The strangest thing

 

The strangest thing

'The Woman Who Wished She Could Play the Piano' from an advertisement for a correspondence school,'Picture-Play Magazine,' 1922.

Image courtesy Wikimedia Commons 

Today, for the first time in months, I wanted to play my piano. It was enjoyable. I used headphones so no-one else was subjected to the racket and terrible mistakes I made. Despite all that, I found it relaxing.

I went back into the sitting room – the piano is in the dining room – and returned to my computer to type something and had the oddest feeling. The keyboard suddenly seemed far too small. Surely it should be much wider, and where had all the black notes – the sharps and flats gone? My fingers were searching in vain. Eventually, brain and hands reconnected and I was able to type reasonably competently once more.

Thank goodness it wasn’t a pipe organ with two or three manuals, an array of stops, and a pedalboard for the feet, or I should have been completely at sea, not least because I’ve never learnt to play a pipe organ. 😟

I wonder if the same thing will happen next time. Perhaps I should allow for a period of readjustment before switching between keyboards in future. Maybe my brain is simply addled. 

 

 

Ten years ago

These photographs popped up on my Facebook page today.

Left to right: Roxy, Jenna, Gus, Lolly, Bertie. 

Roxy and Lolly are still with us. Lolly is eleven and lives in London. Roxy is ten.

Roxy, Bertie and Jenna. Roxy still loves to carry a ball. She used to follow Bertie everywhere. Now she follows Gilbert!

Happy days!

Ye gods!

 

Ye gods!

This expression may have its origin in classical times, at a period in history when many gods were worshipped. In the 17^th century it was a variation of the more usual and blasphemous, ‘Oh, my God.’

At some point, ‘and little fishes’ was added, and was first seen in print in 1830. It may have been a gentle reference to the story of the feeding of the five thousand, recorded in all four gospels. The words were added to soften the phrase and turn it into a ‘minced oath.’ A minced oath is one which has been adapted or cut up to be less offensive.

Minced oaths have been used since the 14^th century, from Wikipedia:‘when "gog" and "kokk", both euphemisms for God, were in use. Other early minced oaths include "Gis" or "Jis" for Jesus (1528)’

Minced oaths may involve substituting similar words, or adjusting a phrase. Thus, gosh substitutes for God, heck for hell, and darn for damn. Gee derives from Jesus, Blimey from God blind me and Crikey from Christ. Even Jiminy Cricket is less innocent than it sounds – look at the initial letters.

Two-Can Toucan

 

Two Can Toucan

One of my favourite books for young children is ‘Two Can Toucan’ by David McKee. Like Elmer the Elephant, it takes readers gently through the difficulties associated with differing from one’s peers. I was reminded of this book the other day when a toucan appeared on my screensaver.

Pictures appear randomly day by day and there’s a widget to click on to discover information about them. Yesterday’s was a koala bear, and today’s is Halnaker Windmill, an historic landmark in Chichester, England.

The particular toucan displayed was a keel-billed toucan (Ramphastos sulfuratus) from Costa Rica. It also glories in the names ‘rainbow-billed’ or ‘sulphur-breasted’ toucan and is the national bird of Belize, in Central America.

Toucans have always fascinated me with their bright colours and extraordinary beak. What a schnozzle! I had never given much thought to their diet, but had assumed it was mainly fruit and berries. Indeed, they spend most of their time picking fruit with their multi-coloured bill, which is about one third of the bird’s total length, but they also eat insects, eggs, small birds, lizards, and reptiles when they can be found.

Though the beak may look heavy and awkward, it is very light, and contains many blood vessels which allow the bird to regulate its temperature.

Toucans are sociable birds, flying short distances together in small flocks. In family groups, they seem to play, tossing fruit to each other, or play-fight, using their bills.

Keel-billed toucan (Ramphastos sulfuratus)

Image courtesy Wikimedia Commons

There are forty-three species of toucans, eight in the Ramphastos genus alone. Two Can Toucan remains my favourite, though. He might have been called Three Can Toucan, but you’ll have to read the book to find out why he wasn’t.

