ABC Wednesday X is for Xanadu

In Xanadu did Kubla Khan

A stately pleasure-dome decree

Where Alph, the sacred river, ran

Through caverns measureless to man

Down to a sunless sea.

Extract from 'Kubla Khan' written by Samuel Taylor Coleridge (1772-1834) and published in 1816

Xanadu, previously known as Kai Ping, was the summer capital of the Yuan Dynasty. The Mongolian Yuan Dynasty was founded in 1271 by Kublai Khan, grandson of Gengis Khan. It ruled China from 1279 to 1368. Emperor Kublai Khan made Dadu, present-day Beijing, the capital of his empire, but the summer heat and humidity of the city persuaded him to establish an alternative capital closer to the cooler plains of his native Mongolia.

Xanadu first came to the notice of the Western world after Marco Polo visited the city in 1275. It was portrayed by him and later by Coleridge as exotic, mysterious and filled with riches.
Thank you to Denise Nesbitt for her hard work in organising and hosting this meme.
Click here to see what others have found for X.

Camera Critters #90, Pet Pride Gus-in-a-box#2

It's amazing the things that come boxed these days! Here's the little chap chewing his way out like a bird from an egg . . .
Grateful thanks to the organisers of these memes for their hard work!
To see what others have to offer please click on Camera Critters and Pet Pride

ABC Wednesday W is for Warrior

figurehead

HMS Warrior

cannon

All images © Rémi Jouan, CC-BY-SA, GNU Free Documentation License, Wikimedia Commons

HMS Warrior was the pride of Queen Victoria's fleet and was the first iron-clad warship to be built. When she was launched in 1860 by Queen Victoria she was the largest, fastest and most powerful ship of her day. It took 35 months to build her and she was powered by steam and sail. She is the only surviving ship of her kind in the world and revolutionised naval architecture. However, the pace of technological development was so great that within ten years she was obsolete.

For the next century she was used as a depot ship, a storage hulk and then became part of the Royal Navy Torpedo Training School at Portsmouth. Following that she was used as an oil jetty in Milford Haven before being rescued and towed to Hartlepool where work began on restoring her.

Now she is berthed in Portsmouth Historic Dockyard where she is a popular tourist attraction. She is a stunning, sleekly built, strikingly impressive warship. The Warrior Preservation Trust's remit has been to restore her as far as possible to her original condition. A tour around Warrior shows visitors how Victorian sailors lived on board.

Thank you to Denise Nesbitt for organising and hosting this meme.

To see what others have been finding for 'W' please click here.

Meet Gerard Culpeper

Gerard Culpeper is a pastry chef. He is a pleasant-looking fellow – you know the type, neither handsome nor plug ugly. His skin is clear and smooth and his dark hair clean and well-cut. He's of medium height, around 5'10", and moderately well-built. He's no Mr Universe (how do those muscle-bound men manage to move?) but he's not flabby. I imagine he follows an exercise régime of some sort probably involving walking or running, perhaps cycling or rowing, all of which activities must be pursued in a gymnasium since he works long hours and often does not leave his place of employment before dark falls. I can't see him playing squash or badminton or any team sports since he spends his working days in close confinement with many other people and needs the relaxation of being solitary for a while. He's about 35 years old and though he is well-known to his colleagues and well-liked if not popular, for some reason his name escapes them. He thinks it is because he is a quiet sort of chap, a listener rather than a talker but so tired has he become of being called Jack or Jim or Colin that he has taken to wearing a badge with his name printed neatly on it.

GERARD CULPEPER

Pastry chef

How do I know him? The truth is, I don't. Gerard Culpeper sprang fully-formed into my consciousness as I woke this morning. Why he should have chosen me as his channel of communication I do not know. I have never met anyone called Gerard or Culpeper, though of course I have heard of Culpeper's Herbal. (Culpeper's Complete Herbal, written by Nicholas Culpeper and published in 1653.)

Photograph courtesy of Wikimedia Commons

I frequently encounter odd characters in the moments before I'm quite awake but rarely remember them. To the best of my knowledge I never see the same 'person' twice. Do you?

