Gilbert the Good – an early walk

 

Gilbert the Good – an early walk

It’s getting hotter and hotter and hotter, so we have been going out in the middle of the night for our walks. It’s not really the middle of the night, but it’s so much earlier than we usually go out that it might as well be.

It’s nice, though, and we have been meeting *lots of other dogs* to chat to and play with. Barry has not been throwing the balls for us very much – we have one each – because he doesn’t want us to overheat. He tried not letting us have the balls at all, but we danced around him and asked so politely that he gave in.

He throws each of our balls once and we retrieve them and then carry them for the rest of the walk. This morning was glorious in the fresh forest air. The birds were singing their little hearts out and it felt good to be alive. We did get quite hot, even though it was really early, so we dived into one of the ponds. The water level is going down a little, which makes the mud more accessible, so we covered ourselves in it. It’s an excellent way to keep cool. Our thick coats carry gallons of water, and we’re still quite damp several hours later. The mud doesn’t show much on Roxy, as she’s chocolate-coloured, but I look more khaki than yellow. It doesn’t matter as I shall soon be my normal colour again. (Janice just muttered that the chair covers would be changing colour again.)

We don’t have breakfast before we go out early. It’s something to do with not exercising after eating. That sounded daft to me, but Janice explained that it didn’t mean we wouldn’t eat at all, just that we would wait until after our walk. She also said that we wouldn’t be able to eat immediately after our walk either. That was because of the dangers of developing gastric torsion, properly known as Gastric dilatation volvulus (GDV) 

It’s something that affects deep-chested dogs like Wolfhounds, Irish Setters, Dalmatians, Labradors and so on, though strangely Greyhounds and Whippets seem to be exempt. It can be fatal. Having had three dogs affected by it, all Dalmatians – luckily, they survived! - she and Barry are only too aware of the dangers and do everything to avoid it happening again. That’s what she said, though mostly I heard ‘no breakfast’ and ‘after’ and ‘later.’

It sounded quite reasonable – after all, she’s not cruel - and we were happy to have our collars put on and leave the house.

                                

     

Yesterday was the same rigmarole. We enjoyed our walk and were happy to reach home and flop out on the floor. As the morning wore on, however, I realised something had gone wrong with the routine. Roxy knew it, too. We gazed at the humans, trying to communicate with them, but they’re remarkably dense sometimes, and just grinned stupidly at us and told us what good dogs we were. Well, we know that! They tell us a dozen times a day.

I was busting a gut, putting all the pathos I could manage into my soulful brown eyes, and suddenly the penny dropped. Janice gasped and said, ‘They haven’t had their breakfast.’

There followed a discussion about whether that was true, and then that perhaps we’d had it and the humans had forgotten. ‘Had the cats been fed?’ they asked each other. Well, that was a silly question – the cats would never allow a mealtime to pass by without comment or complaint, but we dogs are polite and undemanding.

I widened my eyes further and pricked my ears as far as they would prick, and Roxy played her part, and finally, FINALLY, we were given our breakfast. We are very forgiving dogs, and didn’t give our humans the cold shoulder, whatever that means. In fact, I curled up next to Janice as usual. I’m sure she appreciates the extra heat I provide.

All was well this morning, and we didn’t have to wait hours and hours and hours to be fed. It’s a dog’s life, all right, but a pretty comfortable one in this house.

 

TTFN

Gilbert

* lots of other dogs* They often don’t meet any other dogs or people at all, so just two or three seems like ‘lots.’

Ginkgo biloba

 

Ginkgo biloba (Maidenhair tree)

Image courtesy Wikimedia Commons

I have a new mug which shows the pretty, fan-shaped leaves of the Ginkgo biloba tree.

The Ginkgo biloba is a living fossil. This means that there are “fossils recognisably related to modern ginkgo . . . from over 290 million years ago.”

Its closest living relatives are the cycads, which date back 280 million years. Cycads are slow-growing plants that often have a thickset wooden trunk crowned with rigid evergreen leaves. They are frequently mistaken for palms or tree ferns.