Have you?

 

Have you?

                                            Image courtesy Wikimedia Commons

What a sad, small life it has become when our time is taken up with booking appointments and attending them. Not really, because we have lots of interests and not enough time to pursue them all.

Howsomever, (which I had never realised was a ‘proper’ word, and have just discovered is archaic, a bit like me) a few weeks ago we were ‘invited’ to book appointments for annual jabs, or are they six-monthly now? Anyway, being obedient little citizens, we proceeded to thread our way through the booking system and nabbed a couple of spots in early October. Yes, the site informed us that all was in order, or alles in ordnung, as Barry says, proving he still remembers some German. Job done, sit back and relax!

At the end of last week, we received another invitation from the NHS to book appointments for annual jabs! Cue double-takes and murmurs of disbelief, as we didn’t wish to be doubly jabbed! On checking, we discovered that our appointments had not been registered or noted or whatever is supposed to happen to them. That’s not strictly true, for when the very pleasant and helpful lady Barry had contacted checked a little lot deeper, she discovered that mine had been recorded, but Barry’s hadn’t. Hey ho!

Barry and the lady had a most enjoyable conversation and gentle rant about the failings of the NHS administration and the inability of the left hand to even acknowledge the existence of the right hand.

We often experience a sense of déjà vu and I’m afraid it is rearing its head in my blog, for which, apologies.

So, have you, and if you haven’t, why haven’t you? My children (odd to call them that when they’re mature adults) pay for their jabs, though one son-in-law doesn’t pay because he’s asthmatic. I don’t think middle daughter will have the jabs – she responds very poorly to them, and they make her quite ill. It’s a toss-up – have the jab and feel lousy for a few days, or contract the illness and feel lousy for a few days.

There are currently two common strains of Covid, Nimbus and Stratus, the majority of reported cases being the latter. As ever, if you are suffering from any respiratory illness, be selfish and keep it to yourself.

Now, wasn’t that a cheerful read?

An hour on my back

 

An hour on my back

Intra-oral scanner

Image source

On Monday afternoon I spent an hour on my back. It wasn’t for relaxation, though not particularly uncomfortable. Bright lights, loud buzzing, murmuring voices, some music I would never have chosen, but what could I say to my dentist? I was in his hands, literally.

I wondered if one of the requirements for acceptance to a dentistry degree would be small hands. After all, dentists work in a very restricted area and there’s not a lot of room for manoeuvre. It’s difficult enough when the drill is being used, but when the scanner is introduced, life becomes interesting.

A lilting melody is played as the instrument traverses the gums, and it would not be surprising to see a well-drilled (!) troupe of tiny fairies dancing in front of one’s eyes. Of course, I would not be able to see them since I always shut my eyes when I’m at the dentist’s mercy. 

Then Steph, the dental nurse, clearly in training, had a turn with the scanner. That was an altogether different experience and Vishal, the dentist, was pleased with her. He didn’t ask if I would mind her practising on me, probably knowing I would agree, but should he have checked?

Meanwhile, I was wondering if dental patients ever dislocated their jaws. Mine were beginning to ache, having been wide open for what felt like hours. I also pondered, again, if and how many times dental professionals are bitten by their patients.

I had been thinking beforehand about how I was going to entertain myself for the ninety minutes I had been threatened with promised, but in the end I was there for just sixty minutes. I have to return in a couple of weeks to have the crown fitted, taking home with me again the mould that had been made in July.

There was a small piece of broken tooth in the gum, which has now been persuaded from its resting place. Today, my back aches, I have a headache, and my gum is a little sore, but if that is all that ever troubles me, I shall be forever grateful.

Foraging

 

Foraging

                Grey spotted Amanita (Amanita excelsa) September 2025

Many people enjoy foraging, and this time of year is full of delight for them. Blackberries, sloes, elderberries, hazel nuts, and sweet chestnuts are just some of the bounty that can be collected.

