Feed me!

Feed me!

May brings an explosion in the garden. Everything burgeons and each day offers fresh delights. The month becomes increasingly noisy as young birds demand that their parents feed them. The parents are on the go from just before break of day until the last vestiges of light have left the sky - they are being worn ragged by their demanding offspring. Feeding several bottomless pits is exhausting and some of the adults are beginning to look rather unkempt, their usually pin neat plumage dishevelled. There is little time to preen when there are so many mouths to feed.

It was flirting my tail like this that got me into trouble in the first place.

Me too!

I'm exhausted - no time some days even to  run a comb through my feathers . . .

. . . but at least my babies say 'Please' and 'Thank you', unlike those rude starling youngsters.

Feed me!

FEED me!!

FEED ME!!!

Say Please . . .

Feed me PLEASE - I'm starving. I'm a starving starling . . .

That's better, dear - now don't gobble.

We have seen blackbirds, goldfinches, nuthatches, coal tits, magpies, blue tits, great tits, greater spotted woodpeckers, wood pigeons, robins and a chaffinch at the feeders.  It’s very unusual to see a chaffinch – they prefer to feed on the ground. The long-tailed tits are noticeable by their absence – no doubt they’ll be along later for they must have young too. The jackdaws have been back to take food from the bird table and the local crows are vigilant and noisy when a red kite soars above their nests, looking for an easy meal.

My youngsters are hungry, too . . .

 . . . and mine  . . .

. . . mine, too . . .

Look right.

Look left.

All clear? Tuck in.

I wait till it's quiet.

Our most conspicuous visitors are the starlings. A few days ago we saw only three or four young birds but in the last couple of days the numbers have proliferated. Yesterday Barry counted forty starlings perched on the arches. They chatter and shriek from early morning until dusk. They enjoy communal feeding on the pergolas and communal bathing in the pond. Watching the harassed adults it’s difficult to ascertain whether the parents feeds their own young or whether they respond to all gaping beaks – I suspect the latter. 

Wood pigeons need food, too. Some chance with all those starlings.

I watched the plump, cheeky starling babies as they alternately preened vigorously and called vociferously. One of them was paying more attention to his plumage than his safety. Good grooming is essential for a bird but he wasn’t looking about as frequently as he should, as, indeed, the adults do. I feared for his welfare. I knew a sparrowhawk would appear on the scene sooner or later and today was the day. He swooped down from the roof and carried off a screaming youngster. Barry was startled when he walked along the garden path a few minutes later to see the sparrowhawk on the ground preparing his feast. We may deplore the depredations of the sparrowhawks but they have young to feed, too.

                         A few soft feathers are all that's left to commemorate a brief existence.

Another inspired bit of lunacy . . .

Another inspired bit of lunacy . . .

Following Chelsea’s win against Bayern Munich on Saturday came this claim from Robin Cooper, creator of ‘The Timewaster Letters’ and ‘The Timewaster Diaries.’ 


Robin Cooper is the alter ego of Robert Popper, creator and writer of ‘Friday Night Dinner’ and co-creator and writer with Peter Serafinowicz of ‘Look Around You.’  

The animated Bayeux Tapestry or 1066 and all that . . .

The animated Bayeux Tapestry or 1066 and all that . . .

This was a student project created by David Newton at Goldsmiths College with music and sound effects created by Marc Sylvan.

It certainly brings the tapestry to life! 

Where have I been?

Where have I been? Nowhere – just the usual round of dog walks, spotting kestrels and kites and deer and Bill and Beatrice Crow, of which more anon.

What have I been doing? My youngest daughter is getting married in July and I decided to make a wedding ring cushion. My preferred format was cross stitch but I couldn’t find a design I really liked. Then I saw a Hardanger project which really appealed. The only problem was that I had never attempted Hardanger before though I had made some drawn thread napkins many years ago. Could it be so very different?

I bought a ‘Teach Yourself Hardanger Embroidery’ book and plunged in. Therein lies the problem – I am too hasty. Anxious to start and worried that I might not finish the task in time I began. I have always had a problem with tension - oh, the headaches, the worry!! – no, not that sort of tension. My knitting is too tight to move on the needles, my crochet stitches are impossibly taut, my cross-stitch buckles the fabric, hand-sewn seams are wrinkled. I was determined not to make that mistake and went rather to the other extreme. Kloster blocks are meant to retain the fabric when the material they surround is cut away and I was concerned that they might not.

I was working on Zweigart 28 Count Quaker cloth – that’s 28 hpi (holes per inch) – and the design was to be worked over two holes. I was pleasantly surprised at the speed with which the work progressed, then found I was one thread out and had to unstitch. It wouldn’t have mattered if it had not been a symmetrical pattern, but it was and it did – matter, that is. Eventually I finished the four hearts. By now the pearl thread had lost some of its lustre and was looking rather woolly in places where it had been worked and unworked and worked again. Undeterred I carried on.