Ginkgo trees are not extinct in the wild but are rare and considered endangered. Cultivation is common in the south of China, with some ancient specimens at temples having been planted more than 1,500 years ago. They are extremely easy to propagate from seed, and can also produce aerial roots, from which new individuals develop. Apparently, this is called ‘self-cloning.’ Trees understood and practised cloning long before the scientists!

It is an attractive, shade-providing tree, very tolerant of pollution and often planted in European and north American cities. In autumn, the fan-shaped leaves turn a spectacular yellow. In addition, the tree is disease-resistant and unattractive to many insects. Unfortunately, the pollen, which is produced only by male trees, is extremely irritating to allergy sufferers.

Left unpruned, ginkgo trees can reach a height of 35 m (115 feet) but make excellent subjects for bonsai, some examples surviving for centuries.

Its resilience to damage is exemplified by the six trees which survived the 1945 atomic bomb in Hiroshima. Almost all other organisms in the immediate area died, but the ginkgo trees soon regenerated.

Many parts of the tree have been used in traditional Chinese medicine, from the 11^th century, but claims for the remedies’ efficacy remain unproven. It seems to be a catch-all for everything from indigestion to dementia!

 

                                    Close-up from my mug

 

Too darned hot!

It’s too darned hot for me, anyway, and we’re not within hailing of high summer. By that time, it may well be cold and wet and miserable.

 ‘Too Darn Hot’ was a song written by Cole Porter in 1948 for the musical ‘Kiss Me, Kate.’ I’ve never seen it.

It was inspired by the arguments, both on stage and off, between two married actors performing Shakespeare’s ‘The Taming of the Shrew’ in 1935.

I always thought the words were ‘too darned hot’ but discovered my error when I looked up the lyrics. I found the words quite surprising, and rather risqué for the period in which they were written.

The song has no bearing on the plot in film or on stage. In the theatre version, the song shows the company taking a break during the interval and complaining that it’s too hot. The complaints, apparently off-stage, are that it’s too hot for them to keep their assignations later that night.

According to the Kinsey Report
Ev'ry average man you know
Much prefer to play his favorite sport
When the temperature is low,
But when the thermometer goes 'way up
And the weather is sizzling hot,

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

 . . . it's too, too
Too darn hot,
It's too darn hot,
It's too, too, too, too darn hot.

I shall never think of ‘it’s too darn hot’ in quite the same way in future, but will continue to think, ‘it’s too darned hot.’

Many people in UK will be revelling in the soaring temperatures, which are set to reach their peak on Tuesday, at 34˚C (93.2˚F) in my region, the south of England.

Thereafter, they will drop until they are a more manageable 25˚C, gradually reducing to 22˚C, with the threat, or promise, of rain. We need rain, for the ground is very dry, and the risk of wildfires is correspondingly high.

I appreciate that what I consider high temperatures probably seems laughable to those in countries where heat is inescapable in the summer months, in tropical, and arid zones, and where water conservation is a major concern. I still think it’s too darned hot!

Catastrophe!

 

Catastrophe!

General Electric GE-645 mainframe configuration 

Image downloaded just to prove that it can (still) be done!

Image courtesy Wikimedia Commons

In the grand scheme of things, it should not really be classed as catastrophic, but it cannot be denied that one’s personal computer breaking down is more than a slight irritation.

 It is astonishing that something can progress from working perfectly, though occasionally a little clunkily, to throwing a major tantrum, toys flying out of the pram in every direction. It went into a complete sulk, refusing to cooperate, sitting in the corner, drumming its feet, and pouting in a most unattractive manner.

After several hours it was told that enough was enough, or, actually, too much, and its time was up. Parts of it could be regenerated in a sort of organ donation way, but its LED lights would shine no more, or, at least, not in the same environment.

Meantime, its job was taken over by a fairly elderly but reliable laptop. A considerable period elapsed as passwords were sought in order to introduce favourite websites to the new system. The tried and tested method of saving passwords is to record them immediately. Yes, yes, I know the advice is to never write them down anywhere at all on pain of death, or of being cast into the outer ether.