Wild mushrooms are a different proposition. We have seen many people poking around at ground level for delicious treats. One French man we met showed us the basket of chanterelles he had gathered and was going to freeze. Chanterelles are often associated with beech and birch trees, and can be found between May and November.

Unless a person has been brought up to identify fungi, it is wiser to avoid gathering and cooking them. It is far too easy to make a mistake which may turn out to be deadly.

Left to right: Panthercap (Amanita pantherina) Fly agaric (Amanita muscaria) and False deathcap (Amanita citrina) from 'Mushrooms' by Roger Phillips

The Amanita genus includes some of the world’s most toxic species, which can damage kidneys and liver irretrievably and result in death.

The grey spotted Amanita (Amanita excelsa) grows in mixed woodland and can be seen from July to October. It is edible and very common but must be thoroughly cooked before consumption. It has a strong mushroom smell when cooked.

It is not safe for amateur foragers to attempt gathering is because it is difficult to distinguish from the poisonous Panthercap (Amanita pantherina) Panthercap is not abundant and grows in most types of woodland, particularly beech, from July to November.

Confusingly, the edible Blusher (Amanita rubescens) looks similar to the Panthercap. It is common and widespread, and grows in mixed woodland from May to November. Although it is reputed to be very tasty, it must be thoroughly cooked to the destroy the poison (!) it contains, which is only destroyed by heat.

Fly agaric (Amanita muscaria) is the striking red ‘toadstool’ with white spots, often seen in fairy tale illustrations and paintings of the autumn countryside. It is both toxic and hallucinogenic, but not usually deadly, unless a great quantity is eaten (more than ten) It can be found from August to December in mixed woodlands, particularly favouring birch woods.

The common name of Fly agaric comes from the mediaeval practice of breaking off pieces and putting them in milk to kill flies. Reindeer and red squirrels eat them and suffer no ill effects, though maybe that’s why reindeer fly.

Fungi seem to be a recurring theme on my blog. I have written about them here and here and here and here. 

 

Delivery

 

Delivery

Image courtesy Wikimedia Commons 

We had a parcel delivery today. On the Reolink camera I saw the delivery man approach with the parcel and expected he would leave it at the door, so didn’t rush to answer when he rang the bell. He lingered, then tapped, then left, with the package under his arm. I decided I’d better go to the door.

By that time, he was back in his vehicle, but saw me and climbed out again. He told me he needed my date of birth. ‘You’re joking,’ I said, since, although everyone tells me I don’t look my age (thank goodness!) no-one could mistake me for an adolescent. He was serious, so I gave him the information, and he smiled and handed me the parcel.

It was light and addressed to Barry. When he arrived home with the dogs, he took one look and said, ‘Oh, that’ll be my axe.’

I had forgotten he was researching axes the day before. It’s a sign of extreme trust that this did not worry me. He needed to add a small hatchet to his array of sharp tools for chopping kindling.It’s a good thing I answered the door, or we would have been waiting for a redelivery.

‘Answering the door’ is a funny expression. It’s not as though the door poses questions or asks for explanations. It’s just there, providing a barrier between outside and inside, as well as a measure of insulation, and a means of easily identifying one house from another, so long as it bears a number or a name.

The screaming haka

 

The screaming haka

                                        Image courtesy Wikimedia Commons

As the Women’s Rugby World Cup approaches its climax, the men in my family settled to watch the semi-final between New Zealand and France at Twickenham. They are agreed that women’s rugby is faster-moving and played more as it used to be in the men’s game. It was a good match and the final, later on this Saturday afternoon, between the champions, England, and Canada, promises to be entertaining, too.

The major attraction for me was seeing and hearing the haka. Haka are ceremonial Māori dances performed in a variety of situations, from welcoming honoured visitors, to funerals, to a pre-match challenge or symbolic throwing down of the gauntlet. When men perform the haka before a rugby match, their voices resonate around the stadium, a powerful chant reverberating in the chests of the crowd. It is thrilling.

