Hedgehogs

 

Hedgehogs

Gareth's hedgehog, left, was intended to be a money box. Susannah's, right, wasn't!

I don’t know whether clay modelling is still something that children do at school. I came across these dusty hedgehogs that my children made when they were about eight years old. I suspect they had the same class teacher, two years apart, and perhaps the study of hedgehogs or other small mammals was part of the curriculum. It was definitely before the advent of the Great Education Reform Bill of 1988, always called Gerbil, but officially labelled the Education Reform Act.

Gareth's hedgehog had a very prominent nose. Perhaps his teacher made much of the hedgehog's predation on insects, snails, frogs, mushrooms and other delicacies.

Susannah's hedgehog is altogether smoother and more streamlined.

Before the National Curriculum was established, teachers were freer to follow their own pursuits and interests, to go off at a tangent. This worked well for those who still felt that children should be ’well grounded’ in the basics, the well-known Three Rs, but were able to interest their classes in other things. I well remember one seven-year-old excitedly telling her mother, ‘Mrs Cooke made fog!’

Anyway, the little hedgehogs my son and daughter made were brought home proudly to be displayed. My son’s work of art was intended to be a money box, with a slot in the top. Whether that was his idea or the whole class was encouraged to make money boxes, I don’t know. When his younger sister made hers, it did not benefit from a slot.

We used to see hedgehogs in the garden from time to time, but I haven’t seen one for an exceptionally long time. Our Jack Russell, Daisy, used to find one occasionally and come in covered in fleas. That was almost forty years ago. Fortunately, hedgehog fleas don’t survive on anything other than hedgehogs.

I’ve just found out that there are seventeen species of hedgehogs, though there are none in Australia and none now living in the Americas. New Zealand hedgehogs are an introduced species, as they are in the Outer Hebridean islands of Benbecula and North Uist.

They are distantly related to the much smaller shrews. Although their prickly spines are usually brown, the hedgehogs of Alderney, in the Channel Islands, are blonde.

In Britain, the population of rural hedgehogs has declined rapidly since 2000.

Substitutions

 

Substitutions

My grocery order has just been delivered, and it had some substitutions, which were quite acceptable. The young man helpfully holding up the crate so that I could transfer the contents to a bag – I always regard it as a weight-training exercise, which gets easier as the items are removed – told me that most of the substitutions are usually quite reasonable. Sometimes, though, they beggar belief, and bear little or no relation to the requested item. For example, one customer had ordered bread, but it wasn’t available and it had been replaced with tomato ketchup. What was the thought sequence there? Bread for sandwiches for cheese for pickle for ketchup . . .

Questions then arise about the state of mind of the employee whose job it is to select items for a customer’s list. These staff members are variously called Online Pickers, Online Assistants, Retail Assistants, or Personal Shoppers.

Everyone has off-days or lapses in concentration and I can well imagine how strange or unusual substitutions can be made occasionally. Lemon bleach for lemons?

It’s raining . . .

 

It’s raining . . .

It’s raining, it’s pouring,
The old man is snoring;
He went to bed
And he banged his head.
Ane he couldn’t get up
In the morning.

(Rain, rain, go away,
Come again another day.)

This nursery rhyme is American in origin and was first published in 1912. One suggestion is that the first line is a metaphor for a liberal outpouring of alcohol.The ‘old man’ bumping his head is a consequence of inebriation. 

The second  couplet in brackets is something I've always added when singing with children. 

Robert Louis Stevenson’s poem, ‘Rain,’ is sweet and simple and was included in ‘A Child’s Garden of Verses,’ first published in 1885.

The rain is raining all around,
It falls on field and tree,
It rains on the umbrellas here,
And on the ships at sea.

Robert Louis Stevenson (1850-1894)

        `
                                               

Dusting

 

Dust if you must

Image courtesy Wikimedia Commons

Dust if you must, but wouldn’t it be better
To paint a picture, or write a letter,
Bake a cake, or plant a seed;
Ponder the difference between want and need? 

Dust if you must, but there’s not much time,
With rivers to swim, and mountains to climb;
Music to hear, and books to read:
Friends to cherish, and life to lead.

Dust if you must, but the world’s out there
With sun in your eyes, and the wind in your hair;
A flutter of snow, a shower of rain,
This day will not come around again.

Dust if you must, but bear in mind,

Old age will come and it’s not kind.

And when you go (and go you must)

You, yourself, will make more dust.

Rose Milligan (first published in September 1998 in ‘The Lady.’)

Rose Milligan was born in Yorkshire, but later moved to Lancaster, Lancashire, where she indulged her love of fell-walking. She died in 1994, leaving behind friends and a loving family, including great-great-grandchildren.

For those who are driven to dust – that is, the act of dusting, AI says:

Yes, regular dusting is essential for health and home maintenance. It removes allergens like dust mites, pet dander, and pollen that cause respiratory issues, while also preventing the buildup of harmful indoor chemical contaminants. Dusting improves indoor air quality, protects furniture from damage, and stops dust from attracting more dust. 

Hopeless

 

Hopeless

Flat-faced houses look out
On strangers passing by;
The pavement feet away,
The road beyond.

A bus trundles past,
Indifferent passengers
Gaze, glassy-eyed,
Noting nothing.

A to B,
B to C;
Endless journey,
Soulless.

Drugs, poverty,
Despair, fear;
No job, no hope,
No life.

No-one is above the law . . .

 

No-one is above the law . . .

 . . . and so, today, on his 66^th birthday, the former Duke of York has been arrested on suspicion of misconduct in public office.

It’s not a very pleasant birthday present.

A visit to the hospital

 

A visit to the hospital

Jellicoe and Herschel

When Jellicoe visited the vet recently for a regular check-up, it transpired that he, too, has a heart murmur, like his brother. Additionally, a biopsy of the cyst that had reappeared on his head indicated that it was malignant and he would have to go to an animal hospital for treatment.

This morning Barry took him to Aura, the animal hospital in Guildford. As we were not sure whether the consultation would lead to an immediate surgical procedure, Jellicoe was only allowed a token breakfast, a quarter of his usual ration, because, as a diabetic cat, he must have insulin injections regularly. He was not happy and kept miaouing and following me for more food.

The outcome was that he has to return tomorrow for an echocardiogram before an operation next week. This is to ensure that he is fit enough for surgery, just as happens with human surgical procedures.

Many pet insurers have raised their cover to £25,000, but ours tops out at £12,000. Veterinary medicine is now so sophisticated that £12,000 is soon swallowed up in tests.

We are looking at alternative providers. Roxy and the cats are probably too old to transfer, although Jellicoe is the only one with pre-conditions, but Gilbert is still a young lad.