The targe

 

The targe

                                               Image source

The targe was a circular shield used in battle by Scottish Highlanders. It was the main means of defence in battle until it was banned after the Battle of Culloden in 1746.Frequently, the central boss held a removable steel spike, which proved to be a lethal weapon at close quarters.

Flora MacCleod knew all this because she had grown up knowing the history of her clan. The targe in the photograph had been in her family’s possession for generations and there was now no way of proving its provenance as a MacLeod shield, though everyone believed it to be so.

At the centre of the boss was a long rope of hair. As a child, Flora had been allowed to handle it occasionally and had always marvelled at its silky softness. She was a romantic girl and imagined it to have come from a well-loved horse, though it was too fine to have come from a Highland pony.

On her parents’ death, Flora inherited the targe. It had been wrapped in MacLeod tartan, stored in the attic, and looked dusty and neglected when she uncovered it. Reverentially she cleaned it, turning it over in her hands and admiring the workmanship that had gone into its creation. The deerskin on the back was worn but still intact. The leather on the face had been skilfully tooled and then strengthened and decorated with bras studs. She wondered if there had ever been a spike on the boss. Now that it belonged to her, she could investigate it thoroughly.

Flora twisted the screw that secured the cord to the brass centre plate. She wondered if there might be some information under the plate to tell her a little more about this lovely thing. She hoped for a maker’s mark or a receipt.

It was hard to release the cord from its fastening and Flora’s fingers were sore by the time she managed to free it. Her breath caught in her throat as she glimpsed a piece of paper tucked inside the boss. As she carefully teased it out, she wondered if she were the first person to see this since the targe had last been used in battle.

Excitedly, she unfolded the paper but what she read made her grow pale with horror. Feverishly, she wrapped the targe in the tartan and resolved to dispose of it. She considered selling it but supposed that, even with its history, few collectors would wish to buy a shield displaying an ornamental human scalp.

            Targe presented by the Duke of Perth to Charles Edward Stuart,                                     'Bonnie Prince Charlie'
                                                Image copurtesy Wikimedia Commons

The Blue Cross and PDSA

 

The Blue Cross and PDSA

While acknowledging that ownership of pets should only be undertaken by those who can afford to look after them, it must be understood that family circumstances can change. A pet becomes a loved and treasured member of the family, forming special relationships with different people, or perhaps with just one person.

 When a family falls on hard times, they will do their best to keep their pet. These days, there are food banks not only for people but for animals, too.

In 1897 a group of animal lovers formed ‘Our Dumb Friends League’ to care for working horses in London and encourage kindness to animals. It later became known, in 1958, as The Blue Cross.

In 1900 the society bought the first horse ambulance to carry injured horses to hospital. A year later, it lent sun hats to horses in hot weather to keep them cool. In 1906, the first Blue Cross hospital was opened in Victoria. It has never refused treatment to injured pets.

The Blue Cross Fund was instituted in 1912 to help animals during the Balkan War (1912-1913) It also helped animals in both World Wars (1914-1918, 1939-1945)The Blue Cross continues to care for sick and injured animals and to support their owners.

The People’s Dispensary for Sick Animals of the Poor, now known simply as the PDSA, was founded in 1917, during the First World War, by Maria Dickin. When visiting the poor people in the East End of London, she was appalled by the poverty she saw, and the sick and injured pets whose owners could not afford to feed them or pay for treatment for their ailments. She set up a clinic in a basement in Whitechapel to provide free care for dogs and cats in need. The demand was so great that she soon required larger premises and eventually developed a taskforce of mobile vans to travel round the country, dispensing treatment, and medicines.

Today, the PDSA is known as the vet charity for pets in need. It works to keep people and their pets together, believing that poverty should not be an obstacle to owning and loving a pet. It also takes a role in educating children and the wider public about the care and welfare of animals. It has forty-eight veterinary hospitals across the country and those in need can apply to receive free or low-cost treatment for their sick or injured pets.

Maria Dickin spent her life campaigning for the dignified and humane treatment of animals. In 1943, she instituted the Dickin Medal, the animal Victoria Cross for animals who served the country during war.

 

 

Crystal Palace

 

Crystal Palace

Susannah moved to Crystal Palace late last year and sent some photographs of Crystal Palace Park, usually referred to simply as Crystal Palace. They awoke some memories in her cousin, Pamela, who remembers walking past the dinosaurs weekly as she and her brother and sister travelled to Crystal Palace for training. They were part of the pre-Olympic swimming squad.

The dinosaurs in Crystal Park Palace were unveiled in 1854 and are now Grade I listed. They were the first full-scale reconstructions of these animals.

Image courtesy Wikimedia Commons

Grade 1 listed buildings head the list for protection and preservation and are considered to be of ‘exceptional interest’ for their historical, architectural, and national importance. The dinosaurs share this distinction with Buckingham Palace, the Cenotaph, and the Houses of Parliament, among many more. Had Crystal Palace itself not been destroyed by fire in 1936, it, too, would have become a listed building.

There are around thirty sculptures, designed by Benjamin Waterhouse Hawkins (1807-1894) with the guidance and expertise of the palaentologist Sir Richard Owen (1804-1892) Not all the sculptures are dinosaurs – there are amphibians, and mammals, too, like the long-extinct Irish Elk.

The models were constructed according to the knowledge at the time, and thus the Megalosaurus was depicted as a quadruped, when later scientific discoveries found that it was bipedal.

Image courtesy Wikimedia Commons

Naturally, wind and weather have affected the sculptures and repairs have been sympathetically conducted by skilled craftsmen. The Megalosaurus has had new teeth – twenty-two of them – a new nose and lower jaw, all carefully matched to the colour of the original.

