312 Rows

According to a snippet I came across in The Guardian, the average couple has 312 rows a year which seems an awful lot. I wonder if Nellybert are an average couple? I thought it might be interesting to keep a record of our rows. I'll start with the one we had yesterday morning. To tell the truth I was too busy to memorise the finer details as I was organising cleaning and cooking for a wee poker do we were having that night. Anyway, I forget what it was about exactly and it was more of a verbal skirmish than a row. I do remember that Bert graciously capitulated so I must have won that one.

So if we're to have 312 rows then there must be more than 53 days when we don't have one and this might, I hope be one of those days.

Two of our guests last night had a mini-row on the drive over. It was about driving. Each believes that the other is a terrible driver and that they are much superior. She is prepared to take the Advanced Driver's Test to prove her point but he is not. He thinks that the amount of little bumps and accidents she has had proves his point. We did not take a stance on it but privately I thought if she's the one drivin' and he's the one drinkin' he should STFU. I know Bert would.

Dogs in Snow

Dogs in Snow, originally uploaded by KatyKatkins.

Yay! Thanks Katy - best our dogs in snow photograph ever.

The Marthas

The Marthas, originally uploaded by triciamorimori.

Drumkeeran

Lay of the land 1, originally uploaded by triciamorimori.

One of a series of pictures of home that the Kerry Sister took. She makes better use of that camera than I ever did!

The Good Life

Out two days running! I can hardly believe it! I am exhausted. The party on Saturday night was good. I met some new people. I behaved myself.

Then we had lunch with two old friends yesterday. The craic was, as they say, mighty. We hatched up some wonderful plans, ate some great food and drank some delicious rhubarb wine. And drank some delicious rhubarb wine. And, yet again, had more delicious rhubarb wine. I did not behave myself.

I have to confess that I spilled a lot of it in my lap as the evening wore down and that later on I admired the stars from a vantage point. That place being the broad of my back in our yard.

Oh we did hatch plans over the wine. If only a quarter of them should come to fruition there will be some changes around here. And more rhubarb. Lots more rhubarb.

Going Out

Nellybert are going out and Nelly, for one, is all dressed up!

I am wearing the high-heeled shoes I bought in TK Maxx, the black fitted dress I bought in Asda (only £9), the lilac and cream cardigan that Kerry Niece said I had to have from Mexx and the Pandora bracelet that Katy bought me for my birthday with charms from Katy, Bert and Matty. And I am wearing purple tights. For I am getting on a bit. Therefore I must wear purple.

A Return to Farfrae's Erection

It is a sure fact that your beloved Nelly has a rather puerile view of the world. Some might even call it twisted. But it really does give me pleasure that the Google search term 'Farfrae's Erection' has this blog in first and second place. Yay! Result! Nelly Moser takes the fore road of Thomas Hardy. I wonder if I can do the same with Shakespeare? Although that might be setting the bar a bit high.

The Headmaster was asking me the other day how to get a look at the oul' blog. I told him all he had to do was search for 'Nelly's Garden' in Google. I had to warn him to avoid any blog that had the words 'milk' or 'boys' in it as any resulting website would be highly undesirable for a man in his position to be looking at.

So, Headmaster, if you're reading this I advise you to search for 'Farfrae's Erection' instead. Much safer.

And of course this post will ensure that I stay in the top couple of places for a while longer anyway. So sorry Mr Thomas Hardy, your books are great and all, but when it comes to Google ratings it's carnage out there.

The Troubles We've Seen

Poor Ganching has been having a rotten week. It just goes to prove that good people don't get their just deservings for she has been more than good this past year in giving up so much of her time travelling back and forth to help out with Matty. She's not the only one. All my sisters have travelled regularly from London, from Kerry and from Leitrim to help keep Matty at home. My brother in Canada has been over twice this year.

Matty is stable but not nearly as well as she was. She still gets up every day and eats fairly well and, this is a real blessing, she keeps her wits about her still. Her main trouble is that she is very tired and weak. This affects her mobility and she cannot get around very easily. Despite these troubles she stays in reasonably good form.

So that is that. For now.

A Night In Front Of The Telly

Tonight I sat myself down in front of the television and prepared myself to be entertained and, to a certain extent, shocked. And I was. First I watched the 'Big Fat Gypsy Wedding' thing and I was horrified at that poor child galumphing to her First Communion in a pink meringue of a dress that, we were told, weighed twice as much as she did. I'd like to have seen Father Davey or Cassie O'Neill's faces if any child had appeared at the altar rails wearing that contraption. I actually don't mind the dresses that these girls favour - it is, after all, their style, their thing but the huge gowns do not enhance the wearer's grace or elegance. That 16 year old girl who got married looked like she was tramping through a muddy ploughed field instead of gliding up the aisle. Oh well. I should talk. I do a fair bit of galumphing myself and that without being hampered by a dress that weighs more than I do.