 Unless you have one password for every site ever visited, which is risky, different passwords must be used. Some require a minimum number of letters, while others insist on numbers, punctuation, capital letters, characters, your mother’s maiden name, and how long you’ve lived at your current address.

Therefore, in common with most of technologically challenged mankind, users write passwords in a dedicated notebook. There are many on the market, prosaically labelled, ‘Passwords’ or ‘Internet Password Logbook’ or more to the point and reflecting the aggravation that passwords can cause, ‘WTF is my Password?’ (For the tender-minded, WTF can stand for ‘What the Flip’ – not quite so punchy, but inoffensive!)

This concludes my excuse reason for unexplained absence. There should be a default setting for unexpected nonappearance. ‘There has been an unscheduled break in transmission. Normal service will be resumed as soon as possible.’

Small world

 

Small world

 

City Walls and north-east Bastion, Free School Lane, Rochester, Kent.

This photograph, from the 1920s, shows St Nicholas' School on the left. The grass in the foreground became the lower yard of Sir William Josephson's Mathematical School for Boys. It is now  a car park!

Image courtesy Medway Archives Centre

Today, my middle daughter is working, by chance,  with someone from my old home town. In the course of discovering how much her colleague and I had in common, in terms of local landmarks, I found myself looking back to my young life.

My first school was St Margaret’s in St Margaret’s Street, Rochester. I spent my infant years there, from five to seven. I learnt to read, but was rarely called out to read to the teacher, which I later realised was because I was a ‘good reader.’ The school no longer exists.

My junior school years were spent at St Nicholas’ School in Free School Lane, Rochester. This had been built in 1857 alongside the mediaeval City Walls, and north-east Bastion. A bastion is a defensive, angled extension built out from the main wall, enabling defenders to fire along the wall’s sides and cover blind spots.

Records state that it educated boys and girls, but there were no boys when I was there. Possibly, there were boys in the infant department, but not in the junior school. The school was demolished in 1968.

                                            Rochester Cathedral

Image courtesy Wikimedia Commons

 Another school built inside the city walls was King’s School, Rochester. It is a cathedral school, founded in 604 AD, and forms part of the foundation of Rochester Cathedral, which was constructed in the same year. It is claimed to be the second oldest continuously functioning school in the world. The oldest is The King’s School, Canterbury, which was founded in AD 597.

Rochester is an attractive small city on the banks of the River Medway. The Norman castle keep looks out across the river. The fortress was designed to control the Medway bridge and protect the road to London.

                                             Rochester Castle

Image courtesy Wikimedia Commons
The cathedral, castle, and walls form one of the most complete Norman landscapes in England.

                                                        Image source

Charles Dickens lived near Rochester for most his life and it features in much of his work, often under other names, like ‘Dingley Dell’ in The Pickwick Papers, and ‘Cloisterham’ in Edwin Drood. Other buildings appear, too, like The Bull Hotel, Guildhall, and Eastgate House, which was renamed Westgate House for The Pickwick Papers.

 

Eastgate House, Rochester

 Image courtesy Wikimedia Commons

Give a dog a bone

 

Give a dog a bone

Our dogs don’t have butcher’s bones, but they do have bone-shaped chews, and chews in the shape of toothbrushes, or hedgehogs, or alligators. At other times, they have a raw carrot each. These things all help to keep their teeth clean and their breath sweet.

‘Give a dog a bone’ is a line in a children’s nursery rhyme, ‘This old man.’ It is an old counting rhyme with a strong rhythm, with different versions dating from the 1870s. It has been suggested that it referred to itinerant Irish pedlars, and the unpleasant treatment they received in Victorian times, but this has never been verified.

This old man, he played one,
He played knick-knack on my thumb,
With a knick-knack, paddy-whack,
Give a dog a bone,
This old man came rolling home.

A knick-knack is a trinket or inexpensive trifle sold by a traveller. It is also the nuchal ligament at the back of the neck in some mammals that have a heavy head or have to run long distances. It helps to support the weight of the head. In sheep and cows, this ligament is called the paxwax, or paddywhack. The nuchal ligament is often dried for use as dog treats. Paddywhack is an old English dialect word and has no association with Irish people.