From time to time I referred to my ‘Teach Yourself’ book to reassure myself that I was doing the right thing. ‘Remember the number four’ was burnt into my brain – that is, work over four fabric threads and leave four fabric threads between blocks. It wasn’t until I was anticipating the next stage of the work that I read that Kloster blocks usually comprise five satin stitches worked over four threads. Heart sinking, I looked more closely at the chart – yes, there were five lines indicating five stitches in each block. I considered rejigging the whole thing, adjusting everything to accommodate my mistake - too difficult! I then thought about unstitching the whole piece – the pearl cotton would look decidedly more like angora wool. Finally, I concluded that I must treat the piece I had been working on as my practice piece and started again. This time I read carefully to ensure that nothing else would go amiss and that I was doing the right thing in the right place.

Before the cutting . . . I was tempted to leave it like this.

A practice heart, cut out and miraculously not falling to pieces.

Eventually, I finished the cushion. I hope I’m the only one who will recognise the many faults in it, though I expect I shall point them out, just as my mother always drew attention to her (very minor) mistakes,  but I enjoyed doing it. It doesn’t matter if Bethan and Robert decide they don’t want to use it and even if they do the little boy who holds it, (Robert’s nephew) will no doubt drop it or stand on it or wipe his nose on it – once I’ve given it to them it’s theirs to do with as they please.

The finished article 

Like a dog with two tails?

Like a dog with two tails?

Bertie was very excited to receive two new toys this morning.

He picked up both of them, hoping Gus would chase him. 

Gus was only too happy to oblige and soon they were playing with just one. 

April A-Z blogging challenge 2012 Z is for Zest

April A-Z blogging challenge 2012

Z is the ultimate letter in this sequence of 26 short stories of 250 words or fewer. This final story is just a little longer – 385 words. All the stories are about the life and times of a fictional character called Alice.

Z is forZest

Alice shepherded everyone into the sitting room. It was a tight squeeze but everyone found a seat. The granddaughters sat on the floor while their babies and toddlers played around them.

The last time the whole family had gathered was for Norman’s funeral three years previously. Alice’s 85^th birthday made a good excuse to meet under happier circumstances. Emily and her family had travelled from Paris the previous day. Alice didn’t see them very often though she did occasionally travel by Eurostar to visit them. Rebecca’s children lived in and around London and she  saw them more frequently, though they were very busy – no-one could live in London and not be busy, she thought. It was Ted’s family she saw most – they all lived nearby – and of course, Ruth was a regular visitor.

While Alice played with her great-grandchildren her daughters organised tea. Afterwards she unwrapped a mound of gaily-wrapped gifts and was touched by the thought that had gone into them – National Trust membership, a subscription to a favourite magazine, gardening and book tokens, a large print of one of her favourite photographs, a voucher for a spa day. Then Rebecca’s husband gave her a DVD and urged her to play it for all of them. He had compiled it from family photographs and video recordings and set it to music.

Alice’s life unfolded before her. Monochrome gave way to colour and she thought that was a fine allegory for life. There were her parents and her three strong brothers. What fine young men they had been. Here was Norman, smiling into the camera, looking ridiculously young and so proud on their wedding day. She watched her babies grow into toddlers and then into young adults with babies of their own. The final photograph was of all her children, grandchildren and great-grandchildren, including the youngest, four-month-old Rosie.

Everyone clapped and cheered and Ted produced a bottle of champagne with a reassurance that there were another two in the fridge so there would be plenty for everybody. They drank Alice’s health and commended her zest for life. She nodded and smiled, quite overcome.

Later, after everyone had left, Alice watched her DVD again, pausing it now and then to study an image more closely. ‘What a wonderful gift,’ she thought. ‘Photographs hold the greatest memories.’

April A-Z blogging challenge 2012 Y is for Yarn

April A-Z blogging challenge 2012

Y is the penultimate letter in this sequence of 26 short stories of 250 words or fewer. All the stories are about the life and times of a fictional character called Alice.

Y is forYarn

Through all the years of their marriage Norman was always able to make Alice laugh. He had a sense of the ridiculous and one of the things Alice loved about him was his ability to spin a yarn. He could elaborate on the most mundane event until his audience was laughing so hard they were gasping for breath. It didn’t matter to her that she had heard his stories many times before. A large part of her enjoyment was seeing the pleasure they brought to others. A shared sense of humour was one of the most important things in any relationship, she thought.

She considered her children. Ted had a pronounced sense of fun. He stopped short of practical jokes and she was grateful for that. It always seemed a cruel kind of humour that made people anxious or embarrassed them.