The North Wind doth blow . . .

The north wind doth blow,

And we shall have snow,

And what will poor robin do then, poor thing?

He'll sit in a barn,

And keep himself warm,

And hide his head under his wing, poor thing.

This British Nursery rhyme is thought to date from the 16^th century. It was intended to teach children to associate safety, warmth and security with home while allowing them to empathise with the situation of the robin.

The birds have been busier on the feeders since the weather has become colder, building up their fat reserves for the weeks to come and the huge expenditure of energy in the breeding season which starts much earlier than we may appreciate. During the autumn and early winter the robins have been defending their territories preparatory to pairing off. The female robin does all the chasing and eventually decides on her mate after visiting several males. The first indication of a pairing is two robins feeding alongside each other but they will not breed until Spring.

The Third Blog of Augustus Lazarus Cooke (Gus)

Hello everyone!

I'm fifteen weeks old on Sunday and growing fast . . . I'm nearly half the size of Jenna!

I told you in my last blog that I had learnt to climb the stairs. Now I do it all the time and I can come downstairs. I'm ever so careful like Buddy but Buddy's careful 'coz he can't see very well and I'm careful 'coz I don't want to fall and hurt myself. My Humans still carry me down during the night if I need to go out and first thing in the morning. They say I'm getting ever so heavy. I can get up onto the settee now and that's great. I can lie next to Buddy – I even rested on him the other day and he didn't grumble once.

I still like getting in Frodo's bed though I don't fit as well as I did. (I really like Frodo!)

I think he likes sharing with me 'coz the other day I was in his bed and he got in with me. He trod on me a bit but not for long and it didn't hurt. He's ever so warm to cuddle up to. (Oh, I really like Frodo – he's great!)

I go out walking with the big dogs but we don't go for long walks 'coz I'm still quite young and my Humans say I mustn't overdo it (whatever 'it' is!)

Today was ever such a lot of fun 'coz there was cold white stuff all over the forest – it's called SNOW and it smells funny – nice, but funny and all the usual smells are hidden underneath it. It's hard to run in and I got tired quite quickly. Frodo and Jenna ran so fast they slid on it but they didn't mind. (I think Frodo's really cool – I want to be just like him when I grow up.)

Jenna plays with me lots except when we go out, then she's only interested in the ball the Humans fling for her. Today I discovered that if I pick up the ball before she does she's more interested in me. Actually, I think she's trying to show me what to do and I'm learning 'dead' which means 'drop it in front of the Humans'.

Mrs H is going to find a class for me – I don't know what that means but I expect I'll like it. I've liked everything so far. Something called 'Christmas' is coming and I don't know what that is either but I think there are going to be more visitors and some new people for me to meet. I'm looking forward to that.

It's been a busy day so I'm going to have another snooze, specially as Tia and Foxy are coming tomorrow with their Humans for a couple of days.

Hwyl fawr am nawr! (That's Welsh for 'Goodbye for now!'

SkyWatch Friday Season 4 Episode 22 Winter skies

Yesterday dawned with a heavy frost and felt bitterly cold. It was no surprise when snow started falling. When we took our afternoon walk the light was fading fast and mist was thickening. It was invigorating and the dogs had great fun. Earlier in the year these 'fields' were thick with trees.

They were harvested, the ground turned over and saplings planted. Our familiar landscape had changed and revealed new walks. Fresh ponds were created.

This morning was beautiful - blue sky and bright sunshine and it felt warmer but as the day wore on dark clouds gathered and there were several falls of snow which didn't settle.
By the middle of the afternoon, around 2:30, clouds were scudding across the sky changing the skyscape every few seconds.
Full darkness came early and with it a drop in temperature. Ice is making the ground treacherous and we're promised more snow tomorrow. Because our weather changes so rapidly on this small island we don't usually have long spells of one condition and never seem to be prepared for 'bad' weather so doubtless there will be all sorts of transport problems. However, most schools will have broken up by the end of the day so there will be a noticeable drop in the volume of traffic on the roads.Thank you to the hard-working SkyWatch team for organising and hosting this fascinating meme. To see skies around the world please click here.