Then I watched 'Shameless' but not for long. Far, far, too rude and gory. Hard to take when you're sober. Early night for me I think.

And four more days of work to go. And an orange to eat.

Farfrae's Erection* and Other Matters

So this is me on the countdown to finishing at Moonchaser (anag.) I wonder if I will be very sad when the last day comes?

Today I decided that I will eat less crap, walk more and drink less alcohol. So far it has gone well. I also decided (after reading, before sleeping last night, a little chapter of St Germaine) to do much less housework. St Germaine argues that more than an hour a day is excessive. No doubt there are others who'd argue that even an hour a day is too much. We shall see how it goes.

Now that the weather is getting brighter it's easier to walk and I managed 40 minutes in Tardree forest at lunchtime. I am very happy with my current audiobook which is another Hardy, The Mayor of Casterbridge. How did I get to be over fifty and not read this before?

By the way, I still have another 30 minutes of housework to do, and an orange to eat.

*'Passing to and fro the Mayor beheld the unattractive exterior of Farfrae's erection...'

and earlier in the book the Mayor 'having shut the door... sat in his dining-room stiffly erect.'

As you do. The illustration shows Farfrae and Elizabeth Jane dancing under the erection

Up The Junction (One)

A couple of weeks ago when Kerry Sister and I were having a coffee in Junction One I spotted Liam Gallagher stroking about. It wasn't the latest Liam either but the one from quite a few years back with the hair, the sideburns and the parka. Oh I knew it wasn't the Liam Gallagher but there was more than a passing resemblance. I wondered if he did looky-like work, or if he was in a tribute band.

I saw him again last Monday and he was wearing a suit as you do when you work in a bank.

Happy Birthday South London Sister

January is a shocking month for birthdays in our family. Here's another one.

Wessex Tales

I was very keen on Hardy when I was a teenager but life got in the way and it's only recently that I have returned to him. Now Bert has also become a fan. Oh we are such a literary pair and you would not believe the intellectual conversations we have. When I'd finished 'The Woodlanders' I rushed sobbing into Bert's arms. "What's wrong?" says he. "Woodlanders," I sobbed. "I just finished it. It was so sad!"

Bert said, "The GOOD man."

And I said, "He was a good man and he was like you, he was brilliant at planting trees."

"Aye," says Bert. "But he was a fucking eedjit, lying out in the rain till he died!"

See! I told you we had intellectual conversations!

Before I read 'The Woodlanders' I thought 'Tess' was the greatest story ever told but now I'm not so sure. That ending was incredibly moving. Neither the babies dying in 'Jude' nor Tess getting hung affected me as much as Marty standing all alone at Giles' grave. I was very upset when the the Durbeyfield horse died and heartbroken when Jude and his wife botched the killing of their unfortunate, trusting pig. 'The Woodlanders' is the first, so far, where the plight of the humans moved me to tears.

Happy Birthday London Niece

Happy Birthday Miss M and congratulations on embarking on the brilliant portfolio career.

Happy Birthday Vancouver Nephew

A very happy birthday to my nephew Emmet.

You don't know what you've got till it's gone

First of all a big Nelly shout out to the Halifax banking advisor who helped sort out a thorny financial issue that had been troubling me for several days. Thank you Madam - you made my week and restored my faith in prayer.

And it's been a funny sort of day. I gave in my notice at work. This is something I have been seriously considering since well before Christmas. “Give up your good job in the middle of recession!” I hear you exclaim. Believe you me that is such a Nelly thing to do. I have my reasons and they are good ones.

Still I spent the latter part of the day feeling a wee bit wistful. The new office is starting to grow on me, I work with some lovely people, it's situated in a country area with lots of pleasant walks nearby. It's close to Matty's house. I have very many good memories from my time in this employment.

But this I have learned during my working life – when it is time to go it is time to go. I usually wait until I have another job lined up, this time I haven't taken that step. Although I don't expect to be idle. There will be work for me to do.

Get A Grip Time

Over Christmas I usually get a dose of ostrichitis. Sounds painful doesn't it? The main symptom is sticking my head in the sand. I wonder if ostriches really do that? Now yesterday I actually did think I was going to go completely doolally when I opened a letter containing the most dreadful news, which news was a consequence of my ignoring a previous letter. Obviously this terrifying missive was from my bank. I sat there howling and sobbing for a while then Bert came in and comforted me by patting my shoulder. That's pretty good for Bert. He says it is time to declutter my life. He says if I do that I will feel much better.