Work on regenerating the park is due to begin this year, 2025.

Roxy visits the vet

 

Roxy visits the vet

 It looks as though Roxy has a strange beard - it's actually Jellicoe's tail!

Our dogs love going to see the vets because treats are involved. They are expert at adopting soft, pleading-eyed, irresistible expressions and their tactics are always successful.

On Monday, it was Roxy’s turn to visit the vets. She had done something to her right hind leg and was intermittently limping and whimpering. It didn’t affect her appetite, and she was not in great pain, but one of her toes was sitting at a strange angle. It transpired that she had split the nail, and it had to be removed.

When Barry returned without her, Gilbert was most disturbed, looking at the porch door and crying softly from time to time. He cheered up when he went out for a walk, and came home, panting, damp, and pleased with himself.

Roxy’s homecoming in the afternoon was greeted with enthusiastic sniffs and tail wags. The nail had been split down to the quick and had to be removed under general anaesthetic. It is a quite common occurrence. She has come home with antibiotics and painkillers and is now sporting a multi-coloured bandage and a disposable glove over the paw. She won’t be out walking for a while yet.

Roxy looks rather untidy as her winter coat is being shed.

A close-up reveals that the bandage is patterned with little pink pigs with curly tails.

It is only when you have animals that you realise how expensive medical procedures are, both for animals and humans. As an indication, the cost for this process was £523.00. Drugs are extra! 

There is no NHS for animals. It is wise, therefore, to have pet insurance to cushion the blow.

Chilly nights

 

Chilly nights

                        Top to bottom,  Jellicoe, Roxy and Herschel

Jellicoe and Herschel like to snuggle up with Roxy, particularly if the temperature is dropping at bedtime.

Roxy is like a large hot water bottle, except that she retains her heat. She jumps up onto the bed and quickly settles down next to me. Very soon she is joined by Jellicoe, who squeezes in between us. He carefully grooms her head, before relaxing into a limp, almost boneless, bundle of warmth.

Herschel lies at the other side of Roxy, purring until he lapses into loudly snoring sleep. Thus, they spend the chilly nights, wrapped in each other’s body warmth. At some point the cats will each depart the bed to prowl and yowl throughout the house, leaving Roxy to stretch and sleep on.

Gilbert, meanwhile, sleeps in the wardrobe, in his own little den.

Paramedic mice

 

Paramedic mice

    I read an article recently about a mouse performing a form of CPR on a fellow mouse struck down by illness or accident. Naturally, an experiment (or series of experiments) was conducted to observe such behaviour more closely.

Researchers drugged mice to incapacitate them and watched as the paramedic mice reacted. They pawed the victims, licked them, and pulled their tongues out of their mouths to clear their airways.

It is a phenomenon that has been observed in other mammal species. Something that human beings have to learn and be trained to use seems to come naturally to other animals.

Silk stockings?

 

Silk stockings?

Compression stockings do look rather like the silk stockings that were worn on special occasions by Regency ladies in Jane Austen’s time. That lady reportedly prized silk stockings above those made from the more usual cotton or wool, preferring to have fewer stockings, so that those she did own could be of superior quality. It is said that she even washed them herself, not trusting them to the possibly rougher handling of a professional washerwoman.

Today, silk stockings are available at a cost of between £5.99 and £34.00. Most women probably opt for nylons these days, but what do I know? I’m not ‘most women’ and have no right to speak for others.

 I try to kid myself that compression stockings are attractive as well as functional, but fail miserably. It really doesn’t matter, as no-one sees them but me. Well, my husband sees them when he hauls them off me before I have a shower.

Barry would be the first to admit that nursing is not his natural forte. He is very encouraging, but not the sort to mop a fevered brow, though I must admit that approach would drive me insane. He is sympathetic, but robust and practical, a ‘fresh air would do you a power of good’ sort of person. To be honest, that’s my attitude, too, as well as, ‘Have you drunk enough water today?’

If removing the stockings is taxing, putting them back on is a trial of an entirely different kind. We tried the plastic bag system, whereby the foot is encased in a carrier bag and the stocking is eased over the top. The idea is that then the bag can be pulled away from the toe end, which is open, and the rest of the garment can be pulled up to the knee. Carrier bags are awfully thin these days and tear very easily. We abandoned that method.

Talcum powder was tried. Everything smelt beautiful, but the stocking remained fairly immovable.

Finally, brute force was used. The stocking was rolled down to the extremity of the garment, stretched as widely as possible, then fed over the toes and eventually over the heel. Barry wondered why I was yelping, until I told him his knuckles were very hard. He understood when he saw the bruise on my little toe, bless him.

Meanwhile, I am making haste slowly. To anyone facing surgery I would advise making sure you have an excellent physiotherapist. My surgeon was superb, and enjoyed the challenge my back presented – it was much tougher than he expected, and he was almost rubbing his hands with glee as he told me that - but, in common with most surgeons, once his part was done, recovery was my problem.  The physiotherapists understand the reality and bemoan the fact that surgeons don’t see the long post-operative process.

My physio, Liz, is a sports physiotherapist, married to an ex-professional rugby player, and she’s wonderful – encouraging, with a pleasing sense of humour, masses of commonsense, and a wealth of experience. She and my surgeon know each other well, and she recommended him to me.

Liz was Barry’s physio, too. When he had his knees replaced eight years ago, it was our dentist who recommended the surgeon, and that was an excellent fit, too. The medical world is a small one, indeed.