Winston’s mid-December blog 2009

Winston here . . . p'rrrrr, p'rrrrr . . .
It's getting very busy here don'tcha know. Paul was here last week to do some work but Gillian and the children had to go to school. Now the doorbell keeps ringing and lots of parcels have arrived – big ones, small ones, heavy and light. Mr and Mrs Human unpack them them Mrs Hsays, 'I'll wrap them later.' WHAT??? I'm only a cat (though I'm pretty smart as cats go) but what's the point of unwrapping things to wrap them up again? Why not leave them as they are? I think humans make work for themselves – they should learn from us cats; we do as little as we can but do it in style. We don't rush about needlessly – 'course, if there's bird-watching going on or fly-catching we're as busy as the next being.
Talking of needless rushing Gus is an expert at that. He's forever charging around though he's happier to rest now he can get on the settee with Buddy. Sometimes he gets into Frodo's bed and Frodo grumbles but doesn't do anything. If Gus is in his bed Frodo climbs in on top of him anyway so I don't think he really minds. Monty and me have made our feelings plain and Gus is treating us with a bit lot more respect. He's bigger than us now and much heavier. I even share his food sometimes. He's all right since he's learned some manners. Monty thinks he's almost as good to curl up with as Jenna. Jenna isn't afraid of Gus now – she plays with him all the time and Frodo plays too sometimes.
White bits are coming out of the sky! I don't know why but the humans get ever so excited when they see them. Humans are funny, don'tcha think? Ooer, it's coming down fast now and the wind's blowing it around and it's getting dark and it's only half past the afternoon. I can't tell the time, only roughly, but the Humans know when we want our meals so me and Monty don't have to bother with clocks and things.
Last weekend was ever so good 'coz Elliot and Eve and Louis come to stay. We didn't see much of Elliot but Eve and Louis played with all of us – it was fun but we was ever so tired when they went home. Before that Bethan come home for a couple of days. 'Course, she spent a lot of time playing with Gus and that kept him out of our fur. She'll be home again soon for Christmas.
On Saturday Gillian and Marnie and Kiri and Callum are coming for the weekend. That's nice and Tia and Foxy are coming too but us cats feel are a bit completely outnumbered. It's all right unless they get on the Humans' bed 'coz then there's not much no room for me and Monty if we want to sleep there.

It's quite tiring exhausting watching all this going on. Me and Monty cuddle up together, wash each other's awkward bits – you know, between the shoulder blades and under the chin – and then we sleep . . . and sleep . . . and sleep.

Don't know if I'll be blogging again before Christmas. If I don't me and Monty want to wish all you folks out there – Humans, cats, dogs, horses, rabbits, guinea pigs and everything else - a Very Happy Christmas! (or Chanuka)

TTFN

I believe I can fly . . .

When I was little I was convinced I could fly, could even close my eyes and relive the sensation of travelling weightlessly through the air. My belief stayed with me well into my teenage years though I knew it could not be so and I never expressed it. With age came the realisation that I had experienced only vivid dreams but it was a powerful conviction that remained long after common sense had declared otherwise.

One of Bethan's university friends was vehement that she had indeed flown. Is it something all young animals feel? Certainly none of my children ever told me they could fly and I haven't had opportunity to discuss the phenomenon with my grandchildren.

It seems that some of our dogs may have understood it. Our latest pup, Gus, definitely does! I can almost hear him singing 'I believe I can fly' in these photographs. Play the Yolanda Adams clip as you scroll down and see if you don't agree with me!

Building up to take-off - ears working well and two legs off the ground . . .

Three legs off the ground, ears still working well, mouth closed for aerodynamic efficiency (Barry says 'low Reynolds number, which is why recumbent cycles are banned from the Tour de France . . . )
Coming at it from a different angle . . .Tail working well but one leg still in contact with the ground . . .

A little more upward thrust . . .
Let's try lifting the back legs first - note the concentration!

Gus sees his big spotty friend at the same time as he becomes momentarily airborne . . .

Gus to Frodo: Look at me Frodo, I can fly . . . Wheeeeee . . .

