Introducing Gus

Gus - a few hours old. Note the size of the paws!

Jenna has been a very successful addition to our family and we have often said we would love to have another puppy like her.When Jenna-the-Labrador's breeders contacted us to say that Jenna's dam was being mated and ask if we were interested in reserving a puppy we had to think long and hard. We were very tempted, though it would mean we had five dogs, rising to seven when Tia and Foxy visit. However, one of our dogs, Gentle Dominie, is fast approaching the Rainbow Bridge and Buddy Liver Spots will be fourteen next March. The deciding factor was Jenna herself. She delights in her Labrador friends and is in low spirits for a few days after they return to their own home. Thus we replied to Charlotte that we would like a sister for Jenna.

The puppies were due on 9th September but on September 8th Stormy went into labour and soon found herself in difficulties as two puppies were squeezing into the birth canal. An emergency caesarian section was performed but of her five puppies two were delivered dead. The other three, a bitch and two dogs, were lethargic - commonplace in such circumstances - and had to be rubbed vigorously to stimulate them. This is something the dam normally does by licking them to encourage circulation and independent breathing. All the puppies were a good size but it proved difficult to wake up the bigger boy. Charlotte was starting to think that he was not for this world when all of a sudden he hiccoughed and took his first breath, so he is very special to her. She almost felt she had brought him back from the dead - we suggested she call him Lazarus.

We had thought another bitch would be easier to integrate than a dog. The bitch puppy had been reserved by someone who had been longing for another pup from Stormy for nearly four years and so we accepted that we would not be adding a puppy in the near future. In conversation with Charlotte she reiterated something we had heard from other owners and breeders. If two bitches fight they will never settle their differences and cohabit happily. Indeed, before we had her this happened with our first Labrador and her mother and they could never be left alone together. When two dogs fight - unless it's in close proximity to an in-season bitch which both are trying to mate - they can learn to cooperate with each other, accepting their positions within the hierarchy. Buddy and Frodo have never fought with each other - they grumble at each other occasionally but Frodo knows his place and would never assert himself although he's bigger and stronger than Buddy.

In short, we have made a space in our home for a special puppy, Jenna's half-brother whom we have named Gus. Charlotte and Ali like to know what the puppies are to be called so that they can accustom them to their names. All is excitement here and we look forward to more photographs from Charlotte charting Gus's growth and development. All three puppies are feeding well - there's never a struggle to find a place at the milk bar and they will all have had a hefty dose of colostrum.

ABC Wednesday Round 5 H Hats

As the warm protective covering of HAIR on HIS HEAD diminishes, Barry favours HATS.Not all the HEADGEAR is HIS. There is a school HAT in the HEAP from the HALCYON days of Bethan's primary school.

When cycling he wears a HELMET to save his HEAD from HARM He was never HIRSUTE - he is not an HAIRY man like 'my brother Esau.'

Thank you to Mrs Nesbitt for hosting this enjoyable meme.

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Barry’s rant about innumeracy (1)

I am astounded by the lack of numeracy shown by some BBC presenters who consequently fail properly to address news and current events. A recent example was 'Any Answers?' on 5^th September; Jonathan Dimbleby responded to a caller about the advisability of vast expenditure on British rail. The caller stated that the French had observed that travel on the railway network in France averaged 20 miles per gallon per person. This interesting point posed serious questions about carbon emission. Mr Dimbleby countered with astonishing innumeracy. He asserted that trains would be running at 1000 gallons per mile! According to him, at 20 miles per gallon per passenger there must be an average of 20000 people per train.

According to the Association of Train Operating Companies UK passenger trains have 35% occupancy. Mr Dimbleby's figures imply each train has an average capacity of 57000 passengers. Larger trains would be able to carry more. Sounds like our railways are doing just fine!

Captured in the garden . . .

While I was tidying up in the front garden yesterday I came across this pretty snail. It is about ¾" (2 cms) across and was resting on a limestone rock before I so rudely disturbed it.

I've always rather liked snails – to look at, that is. I like the way they can tuck themselves into their shells to ride out many dangers though not the thrush or blackbird's assault. I like the way they emerge cautiously, one horn at a time, to peer around myopically, (I don't know if they really are short-sighted) and then proceed smoothly on their endless journeys. I like the way I can pick them up between thumb and forefinger. I like the way they come out to relish the rain-drenched ground and foliage which seem to assist their slippery advance. They fascinate me.
This particular specimen is the White-lipped snail (Cepaea hortensis). There are great variations in the colour and patterning of these snails – indeed some are completely yellow with no banding at all. They are hermaphrodite, having both male and female reproductive organs but mate to exchange sperm. When the eggs are ready to hatch, one month after they have been laid, tiny snails emerge complete with shells. Unlike snakes, which slough off their skins to accommodate their growth, snails retain their shells adding calcium carbonate to the edge of the shell. When they are fully grown they begin reproducing.

