must be in pain, so prescribed some pain-killers for him. She gave him one before he came home and he was a very happy boy. We thought he might be a bit high on the drug as he was charging around the house, and we wondered if he would ever settle down to sleep that night.

The prescription was for a minute amount of liquid to be squirted into his throat, where it would be absorbed through the mucous membrane. Cats don’t take kindly to having things sprayed anywhere near them, let alone into their mouths. To add insult to the process, the medicine obviously tasted foul. Even worse was the fact that it had to be administered three times a day.

Herschel is a very forgiving cat. He struggles to get away when he senses what is about to happen. but never scratches or bites. A quick scruffing and the job is soon done, the pain is alleviated and peace is restored. He is now eating normally again. Long may it last!

Yesterday, when Charlie (9) and Jack (6) were with us for the day, both Herschel and Jellicoe received an extraordinary amount of attention. To Charlie’s delight, Herschel went to sleep on his lap and remained there for a long time. This served a double purpose. Sleep is good for healing and recovery, and Charlie was where we could see him and not able to slope off to nick more trifle!

Busy

 

Busy

We have had a busy couple of days. On Friday, there was much excited barking from Arthur as he heard the front door open. I thought it was Barry, coming back because he’d forgotten something – he’d just left to take the big dogs out.

The barking increased and eventually eldest daughter, Gillian, appeared, bearing a large box containing all sorts of comestibles. Very generous!

It was lovely to see her, and so unexpected. Much as I love seeing my grandchildren and great-grandchildren, it was very pleasant to sit and have a conversation without interruptions.

While she was here, my daughter-in-law ‘phoned and we had a chat. By that time, Barry was home again, so he and Gillian were chatting in the kitchen while he made coffee for them both.

On Saturday – today – youngest daughter, Bethan, and her family came to see us. Barry cooked a beautiful joint of beef ‘sous vide,’ and we had a lovely lunch, though I do think I overdid, or, rather, underdid the vegetables – they were more almost raw instead of the ‘al dente’ for which I was aiming.

The cats received an inordinate amount of attention, as usual, and the dogs weren’t overlooked, either. They all were given toys!

Tomorrow, middle daughter, Susannah, arrives to spend a few days with us. Arthur will turn himself inside out when he sees her and his little heart will overflow with joy.