Frodo to Gus: Yes, very good, little chap . . . I remember doing that when I was a little feller . . .

Whip the tail faster - that might help!
Success! (but will it last?)
Coming in to touch down - front paws outspread, ears and tail being lowered . . .
Oof! Bumpy landing!

Brakes on, chocks down . . . (Gus: . . . don't know what it means, but it sounds good!)
One last short flight then home to supper and bed . . .

Today's Flowers #70 Clivia

The Clivia or Kaffir Lily is a member of the Amaryllis family (Amaryllidaceae) native to Southern Africa. It is also known as the bush lily. The flowers emerge almost secretively from the shelter at the base of the strappy evergreen leaves. Unlike many plants it thrives in conditions varying from bright to dim light and in dry or moist soil. For best results though, it should be grown in bright diffused light in moist soil.
In the summer it can be taken outside but needs to be brought in before first frosts. Eventually the fleshy roots fill the pot and then the plant can be divided. Clivias benefit from a dry rest period of about two months in winter - flowers produced from plants that have not rested rarely grow their stems much above the base of the plant.
Thank you to the team for Today's Flowers - we appreciate the time and effort you put into organising and hosting this meme.

Click here to see more beautiful photographs from around the world.

Circuses

Margaret Gosden's post for 'Motion Thursday' focused on the circus and a protest against the use of animals in circus acts. I blithely (and if I'm honest rather smugly) deplored the fact that some countries still allowed such things and added that they were 'a no-no' in UK. Margaret asked if lions were banned in acts and when I checked before responding I discovered I was WRONG! I was so convinced that they were outlawed that I didn't verify it before posting my comment. It seems they're a no-no only in my mind even though most people I know are of like opinion.

Between 150 and 200 animals are still 'entertaining' audiences in British circuses. Most of them are wild animals and include elephants, zebras, lions, tigers, camels, crocodiles, snakes and a kangaroo. These animals are protected by the Animal Welfare Act 2006 but there is no law preventing circuses using them in their acts.

This page from 2001 http://www.captiveanimals.org/circuses/circus.htm gives information that makes uncomfortable reading. There are 38 wild animals left in UK circuses but there are still domestic animals that are forced to lead unnatural lives and trained with harsh methods.

If you intend to visit a circus this year please go to one where the entertainers are there of their own volition and have a choice in the actions they perform. Be thrilled by the high wire artistes and laugh at the clowns (I don't like clowns, actually and I don't like slapstick humour.) Marvel at the skill of jugglers and tumblers but please don't support the exploitation of animals.

Christmas approaches . . .

I've just been reading Owlfarmer's post on gifts and it sparked memories of Christmases past.

In the post-war years of the mid to late forties the UK was struggling to recover from years of devastation and hardship. Food was still rationed and people thought carefully about how they used their allowances. Christmas was a time to enjoy something a little different, a treat.

In our house the children would wake to the exciting heaviness of a Christmas stocking at our feet. Packed inside would be all manner of small inexpensive gifts and in the toe of the stocking we would find a tangerine and a handful of nuts.

I recall my mother drawing and plucking a chicken for our Christmas dinner. Chicken was a luxury and we had one at Christmas and perhaps another at Easter. Dinner was roast chicken 'with all the trimmings' which allowed the meat to go a little further. My mother cooked roast potatoes, parsnips, Brussels sprouts, carrots, giblet gravy and bread sauce. To follow there were mince pies and Christmas pudding with brandy butter with the anticipation of finding a silver sixpence in your helping. Christmas crackers were fun and we liked the silly hats and trinkets inside and the groaning jokes.

In the afternoon we would have the gift-giving ceremony. Each child would take it in turn to pick a parcel from beneath the tree and give it to the named recipient. We would all watch and enjoy the pleasure of the unwrapping and the final showing of the gift. Often it would be an item of clothing which would have to be tried on and modelled for our delight. When that present had been thoroughly appreciated by everyone the next package would be selected. So an enjoyable afternoon would be spent giving, receiving and thanking.