Women’s voices are shriller, more piercing, so that the overall effect is of shrieking rather than chanting. However, the Kiwis gave it their all.

Packs of people shouting and yelling occur in less friendly circumstances, demonstrating in the streets against perceived injustices. I have it on good authority that a mob of women screaming obscenities feels far more threatening than a crowd of men doing the same. The fairer sex is less than attractive when protecting their homes or communities. Men are intimidated by screeching harridans.

The rugby final was won by England, with a score of 33 to 13. It was a good match, played with concentration and intent until the very last minute. There was no aggression, and none of the fisticuffs sometimes seen in the men’s matches. It was the second largest crowd attendance of all time.

It was good to see the Canadian Prime Minister there, but where was the UK Prime Minister?

Keeping watch

 

Keeping watch

                                            Jellicoe and Gilbert

Gilbert often sits at the open patio door, gazing into the garden, sniffing the air, watching the birds. Note how his ears are pinned back, listening for any sounds of food preparation.

Jellicoe loves Gilbert and joins him at every opportunity. Together they are guarding the house and the humans against all comers.

Earlier, they were watching the big television screen, our window on the world, which acts like a moving panorama. It may show a canal journey, a drone view of Switzerland, Japanese rail travel, a myriad other things, or, as at present, nothing at all.

Onto the screen, courtesy of Steve Reed, came a jaunty young fox, to which Gilbert took great and noisy exception. He is not prone to barking, but something about a fox where it should not be really set his hackles up and raised his voice to full volume.

As he yelled at the television, so Roxy leapt from her bed and joined her voice to his. She had no idea why she was barking and was looking into the garden, hoping for a glimpse of whatever had upset her big friend. Herschel and Jellicoe ignored the hullabaloo, as cats are wont to do.

Eventually, with a mixture of admonishments and praise – ‘Stop it, that’s enough,’ and ‘Well done, good dogs,’ – peace was restored, and all the four legged animals resumed their slumbers.

In other news, we have succumbed to the chill and lit our first fire of the autumn. Herschel assumed his customary position, with his back to the warmth. The seasonal task of checking levels in the coal bunker will  recommence soon.

I half expect to see the silhouettes of Shadrach, Meshach and Abednego (Daniel, chapter 3) walking across the burning coals. 

Breakfast

 

Breakfast

                                        

I usually have breakfast sometime after noon. Today, I had an apple at one o’clock, which is quite early for me. The dessert apple harvest has been wonderful this year, but there are fewer to pick now. There are still bushels of crab apples on the trees, but I shan’t be making jelly this year. They will provide food for the birds, unless my granddaughters come to pick them.

The apple, though small, was crisp and sharp and very juicy. Delicious!

Air fryer blueberry muffins

I followed it with some blueberry muffins, freshly baked, though not by me. 

It is my daughter-in-law’s birthday today, and tomorrow it will be my elder great-grandson’s birthday. Both of them are spending their days at school, but the weekend approaches and I’m sure Fergus, at least, will be celebrating with some friends.

Slug

 

Slug

                                    Dusky slug (Arion subfuscus)
                                        Image courtesy Wikimedia Commons

Slug is an unappealing word, whether as a noun or a verb. It has associations of heaviness and slowness.

Garden slugs are not very attractive. As much as I tell myself they’re just snails without external shells, I cannot persuade myself of their intrinsic value. They must have some worth, surely, and yes! they are detritivores. Who wouldn’t want to claim that name for themselves? They are the refuse collectors of the natural world, as well as tasty morsels for some animals.

They generally come in quite muted shades, though yellow and bright orange are not uncommon. However, compared to sea slugs, they are very modestly dressed. They are not closely related to sea slugs, though both are molluscs.

There are more than three thousand known species of sea slugs or nudibranchs, many of them brightly coloured. Some of them take the stinging cells from prey such as jellyfish, reusing them for their own protection. Others take in the poisons from sea anemones and sponges, which are then exuded as defensive slime. They are not a threat to humans but could cause skin irritation if handled.