Rebecca shared Norman’s aptitude for story-telling and revelled in her daughters’ antics. She was quite as skilled as he at holding her listeners’ attention.

Emily, Alice’s youngest child, was quieter than her siblings, more introspective. She often said she couldn’t tell a joke to save her life and it was true – she always forgot the punch line – but she loved puns and witty repartee.  Alice supposed Emily was more like her than Norman, though Alice never claimed to be witty.

Alice was pleased that each of them had partners with whom they could share laughter. Laughter, as well as love, made the world go round.

April A-Z blogging challenge X is for X-ray

April A-Z blogging challenge 2012

X is the next letter for stories in this sequence of 26 short stories of 250 words or fewer. All the stories are about the life and times of a fictional character called Alice.

X is for X-ray

Alice had never broken more than a fingernail. The day she slipped in the kitchen she lay on the floor, gazing at the ceiling and wondering if it would be advisable to try and get up. Her elbow hurt but she thought everything else was in working order.

Norman called out, ‘Is tea ready?’ and Alice grimaced as she replied, ‘Not quite. I’m a bit incapacitated at the moment.’

Norman came to investigate. As soon as he saw her he said, ‘I’ll call an ambulance.’ Alice told him not to be silly but despite her protests he insisted she should at least have her arm x-rayed. He drove her to the hospital where she joined a waiting room full of patients in varying states of medical distress.

It was an opportunity to see Joe Public at his most vulnerable. A young mother nursed a small baby and comforted her little girl who was whimpering in pain. An older boy with a face as pale as his sports kit held his arm protectively against his body and tried to joke with his pals. A man in workman’s dusty overalls sat stoically staring ahead out of the eye that wasn’t covered with a bandage. Ambulance men carried in a still form on a stretcher.  Alice shivered, feeling she was there under false pretences.

After several hours her arm was x-rayed; as she expected, it wasn’t fractured. She returned home, exhausted. She realised afresh how fortunate she was. A bruised arm was nothing.

April A-Z blogging challenge 2012 W is for Wisdom

April A-Z blogging challenge 2012

The next story in this sequence of short stories of 250 words or fewer starts with W. All the stories are about the life and times of a fictional character called Alice.

W is for Wisdom

For most of her life Alice felt like a child, learning from other people. Even as a grandmother she doubted her competence to offer advice. Everyone around her seemed so knowledgeable and younger people were the most intimidating. She wondered if she would ever feel sensible and mature.

One Christmas a few years after Ivy’s death, she and Norman were staying with Rebecca. They overheard their son.

‘Mum was the one I took my troubles to. She listened, really listened, and she always knew what to do. When I was growing up she was the only person I could talk to and she was never shocked by anything I said.’

Then came Rebecca’s voice. ‘Mum’s a great listener, very wise. She won’t give advice unless she’s asked and even then she makes it sound as though you’ve found the answer for yourself. I wish I could be like her.’

Alice felt her ears burning and a flush suffusing her face. Could they really be talking about her? Was that all wisdom was? Listening and advising when you’re asked? She knew it must involve more than that – experience, of course, the sum of little things. She felt ridiculously happy and suddenly quite grown-up.

Norman squeezed her hand and whispered, ‘You’re my very own Wise Woman. You cast your spell on me the first time we met.’

Alice snorted. ‘You make me sound like a witch,’ she said.

‘Oh, yes, that’s what I meant,’ said Norman and winked.

April A-Z blogging challenge 2012 V is for Violets

April A-Z blogging challenge 2012

The next story in this sequence of short stories of 250 words or fewer starts with V. All the stories are about the life and times of a fictional character called Alice.

V is forViolets

Alice’s favourite flowers were violets, quiet, unassuming little plants that returned faithfully year after year. They had spread in her garden until they carpeted the grass under the trees, a perfect purplish-blue gift for tired eyes.

Alice was often weary. Ivy had broken her hip shortly after her 90^th birthday and her recovery had been protracted.  She was scared of further falls and less independent and so needed constant companionship. Ruth kept her company at night but was still working so Alice volunteered to stay with her mother during the day. Ivy had a limited range of repetitive conversation, preferring to revisit well-worn topics rather than take an interest in current affairs. Alice found it hard to maintain a dialogue.

Gradually, Ivy’s character changed. She began to treat Alice like a servant, giving her orders and complaining in querulous tones. Dismayed, Alice realised that it was almost impossible to recognise her mother. Ruth was finding her difficult, too. When she started throwing things at them they realised they could no longer cope and found a care home for her where sympathetic staff looked after her and calmed her as best they could.

Alice and Ruth visited her regularly but soon she didn’t know them and was confused by their presence. There were brief moments of clarity when she asked after Daniel.