Tea followed – Christmas cake with silver ball decorations and a Father Christmas standing on the white icing 'snow'. After that, before bed-time, we would play board games or cards or read. It was a warm, relaxed time in front of a crackling fire. Thinking back now I wonder just how relaxed my mother felt by the end of the day!

On Boxing Day we would have soup, cold meat and bubble and squeak. My parents tried to make the special feeling of Christmas last a while longer by holding back a few little gifts which were always said to be 'from the tree.' Around the room were small boxes of chocolates, dates, figs and bowls of fruit that we could sample. We enjoyed them for their rarity and because it would be another year before such a feast was spread again.

Shopping for food in those days entailed visiting many specialist shops – bread from the baker, dry goods like tea and flour from the grocer, meat from the butcher, fruit and vegetables from the greengrocer, fish from the fishmonger, confectionery from the sweet shop. The shopping list would follow the route to be taken, starting with the greengrocer at the far end of town. Shops were open for a matter of hours, from 8:00 or 9:00 a.m until 5:30 or 6:00 p.m for five or five and a half days. They shut at close of business on Christmas Eve and opened again on the first working day after Boxing Day. If someone had neglected to buy something she needed she would have to go without it until the shops were re-opened. Provided all the necessities were in the larder there was a tremendous feeling of relief once there was no possibility of shopping again until after the holiday.

Now everything is available throughout the year. The seasonal foods no longer hold sway since whatever is desired may be purchased at any time, fresh, frozen, dried, produced locally or thousands of miles away. In the western world we live in a bubble of self-indulgence, able to satisfy our every whim and fancy at any time of day or night. If the local shop is closed there's always an all-night garage or a twenty-four-hour store if we really cannot wait for our fix of whatever we want.

During the last twenty years or so Christmas increasingly has developed into a festival of greed and commercialism. From August the Christmas catalogues start to arrive, each charity exhorting expenditure on often tawdry items. Later 'Good causes' beg us to support them and in December Salvation Army and silver bands pluck at our heart and purse strings with their brassy renditions of carols, many of which will be unfamiliar to young school-children. The supermarkets blare out endless repetitions of ghastly versions of seasonal songs old and new and worse still, shoppers find themselves singing along. Houses sprout unlikely decorations – blinking, twinkling, nerve-rending flashing lights in all colours while jolly Santas stride across roof-tops and inflatable reindeer prance behind them. Is it because our winters are so drear that we embrace these gaudy decorations? Sunlight may be scarce but we can make our own brightness – and it all looks so sad when Christmas is over. There's a brief renewal in the lead-up to New Year's Eve, a final flash of brightness of fireworks as the Old Year dies and finally we face cold, dull January and wonder if there will ever be dazzling days again.

Where is the true meaning of Christmas now? Is our anticipation always to be disappointed because we have so much all the time and salve our consciences for those who have nothing by dropping coins in a collection tin? Where is the joy? For me it is in the faces of my family in the moments when they are laughing or day-dreaming or simply enjoying each other's company, in the wonderment of small children as they see something they have never seen before, in the quiet moments when walking alone or waking in the night when everyone else sleeps. These times are present throughout the year but take on special significance at Christmas. Whatever your beliefs or lack of them, this annual holiday affords a time for reflection. Take a moment from the rushing crowds or the press of visitors and look up, maybe (probably!) through the rain at the vastness of the sky and consider your place in the universe. We are insignificant organisms struggling towards the light. We came from stardust and to stardust we will return.

'For dust thou art, and unto dust shalt thou return' Genesis 3:19

Older men

My apologies if you have read this before – I thought it might elicit a wry grin – or do I mean groan?

An elderly Australian man owned a large property through which a stream ran. He had built a dam some years before to create a pool for swimming. One evening he strolled down to check that all was well and took with him a bucket to collect apples from the trees that grew nearby.

As he approached the pool he heard voices shouting and laughing and when he was closer he saw that a number of young women were skinny-dipping in the water. When the bathers saw him they moved into deeper water and called out, 'We're not coming out until you leave!'

The old man frowned. 'I didn't come down here to watch you girls,' he said. Holding up the bucket he continued, 'I've come to feed the crocodile.'

The moral of this tale is that older men may walk slowly but they can still think fast!