I found this rather haunting Australian Aborigine poem in a book of children's poetry:

SNAILS
Sound of snails – crying,
Sound drifting through the brush, sound of crying.
Slime of snails, dragging themselves
Along the low-lying plain, crying;
Snails with their slime, crying.
Sound drifting through the bush: dragging themselves along, crying,
Snails, their sound blowing overhead from among the bushes.

It's an extraordinary thought that these indigenous Australian people might imagine the pain and sorrow of such a lowly creature. What was their relationship with snails? They lived off the land but I have found no reference to them eating snails though surely they must have done since anything that wasn't poisonous was a source of sustenance.

When I looked later I could find no trace of the snail we had photographed but this morning I saw a much smaller one, marked in exactly the same way – a perfect miniature replica.

Pet Pride - laptops, car maintenance and kitchen duties

Today Monty decided to see what this blogging lark's about. Winston's obviously been talking to him.


Winston was a little surprised. 'What are you doing here, Monty?' he asked.

'Just looking,' replied Monty.

'Oh, okay,' said Winston.

'Nothing much going on here - I'm off,' said Monty.

Later on Monty was in the garage undertaking a little motor maintenance. He had the bonnet up on my car and was studying the engine. He soon realised it was much too complicated for him as he needed lots of electronic gizmos to effect any servicing so shook his head and sauntered off.

Meanwhile Frodo was on kitchen duty. As you can see he takes this particular job very seriously standing stock still and allowing nothing to distract him. What was he guarding so conscientiously?

Ah yes - the pans on the hob. This must have been quite exciting for him as pans containing food are usually put away well out of his reach. He is so concerned that the food should not disappear that eventually he decides the only safe place for any food is inside him where no-one - and particularly no cats or other dogs - can get at it.

Thank you to Bozo and his human for organising and hosting this meme.

To see more pets to be proud of please click here or on the logo.

Shadow Shot Sunday #68 Cobnuts

In our front garden we have Kentish cobs and a corkscrew hazel (Corylus avellanus 'Contorta') - the squirrels love them and plant them all over the place so we have MANY saplings.

Thank you to Tracy at 'Hey Harriet' for hosting this meme.

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Camera Critters #74 Cousins reunited

My Camera Critters this week are all two-legged humans.
Our son and daughter-in-law returned to the UK on Bank Holiday Monday after two years living and working in New York City. Just after Susannah and I visited them last September Lehman Brothers collapsed and as Gareth was employed by them he thought he might be leaving sooner than planned. He wasn't a trader but worked in IT and fortunately Barclays took over the section for which he worked. So now he's back in Canary Wharf.
Gillian's and Gareth's children were together again for the first time in two years. There was great excitement - they had spoken to each other on Skype but nothing beats seeing each other in the flesh.
Getting a 'team photograph' proved tricky. Two years on they are all physically bigger and were very squashed on the three-seater sofa. Apart from that Gareth's children were tired having come in on the 'red eye'. This is the most satisfactory shot we got - from left to right, Eve, 8, Marnie, 15, Callum, 11, Kiri, 14, Elliot 10, Louis, 6. Eve, Elliot and Louis are Gareth and Nina's children. Marnie, Kiri and Callum belong to Gillian and Paul.

Marnie is exceptionally mature and capable. Recently she volunteered to stay with her 92-year-old great-grandmother, Barry's mother, who had fallen and broken her arm. It was not an easy task but Marnie performed cheerfully and without complaint and stayed until we insisted she came home. She is very good with young children, just like her mother, and manages to have fun with them without spoiling them.
Thank you to Misty Dawn and Tammy for hosting this meme.
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Charlottes

It feels autumnal today. The sun that was shining so cheerfully this morning has slouched off leaving grey skies and biting winds behind. It's a good day for staying in and being domestic - an adjective that sits uneasily on me. I would be houseproud if I weren't so idle - and didn't have a husband and dogs and cats who track mud and dust throughout the house. Our wooden floors are decorated with swirls of fur - dust bunnies? - which are swept up every day and reappear almost immediately.
I digress. Being domestic(ated) today means pickling onions, collecting nasturtium seeds for poor man's capers, making chocolate tiffin, carving the bacon I cured last week and baking bread. Sounds impressive - to me anyway. The reality is that I will start the pickling process (probably), bake the bread (definitely - that's what the bread-maker is for), carve the bacon (possibly - it will probably be inedible since I have never attempted to cure bacon before and also had to adjust the recipe because, as usual, I leapt into the process without checking I had the necessary ingredients), gather the seeds (perhaps), make the tiffin (doubtful - the dark chocolate I bought for the purpose has been broken into and not by me for a change so I'm not sure I'll have enough - and even if I have I may not feel like bothering!) This is one of my favourite books - it contains a wealth of knowledge as well as traditional regional recipes