This old man, he played two,
He played knick-knack on my shoe,
With a knick-knack, paddy-whack,
Give a dog a bone,
This old man came rolling home.

Knick-knack may also have been an allusion to the sounds made by bones or spoons, which might have been played as an accompaniment to the song.

This old man, he played three,
He played knick-knack on my knee,
With a knick-knack, paddy-whack,
Give a dog a bone,
This old man came rolling home.

Although paddy-whack does not refer to an Irishman, Paddy has been an affectionate name for Irishmen since the late 18^th century. It is the diminutive of Patrick or Pádraig, which are traditional Irish names.

This old man, he played four,
He played knick-knack on my door,
With a knick-knack, paddy-whack,
Give a dog a bone,
This old man came rolling home.

Why was the dog given a bone? Was it literal? It’s possible it referred to providing some form of small meal to the pedlar.

This old man, he played five,
He played knick-knack on my hive,
With a knick-knack, paddy-whack,
Give a dog a bone,
This old man came rolling home.

Bee-keeping was widespread in ordinary homes from the 12^th to the 19^th centuries. The hives were skeps, baskets made from coiled straw, and coated with dung or clay to provide some defence against poor weather. Honey was cheaper than sugar, and beeswax was used to make candles.

This old man, he played six,
He played knick-knack on my sticks,
With a knick-knack, paddy-whack,
Give a dog a bone,
This old man came rolling home.

Small cut branches or ‘hedge sticks’ were collected and used as kindling. Bundles of sticks were called faggots.

This old man, he played seven,
He played knick-knack up to Heaven,
With a knick-knack, paddy-whack,
Give a dog a bone,
This old man came rolling home.

Many infants did not live to see their first birthday in 1870. One in six died from infectious diseases, like measles, diarrhoea, and scarlet fever. Other causes of death included milk which may have been mixed with water or chalk, overcrowding in insanitary conditions, low birth-weight, and pollution in the cities. So, death and ‘Heaven’ were ever-present in families’ thoughts.

This old man, he played eight,
He played knick-knack on my gate,
With a knick-knack, paddy-whack,
Give a dog a bone,
This old man came rolling home.

I always assumed that ‘rolling home’ referred to an inebriated man staggering home, but another suggestion is that it refers to a tinker’s horse-drawn caravan rolling along.

Rhymes nine and ten, ‘my spine,’ and ‘my hen,’ completed the song.

Torsk

 

Torsk

Atlantic cod (Gadus morhua) 

Image courtesy Wikimedia Commons

Torsk is the Scandinavian name for cod, but specifically Atlantic cod (Gadus morhua) which is also known commercially as codling.

All true torsk are cod but not all cod are torsk. Some in the cod (Gadidae) family are sometimes marketed as cod, but are more properly known as haddock, pollock, coley, whiting, hake, among others.

In Ireland and the UK, cusk (Brosme brosme) is called torsk, even though it is not.

Atlantic cod can live for twenty-five years, and are sexually mature at ages varying from two to eight years. It has been heavily overfished, to the point of being labelled vulnerable on the IUCN Red List. Some stocks are more endangered than others, for example, in the western Atlantic around Canada and New England.

 Eastern Atlantic cod stocks, around Iceland, Norway, and the Barents Sea (north of Norway and Russia and strictly part of the Arctic Ocean) are at healthy, sustainable levels.

North Sea and Celtic Sea cod stocks are still endangered. The situation in the North Sea is so dire that scientists have advised that there should be no cod fishing in these waters. In addition, other stocks of the Gadidae family are also causing concern. Similar restricted fishing measures are expected to be suggested in the Celtic Sea.

Fish, once a cheap and easily sourced food, has become increasingly expensive. Suggested alternatives for cheaper meals are chicken, beans, pulses, eggs, mushrooms, and tofu.

Chicken and eggs are produced at speed on an industrial scale, but that’s a topic for another time.