Ivy died in 1990, aged 93. Alice grieved but was also relieved. Her mother’s last two years had been filled with bewilderment and distress. Finally she was at peace.

April A-Z blogging challenge 2012 U is for Umpteen

April A-Z blogging challenge 2012

The next story in this sequence of short stories of 250 words or fewer starts with U. All the stories are about the life and times of a fictional character called Alice.


Oops! My chronology went a bit wrong!! Emily is married the year of Ivy's birthday and has four small children immediately . . . Ted's twins, born the same year, have mysteriously had babies themselves . . . oh dear - and it was all going so well;-)

U is for Umpteen

Ivy’s 90^th birthday was an excuse for a family get-together. Their house was too small to accommodate everyone so Alice and Norman booked a hotel and reserved rooms for all the family.

Ivy thought she was going out for lunch and then to a matinee so when she walked into the hotel restaurant and saw her entire family clapping and smiling she was speechless. Lunch ensued with much laughter and chatter. Ivy was delighted to see Emily with her four small grandchildren, three girls and a baby boy. She didn’t see her or her family very often as she lived in France. The little girls spoke French to her and she spoke English to them and they all got along splendidly.

After lunch the head chef brought Ivy a beautiful cake decorated with fresh flowers. He helped her cut the cake and complimented her on her beautiful family.  

‘You have so many daughters and granddaughters,’ he said.

‘Granddaughters and great-granddaughters,’ she corrected with a smile. ‘Umpteen of them.’

She sat with Alice and Ruth and her older granddaughters and their babies and watched as the younger cousins played together. She noted the similarities between them as well as the differences and recognised gestures that reminded her of John or Charles. The newest baby boy, just a few months old, resembled Daniel. She sighed. Poor Daniel.

‘Enough of that,’ she scolded herself. ‘You are a very lucky woman.’

She turned to Alice. ‘Thank you so much,’ she said. ‘This is perfect.’

April A-Z blogging challenge 2012 T is for Tempus Fugit

April A-Z blogging challenge 2012

The next story in this sequence of 26 short stories of 250 words or fewer about the life and times of a fictional character called Alice brings us to T.

T is for Tempus Fugit

No sooner had Alice and Norman accepted the responsibilities of parenthood than their children were transformed into adults or so it seemed. The traumas of childhood and adolescence and the hurdles of examinations and first job interviews had been conquered. Norman and Alice considered their children as friends. She knew how fortunate they were. Some of their friends were estranged from their children.

Ivy was 89 and still living in her own home. A few years previously she suggested Ruth move in with her. They each worried about the other so it was to their mutual benefit they should live together. Ruth had trained as a nurse and was a practice nurse at the local surgery. Returning to her empty house each day had become burdensome. Now she went home to Ivy’s cooking and warm companionship. It was most satisfactory.

Emily’s 21^st birthday in October was cause for celebration and she chose the occasion to announce her engagement. She planned to marry her French fiancé the following year and they would be starting their married life in Paris. Everyone cheered.

There was a further announcement. Ted said, ‘I don’t want to hog my little sister’s special day but I thought you’d like to know we’re expecting twins next March.’

There was general uproar and much kissing and hugging. Ivy said, ‘I’ll have to look out my crochet patterns.’

Alice smiled at Norman. ‘We’ve only been parents for what feels like five minutes. Now we’re going to be grandparents. Time flies.’

April A-Z blogging challenge 2012 S is for Silver

April A-Z blogging challenge 2012

S is the next letter in this sequence 26 short stories - 250 words or fewer- about the life and times of a fictional character called Alice.

S is forSilver

Alice and Norman had a garden party to celebrate their Silver Wedding anniversary in 1981. It’s always a gamble organising an outdoor event in England but August that year was mostly warm and dry and the day of the party dawned bright and clear.

Alice watched Norman as he chatted with their guests. His hair was greying and receding at the temples and his laughter lines were deepening but he was still a good-looking man. Alice had discovered silver in her hair, too, but her hairdresser disguised it.

She looked at her children, young adults now. Edward John, more usually called Ted these days, was studying medicine and intended to marry once he had qualified.  Rebecca was a journalist on the local paper and hoped to make a career in the national dailies one day. Emily, sweet sixteen, was considering teaching as a profession.  

Alice breathed in the jasmine-scented air and smiled. She was so fortunate.

Her mother hadn’t been so lucky. She had lost all three sons. Though Daniel still lived his mind had wandered far away. John had died fourteen years ago and Ivy was lonely. Norman had offered to build a ‘granny annexe’ so she could live with them but she had declined - she valued her independence. Ruth spent a lot of time with her but Alice wondered if that was always helpful. They had both loved Daniel and grieved for him. Raking over the past didn’t help either of them, visiting Daniel even less so.