Some are so small as to be almost unnoticeable, only able to be studied under magnification, while the largest can measure about fifty centimetres. They can be found in all the oceans of the world, in shallow waters and the deeps.

Nudibranchs are common in UK rockpools, easily noticeable at low tide. They range in size from less than one or two centimetres (Diaphorodoris alba, which can be found in poor light) to twelve centimetres, (Doris pseudoargus, Sea lemon)

                                Rainbow sea slug (Babakina anadoni)

Image courtesy Wikimedia Commons

A rainbow sea slug (Babakina anadoni) was discovered recently in a rockpool in Devon. They are usually found in the warm Mediterranean waters around Portugal, Spain, and France. At less than two centimetres, this tiny animal was a happy find for a volunteer with the Rock Pool Project. 

Aspidistra

 

Aspidistra (Aspidistra eliator)

                                            Aspidistra eliator

Image courtesy Wikimedia Commons

It wasn’t the biggest aspidistra in the world, but it had been growing well in the dining room for several years. Aspidistra has the reputation of being impossible to kill. This summer, that reputation was wrecked, as the hot weather killed it off, assisted by my lack of attention. It had almost reached the point of no return several times in recent years, but this time, it was curtains. Nothing I could do would revive it. I have left the sad remains in the pot. It may surprise me yet, but I’m not overly optimistic.

The cast iron or bar room plant originates in southern Japan, growing in dense shade under trees. The leaves emerge from ground level and the flowers, which appear in summer, are found at ground level, too.

By 2008, ninety-three species of aspidistra had been identified. Among them are plants whose leaves emerge chocolate brown in colour and then turn green, and others with speckled markings.

 It was greatly prized by the Victorians as a symbol of middle-class affluence. It was a plant that could withstand limited sunlight and the poor conditions imposed by open coal fires.

The clip of Gracie Fields singing 'The biggest aspidistra in the world' was recorded in 1977 when she was seventy-nine years old. She died two years later.

The ‘ber’ months

 

The ‘ber’ months

I don’t live under a rock, but the expression, ‘the ber months’ is new to me. Until a couple of weeks ago, I had never heard it, but now it’s cropping up everywhere, and today it appeared on the front cover of our community magazine, Crowthorne Eye.

Though the cover adjures readers to ‘Enjoy the ‘Ber’ months, there is nothing inside to encourage that, apart from one sentence that says, ‘. . . it won’t be long before our beautiful County turns golden, the best time of year to enjoy the outdoors with so many woodland walks on our doorstep.’  

It is true that we are blessed with acres of woodland, and surprising that more people don’t take advantage of them. It’s still commonplace to take long walks in this busy county without seeing another soul.

However, I started thinking about other conceivable aggregations of months, but there is only one, the ‘ry’ months of January and February. If the ‘ber’ months conjure up images of golden leaves and fiery sunsets, the ‘ry’ season, at least in the northern hemisphere, promises, or threatens, biting winds, driving rain, ice, frost, snow, and fog. There can be bright days, with thin sunshine in an arctic blue sky, but they are overwhelmed by the dark hours and the gloom, and the very real desire to reach home, close the curtains and soak up comforting warmth.

We try to cheer each other up by saying, ‘February is a short month,’ but really we’re fooling ourselves. It would be more accurate to define it as ‘shorter.’ For three out of every four years, February has twenty-eight days, but in a leap year, it has twenty-nine. So, it’s two or three days shorter, depending on which month it’s being compared to. That’s the equivalent of a weekend, even a long weekend, or possibly half a working week, so not to be sneezed at. It does not, however, compensate for the sheer bone-chilling, soul-sapping misery of February.

January enjoys the afterglow of the ‘festive season,’ even when the bills come in, and there may be momentary regrets about the overindulgence that was enjoyed. February has nothing to recommend it. The children contract every indisposition known to mankind and generously pass them on to their nearest and dearest. More than one child in the family means there will be a recurring circus of infection.