So this evening I started on a pile of paper sitting on my desk. I gathered together all the paperwork I think I'll need to convince my bank not to cast me into penury. I read a sweet Christmas card from a decent cove called Peter that I'd missed seeing at the time. I discovered that Nigel the Dog Warden is going to hunt me down for not paying one of my dog licences and I realised that I still haven't renewed my passport! If anyone tries to whisk me away on a Carribean holiday then I am truly stuffed.

That's a start made anyway. I intend to continue the decluttering my life during this coming week. Watch this space!

As Happy As...

At present I am not happy. Joy is mostly absent from my life. Contentment is a distant memory. I'm informed, however, that I am not depressed and I suppose that is something to be glad about.

I sat musing on the sofa just now while watching Bert destroy a perfectly good piece of fish. "You're going to fry it!" I exclaimed in horror. "The only way to cook that fish is to poach it in seasoned milk and butter then make a nice sauce with the liquid." He insisted that frying was the way to go. Off to Pearlie's pantry he popped to get the really awful cooking oil she favours. "At least fry it in butter," I implored him. He was having none of it. He really is a philistine.

So anyways there is me sitting on the sofa suffering the reek as Bert destroyed a perfectly good piece of fish and pondering happiness and the lack of it in my life. I got to thinking of all the 'happy as' sayings, such as -

As happy as a sandboy.

As happy as a clam.

As happy as a pig in shit.

Then this one. Has anyone ever heard it before?

As happy as a goat a-hanging.

It's one of Bert's favourites. Now why should a goat a-hanging be the least bit happy? Beats me.

Musical Youth

Dessie came round this evening. I was telling him that I'd just bought Miss Martha a selection of percussion instruments from Lidl's. He was uncertain as to whether these would be of an acceptable standard. My thoughts are that Miss Martha will probably enjoy them even if they are not of orchestral quality. Bert has been alerted that he will need to sort the whistles and the clarinet for tomorrow as he and the little lady will be having a session. Dessie recommends that we start her on a 'G' whistle. We may have to make an urgent visit to Beat Street, Cullybackey's numero uno musical supplies store. Hope it's not snowing. Hope I don't get carried away and buy Miss Martha a piano as well as a whistle.

Day Off

Which would have been best? Knowing that I was off today or finding out as a nice surprise?

Hard to call.

I spent my unplanned day off drinking way too much coffee with Kerry Sister then cleaning house then going walkies then visiting Matty in hospital. She was a wee bit cross. Cross because her sister has been discharged from hospital and now she is trapped there on her own. She reckons that maybe the doctors will change their minds about doing all these tests and send her home. So I informed her that she was trapped in the system and she informed me that my hair was a mess.

Hey! Mothers and daughters - laugh a minute right up to the end.

New Year's Day

Hannah and I went to meet the lovely Hails today for coffee - what else? There were some boys who tagged along but we paid them no mind. (Sorry Raymond & John).

Hails looks amazing. Korea obviously agrees with her. We went to that place that used to be a world-famous coffee chain and it has totally improved since it stopped being Buckstars. Sadly there was no kimchi on the menu but we gulped down our disappointment and made do with classic bagels and raspberry ruffle cheesecake.

After an hour of catching up, putting the world to rights and talking about pigs, kimchi and blogging we parted company to go and be good daughters to our mothers.

My plan was to spend some quality time with Matty and give the Kerry Sister a break. T'was not to be. When I arrived I found everyone waiting for an ambulance as Matty had developed a bit of a problem. The Kerry Sister and I followed the ambulance and found ourselves in a hideously busy A&E in Antrim Area Hospital where we waited, and waited and waited. Four hours later and she still hadn't been assessed. Meanwhile quite a number of useless fuckwits who appeared to have damn all wrong with them (but then what do I know, I'm not a medico) were taken before her. It seems that a terminally ill 84 year-old merely coming in with one of the nastier symptoms of her disease is not nearly as important as some young cove who will continually harrass the staff (between fag breaks) about when he'll be seen. Staff seemed to know him well too so I'd assume he was a frequent visitor. As I said, I'm not a medico, but if I was responsible for his treatment I'd recommend a staved hole. For those of you not familiar with local slang this translates as a good hard kick up the arse.

At the time of writing I'm assuming Matty is still waiting because I haven't heard anything different. So there you go - New Year's Day. Not to be forgotten.