I remember my parents pickling onions when I was a child - it seemed a very long-drawn-out procedure, as I suppose most things of that nature appear to children, and one I didn't attempt until a couple of years ago. I forget why I decided to try my hand at it but I found a simple recipe and everyone enthused about the end result so I felt quite buoyed up by the experience. Shallots stripped of extraneous 'paper'

Shallots in my preserving pan

Shallots in brine

A plate on top of the shallots keeps them submerged in the brine. They will remain in the pan for 12 hours after which they are drained and scalded in boiling water for 1 minute. Then they are 'topped and tailed' and soaked in a second brine for 24 hours.After being thoroughly drained they are decanted into jars or bottles and covered with cold spiced vinegar. The recommendation is to leave them for 6 to 8 weeks to mature - that doesn't usually happen in this house! We all love pickled onions and Susannah and Kiri - aunt and niece - can consume a (small) jar each at one sitting. The taste for vinegar is genetic, granted to us by my father and Barry's grandfather who happened to be instructors in the same Royal Naval diving school at the same time - maybe it was the salt they absorbed that developed the taste!

Any onion can be pickled but I like to use shallots which are related to onions and are milder and sweeter.
In our family we call them 'Charlottes' for that is the way Barry first pronounced their name when he was a child.

SkyWatch Friday Season 4 - Episode 8 - sailing

(sings)
'While we go sailing, sailing over the ocean blue
We're sailors thro'and thro'
The best you ever knew'


I like the sea and boats - to look at! - so it's fortunate for my husband that our children and grandchildren all love sailing and are happy to sail day or night, summer or winter. In fact Barry has become more cautious with the passing years (he once set sail in March in snowstorms when our eldest daughter was three weeks old - I briefly thought she was destined to be the only child of a young widow!!) and this summer's dreadfully strong winds, lashing rain and unpredictable gusts have put paid to his sailing plans. Yesterday it was blowing Force 10 in the Solent. The winds in Berkshire are very strong and we're about as far from the coast as anyone in the UK could be. However, he and some of the family managed a couple of days in August when the weather was cooperative - even then the wind was gusting Force 6/7. So, my SkyWatch offerings have a salty flavour this week.

Barry at the helm - lacking a thick thatch he now wears a hat all the time he's outside and oftentimes indoors too as he frequently bangs his head while rushing about the place.

Callum's eyes are as blue as the sky, just like his mother's and two sisters'.

Sunset in Southampton Water, August 2009

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There’ll always be an England . . . ?

From The Queen's Royal Lancers Website: Forever England

Goodbye to my England, So long my old friend
Your days are numbered, being brought to an end
To be Scottish, Irish or Welsh that's fine
But don't say you're English, that's way out of line.

The French and the Germans may call themselves such
So may Norwegians, the Swedes and the Dutch
You can say you are Russian or maybe a Dane
But don't say you're English ever again.

At Broadcasting House the word is taboo
In Brussels it's scrapped, in Parliament too
Even schools are affected, staff do as they're told
They must not teach children about England of old.

Writers like Shakespeare, Milton and Shaw
The pupils don't learn about them anymore
How about Agincourt, Hastings, Arnhem or Mons?
When England lost hosts of her very brave sons…

We are not Europeans, how can we be?
Europe is miles away over the sea
We're the English from England, let's all be proud
Stand up and be counted - Shout it out loud!

Let's tell our Government and Brussels too
We're proud of our heritage and the Red, White and Blue
Fly the flag of Saint George or the Union Jack
Let the world know - WE WANT OUR ENGLAND BACK !

Barry received this in an email yesterday and while it made both of us smile it gave us pause for thought. What has happened to our English identity? It's true that we don't have an identifying costume like the Scots, Irish and Welsh (or the Dutch, French, Swiss, Native Americans, Maasai).
So, on England's national day, we don't see colourful national dress because we haven't got one. We could all dress as Morris men, I suppose, or don bowler hat, striped trousers and carry a brolly or impersonate red-headed Elizabeth I or Boudicca (formerly known as Boadicea)
Our patron saint is St George and his day is April 23^rd, the day of his death and also the date of death of William Shakespeare. We don't celebrate St George's Day, though it is a provincial government holiday in Newfoundland, and the people of Albania and Kosovo observe it with rituals and religious services. In fact we don't seem to celebrate our Englishness much at all. The greatest regular outflowings of national pride are to be seen – and heard - at the Last Night of the Proms or at cricket matches when the Barmy Army comes into its own.
England's sense of nation is slowly disappearing, I fear, and now we are no longer able to answer 'English' in the boxes on forms that ask for nationality it can only be a matter of time before England becomes a country of the past. In many senses it already is – we have an archaic legal system, little or no manufacturing industry, an anachronistic Royal Family, we have exported our expertise and allowed it to be developed by other nations. I like being British but I also want to proclaim my Englishness. Great Britain comprises four nations but now only three of them can tick a box to demonstrate their clan. I want my grandchildren to be able to say that they are English as well as British and to acknowledge their German and Asian roots too.