The Further Adventures of Frodo the Faller – thief extraordinaire – and his partners-in-crime!

Dominie, Cariadd and Buddy wait hopefully! No chance of pilfering here!

Something has attracted the attention of Cariadd, Dominie and Buddy . . . could it be food?

Buddy, in the days when his hind legs were strong enough, urged on by Dominie into an act of larceny! We've never caught Frodo in the act but he can reach higher and further than any of the others ever could!

Frodo recently had blood tests to determine how well his liver is coping with his anti-epilepsy drugs (AEDs) All readings were in the normal range apart from ALP (Alkaline phosphatase) which was exceptionally high. Therefore he was 'invited' back to the vets to spend the morning as an in-patient for further blood tests and a liver scan.
Initial results indicated that all was well and we brought our boy home and fussed over him. 'Poor boy,' we said, 'He needs a quiet time to recover.' (He had had a light sedative prior to the scan.)

So, feeling sympathetic and kindly towards him we forgot his propensity for high speed thievery – this resulted in a Pyrex dish which had contained food being dashed to the tiled kitchen floor whereupon Greedy Gus, twelve weeks old, dived in and started eating glass fragments. He was delighted to find that he was offered bread – as much as he could take – and we were relieved that he didn't appear to have ingested any glass. Inspecting his 'output' took on a special urgency but so far – several days later – nothing glittery, sharp and light-reflecting has appeared.
Normally Frodo is circumspect in his robbery, waiting until he is alone but the temptation the other day was just too much for him. I had put a leg of pork in my much-loved Le Creuset bean pot ready to add the cure. Buoyed up by my success in curing bacon I had decided to cure a ham for Christmas. Only time will tell if I was well-advised to try it!

I turned away to rinse out the packaging before binning it – I wash all food packets and containers to make them less alluring to the animals and then the rubbish is deposited in a bag hung up supposedly - though sadly not always - out of their reach. The cats stealthily approach from the work tops and stretch their paws and claws to capture the enticing waste within the garbage while the bigger dogs stand on their hind legs. Buddy's legs, though adequate for walking and running, are not strong enough to allow him to do this now so he has to rely on Frodo to purloin exciting titbits. Even Jenna who is a working Labrador and not particularly tall can reach extraordinary heights when required. Standing on tiptoe and extending her remarkably long and agile tongue she can pilfer almost as many things as Frodo the Faller. Conventional bins are useless in our house – the cats and dogs are in cahoots with each other and work as a razor-sharp team for each other's mutual benefit. Many years ago the predecessors of our current menagerie found a way of breaking into the fridge we then had and enjoying the contents therein. Now we ensure that any fridge or cupboard we have closes too securely for even the most determined of noses, paws or claws to succeed in burgling forays. Buddy Liver Spots has one of the strongest and most muscular noses known to the canine world and can slide open heavy patio doors. Throughout our house there can be seen evidence of the BNL – Buddy Nose Line but we have foiled him. So – alles läuft gut! Everything is safe – but my precious bean pot was not!
As I made the packaging safe there came unto my ears an hideous crash. (Please forgive the archaic phrasing – there's something about this time of year – Advent - that causes my brain to work in mysterious ways – there I go again! It's the result of many years working with children on Nativity plays and tableaux and encouraging them to appreciate the beauty of the English language while at the same time finding sense and meaning in it! Yes, I miss it . . . )
I looked spun round to see my pretty pot in pieces (nice alliteration, that!) Buddy, not quite believing his good fortune (Gee, thanks Frodo – I owe you!) had his teeth jaws round the joint and was preparing to enjoy his prize. Frodo was looking pleased, proud, amazed, sheepish (he's my Velcro dog and likes me to think he wants only and always to please me) Gus was demonstrating his impersonation of Tigger which he always does when excited by the presence of food, Jenna was looking worried and indicating that she was not the guilty party, just an innocent by-stander, and the cats were waiting, as cats do, for the opportunity to claim the trophy for their own.
I grabbed the meat from Buddy's mouth – it wasn't even punctured (the meat, that is) and ran it under the tap. (What a strange expression that is! I didn't run anywhere with it, it didn't run anywhere, all that ran was the water!) The dogs were relegated to the sitting room and I shut the kitchen door to clear up the sharp shards of the smithereens of my pot. I found another receptacle – the curing mixture only slops over the sides a little – and now the meat slumbers in the fridge metamorphosing from pork to ham.
Christmas, fast approaching, requires special vigilance. More people equals more food equates to more opportunities for surreptitious sampling of forbidden fruit (under which umbrella term lurk turkey, bacon, ham, pâté, sausages, cheeses, cheesecakes, cream, mince pies, Christmas pudding, tortes, biscuits sweet and savoury . . . ) Gillian's children from early childhood have memorised the many and various places in which plates of food may be found. They will never forget Buddy and the chocolate cake. In his youth he swiftly devoured a complete cake offering 8 to 10 servings; we worried for his health as chocolate is toxic to dogs but though rather portly for a time he was not otherwise adversely affected.
Serving Christmas lunch is an obstacle course. Doors, particularly the kitchen door, must not be left open and animals other than humans are not allowed in the dining room. How we have not turned ourselves into a profitable circus act I cannot fathom as we balance trays and plates of hot food while standing on one leg and shooing animals and opening and closing doors at high speed, taking care not to trap paws, tails, heads or fingers. Nonetheless it is frequently the case that we sit down with a corporate sigh of relief only to discover that somehow Frodo and Buddy have managed to sidle unnoticed into the room and are lying obediently and innocently under the table.