If a doctor’s appointment is required, and you are actually able to meet a medical professional face to face, you will discover that they fall victim to even more germs than the average family. You leave the surgery feeling very sorry that you’ve troubled such an obviously unwell adult with your problems.

All bad things come to an end. The ‘ry’ months are soon forgotten in the bold and blustery month of March, when signs of spring are all around . . . and so the year progresses.                  

Sea otter awareness week

 

Sea otter awareness week

                                       Image courtesy Wikimedia Commons

September 21^st- 27^th  2025

This week is organised annually by Defenders of Wildlife, Sea Otter Savvy, California Department of Parks and Recreation, the Elakha Alliance and the Monterey Bay Aquarium.

Places to see sea otters

                                            Image courtesy Wikimedia Commons

Otters (Enhydra lutris) are the largest members of the weasel family. They are intelligent, resourceful animals. In the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries, they were hunted almost to extinction for their dense pelts, which were used to make exceptionally warm, luxurious clothes. There were once three hundred thousand otters in the Pacific Northwest. That number has dropped to around one hundred and fifty thousand.

 In 1911, the International Fur Seal Treaty was enacted, marking the beginning of a slow population recovery. Sixty-one years later, the Marine Mammal Protection Act of 1972 was passed, which made it  ‘illegal to hunt, harass, or kill marine mammals in U.S. waters.’

The sea otter is a keystone species, eating and controlling the population of sea urchins which might otherwise decimate the coastal kelp forests. Kelp is essential for carbon sequestration and so the otters play a significant role in balancing the delicate ecosystem.

                                    Image courtesy Wikimedia Commons

Sea otters have probably used tools for millions of years, this proven by the rearing of orphaned otters, who have shown an innate ability to break open shells. Frequently, otters show that they favour one rock over another, carrying it with them in a fold of skin under their arms. Sometimes, if the rock is not sufficient for the job, or has been lost, they will smash a shell against the side of a boat or other hard surface, or use a crab claw to prise it open.

Otters eat, feed their young, and sleep on their backs. They form rafts with other otters, holding paws to maintain contact and avoid drifting away. Otter cubs are unable to dive underwater until they have grown their adult coat.

Sea otters are still an endangered species. While they are no longer hunted, they require clean water. They constantly clean their coats, the millions of hairs of which trap air to keep them warm, so are susceptible to contaminants.

 
Image courtesy Wikimedia Commons

Booking an appointment

 

Booking an appointment

Small rant!

The optician advised me to book a blood cholesterol test, so on Wednesday I submitted an online request and was informed that I would be contacted within twenty-four hours.

On Friday, not having heard anything, I ‘phoned the medical practice. I was number nineteen on the list, but was offered the option of pressing 1 and told I would not lose my place in the queue and would receive a call back. I waited patiently, making sure my ‘phone was in easy reach at all times. After an hour, I lost all concentration and moved onto other things. There was no call back.

I decided I would start again on Monday and sit on the ‘phone until I achieved my objective. This morning, in my email, the following message appeared:

Please DO NOT reply to this email address as it will NOT be delivered to your healthcare provider.

Dear Mrs Cooke,
All our clinicians will be operating an Urgent only service on 22 & 23 Sept for issues that cannot wait.
You’ll be able to submit requests directly through our website using Rapid Health from Wed 24 Sept. Please see attached for further information.

Thank you,

To view your attachment, please follow this link: https://accurx.nhs.uk/c/p-s7hf8qr6vw

Ringmead Medical Group

However, I will not be attempting to use the new ‘Rapid Health’ system on Wednesday that is replacing the ‘Klinik’ system, as the link tells me it is not for routine appointments. I haven’t got anything else to do on Wednesday, so will sit on the ‘phone and wait, listening to the awful, mind-numbing musak and the oft-repeated messages about emergencies. Thank goodness I don’t go out to work any longer.

Heaven help those who have urgent requirements!