The art of photography - again!

This photograph of my maternal grandmother was taken around 1904 in Southsea, Hampshire. I believe she worked as a cook in a 'big house' before her marriage. After marriage women were not expected to work outside the home. I never met her for she died in hospital in great pain of stomach cancer when relatively young. The doctors told my mother that they could not increase the morphine dosage as it would kill her! In those days, the late twenties/early thirties, doctors adhered strictly and not always humanely to the Hippocratic oath. After her death my maternal grandfather, a policeman, went to live with my parents and their young daughter, my sister Beryl.
Here are my mother and her parentsin 1904. She had two older brothers and I wonder why it was not a family portrait? Perhaps they were more expensive. My mother and the younger of her brothers were very close. Indeed, when my father sailed away on a three-year commission in the Royal Navy when Beryl was three weeks old, many people assumed Charlie was my mother's husband as they were so often together with the little girl. It must have been confusing for my father's name was Charles too, though my mother always called him Charles or Char.
My mother said that her parents were strict but never unkind; it was not quite a case of being seen but not heard but they were certainly expected not to talk at meal-times.

ABC Wednesday Round 5 G - Gareth and Gillian

G is for Gareth and Gillian - then (1972) . . .

. . . and now . . .



Thank you to Mrs Nesbitt for introducing and hosting this meme.
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The first day of Autumn 2009

Yesterday, August 31st, was the last Bank Holiday the UK will enjoy until December 25th, Christmas Day. (Scotland's last one was on August 3rd.) Though many people consider that Autumn has arrived, naturally enough when the Autumn school term is about to start or has already commenced, in my mind at least it is still Summer. Yesterday was a warm, sunny, beautiful day and this morning dawned bright and breezy.
Spiders are usually an indication that the season is changing as they come inside in droves but they have been in residence all this year. I know they keep the bugs down and they also amuse the cats and dogs, occasionally nipping their inquisitive noses. This does not dissuade the cats from consuming them - in fact, it probably makes them more determined. The dogs merely flatten them.
I am not a fan of spiders - a fact I repeat ad nauseam - though I appreciate their role in the greater order of things, but an increasing interest in photography has encouraged me to look more closely at them. I admire the efficiency of their design and the intricacy of their webs though too long spent studying them makes me itch.
On my way into the garden this morning I noticed a reddish-brown spider on the galvanised wire mesh panel that slots into the patio door groove (we have this so that small people, dogs and cats are safely contained while fresh air is free to enter) The mesh is 2" x 2" (50mm x 50mm) and the spider was about 0.6" (10mm) and actually rather pretty though the close-ups made me reconsider that opinion. Such a tiny creature, so beautifully constructed, so busy! It seemed to be attempting to build a web, though the constant opening and closing of the patio door must have disturbed it somewhat. He looks as though he's about to pounce - or perhaps he's practising his conducting gestures for the Proms


This is his underside - he looks a little embarrassed or is he simply 'hanging loose'?

I later identified it as a male Garden spider, Araneus quadratus, which is only slightly less common than its extremely common and widespread near relation Araneus diadematus. Males are smaller than females. There are some stunning photographs here. In our front garden we have two Kentish cob trees, brought to Berkshire when my parents moved here from Kent thirty years ago. They produce many cobnuts which are particularly relished by the squirrels - they have expensive tastes as cobs bought from Waitrose are currently £3.99 per kg. As squirrels are inveterate gardeners we have many saplings from the cobs and also from our corkscrew hazel, Corylus avellanus 'Contorta' - this used to be known as 'Harry Lauder's walking stick' as the singer and entertainer Harry Lauder (1870 - 1950) carried a crooked stick for every performance.

While photographing the cobs I noticed, as I do every year, and marvelled at the tight little catkins that will herald Spring in a few months' time, dancing in the breeze before the leaves unfurl. To paraphrase Shelley, 'If Autumn comes, can Spring be far behind?

Meanwhile the day that started so promisingly has commenced its downturn - the wind is strengthening, the temperature is dropping, splendid clouds have massed and are now emptying their contents vigorously on our sodden ground.