I can't wait . . . ! *wink*

Camera Critters #87 Gus adores Frodo!

Gus adores Frodo and does everything he can to gain Frodo's respect. Washing his chin also means that there might be a hint of a shadow of a smidgen of a scent of a miniscule splash of food. Actually that's not at all likely but Gus has been in the kitchen when Frodle-dodle has thieved something so he's hanging in there with him just in case! Frodo is very tolerant and rather likes the close attention though he would never admit it.

Gus, tongue tired and eyelids beginning to droop, prepares to sleep, hoping that Frodes won't kick him out of bed!
Thank you to Misty Dawn for creating and hosting this meme.

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Shadow Shot Sunday #81 Photo call!

Barry has photographed this Daddy Long-legs (Pholcus phalangioides) so many times recently that it thinks another photo call beckons every time the light goes on in our downstairs loo. As I washed my hands the other day it dropped down on a silken thread right in front of my face as if to say, 'I'm here . . . I'm ready . . . how do you want me?' It made me jump but I am definitely much steadier around spiders these days though I do look all around when I go into the small room and if there are too many arachnid visitors there I decide I need the exercise entailed in walking upstairs!

Daddy Long-legs spiders are found all year round in UK and are particularly common in the South. They are about 10mm long and eat mites and small insects. They can always be found in houses and sometimes in caves. Apparently if they are disturbed they shake their bodies so fast that they become a blur. Obviously ours are extremely relaxed around humans since we have never observed this behaviour!

I am quite fond of Daddy Long-legs - the name is attractive. I also loved the 1955 film of that name in which Fred Astaire starred with Leslie Caron. I could watch Fred Astaire dance for hours and never tire . . . and I like his pleasant light singing voice. You can watch him here.

Thank you to Tracy from 'Hey Harriet' for creating and hosting this meme.

What else has been casting shadows? Click here to find out!

Girls and boys come out to play

It is usual for young puppies to want to go outside during the night to relieve themselves. Small as they are, bladder and bowels soon reach capacity and need to be emptied.

The last couple of nights the waning gibbous moon has shone so brightly that an outside light has not been necessary for me to see our small black Gus. Feeling comfortable once more he scampers back upstairs, climbs into Frodo's bed and then returns to his pen when Frodo grumbles at him. In two shakes of a lamb's tail – or a puppy's tail – he's asleep and dreaming once more.

On the other hand I am now wide awake, though tired and needing to sleep. The brilliance of the moon has led my mind to the old Nursery rhyme 'Girls and boys come out to play' and I begin to wonder about its origins.

There are regional variations of this rhyme but the commonest one is as follows:

Girls and boys come out to play,

The moon doth shine as bright as day;

Leave your supper and leave your sleep

And come with your playfellows into the street.

Come with a whoop and come with a call,

Come with a good will or not at all.

Up the ladder and down the wall,

A halfpenny loaf will serve us all.

Some versions add the following:

You find milk and I'll find flour

And we'll have a pudding in half an hour.

Alternative renderings place boys before girls.

The rhyme has been in existence since at least 1708 when the first two lines were printed in dance books. The earliest known collection of nursery rhymes was published in London in 'Tommy Thumb's Pretty Song Book' in 1744 and contained the first six lines.

Why, though, would children be invited to play in the street by moonlight?

Prior to the beginning of the Industrial Revolution children often worked alongside their parents when the work load was heavy, for example during harvest. Once the Revolution was under way they became essential to the domestic economy when all able-bodied members of poor working class families were expected to work to bring in money. Under the Poor Laws failure to provide for the family often meant that its members were sent to the Workhouse, where husband and wife would be separated from each other and their children. Workhouse conditions were grim and degrading and people did their very best to avoid the destitution that would force them to seek support from the parish.

Thus were children from a tender age put to work, often in appallingly dangerous conditions. Many employers preferred to hire children as they were cheaper to employ than adults, were nimbler and could be used in confined spaces. For example in the coal mines a child might start work at 2 o'clock in the morning opening and shutting wooden doors to let air into the tunnels. He or she sat in the cold damp dark, alone, with a single candle until 8 o'clock in the evening. Other children pulled the heavy trucks of coal or worked on the surface sorting coal.

Some boys were employed as chimney sweeps, often climbing up inside the narrow branching chimneys of grand houses, scraping off soot. When they emerged, cut and bruised, their master would rub salt water on their elbows and knees before sending them up other chimneys. Charles Kingsley wrote 'The Water Babies' which gives an idea of the life of a young sweep before his escape.

In the textile factories children might work for 16 hours cleaning machines while they were still running. Workers lost fingers and some were crushed by the huge machines. The smallest children were sent under the machines to tie broken threads. It mattered little to the factory owners if their defenceless labourers died – children were cheap in all senses for a dead child was easily replaced from the many in orphanages.

So the poverty-stricken, hard-working children had little time for leisure. Generally starting work at the age of five many of them were dead before they were twenty-five, killed in accidents or through ill-health caused by lack of fresh air, good food, exercise, poor working conditions.

However, children will play when they have opportunity and this nursery rhyme gives an indication of when they might have been able to forget the harshness of their lives and enjoy themselves for a short while.

The YouTube clip is (I think!) an Australian rendition of the rhyme and dance. It amuses me for many reasons!

Once in a Blue Moon

The moving Moon went up the sky,

And nowhere did abide;

Softly she was going up

And a star or two beside - -

From 'The Rime of the Ancient Mariner' by Samuel Taylor Coleridge (1772 – 1834)

The expression 'Once in a Blue Moon' means 'infrequently' or 'rarely' and originally referred to a second full moon in the same calendar month. December 2009 is a Blue Moon month so we can anticipate another full moon on New Year's Eve to shepherd out the old year and welcome in the new. Theoretically, since the moon is full every 29½ days, all months apart from February could experience a Blue Moon but they occur on average only every 33 months. The next Blue Moon after this month's will not be seen until August 2012. A newer definition of Blue Moon describes it as the third of four full moons in a season. I prefer the first characterisation since the seasons, in UK at least, are not always clearly delineated. The December full moon is called the Moon Before Yule, Long Night Moon, Christmas Moon or, more prosaically, the Cold Moon. Last night's full moon, though not the Blue Moon, appeared to have a bluish tinge as it shone through misty clouds.

Perhaps you will have the words and tune of Rodgers' and Hart's song running through your head when you see the words 'Blue Moon' . . .

Blue moon,

you saw me standing alone

without a dream in my heart

without a love on my own.

You can listen to Julie London singing it here

ABC Wednesday Round 5 - T

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Thank you To Denise NesbiTT for hosTing This meme.

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