In The News

Is it nearly a week since I last looked at Nelly's Garden? Sure doesn't time fly when you're enjoying yourself?

I had the Leitrim Sister up for a few days and the country wine had a very mixed reception. She caught me racking the orange and tasted it then pronounced it rank poison. The raspberry, while tasty enough, was "too strong". I suppose that is a fault of sorts.  Maybe it is too strong for I had one of those hangover thingies the next day and I didn't like it.

The weekend rushed past in a flurry of visiting and being visited. I can say without any fear of contradiction (for if you contradict me, you are just plain wrong) that a lady from Tannaghmore, formerly from Armoy, makes the best soda bread in County Antrim and probably the world.

And Liam Neeson received the Freedom of the Borough in Ballymena today. Miss Martha and her mummy appeared in the local TV news as part of the crowd that welcomed Liam to the Town Hall. I'm sure this will not be the last time Martha appears on a news programme.

 Pictures are screen shots from UTV player

Baby Bliss

Yesterday afternoon Martha and Evie came out to have fun in the snow. As the day wore on I got a bit fretful that the snow wasn't as pristine and wonderful as it had been in the morning but then I realised I was being very silly because at ages one and three snow is simply snow - magical white stuff for playing in and with.

Martha was tremendously proud of her first snowman. She ordered a carrot for his nose but the carrot store was empty. A small onion made an acceptable substitute.

Meanwhile over by the sheds where slushy puddles abound...

Snowed In!

Snowed In......

Well. Not quite. However the weather forecast yesterday was dire enough to have Bert fretting.

How will we get to the shops?

We'll walk!

How?

We'll wrap ourselves in huge layers of clothing and we'll strap rudimentary snow shoes to our feet. You'll fashion hiking poles for us and we'll have knapsacks on our backs and we'll schlep down to Cully through the snow.

I suppose we could do that.

And as we trudge along we can wave at all the normal people driving down in their cars.

Sartorial Failings

I hear that onesies are having a moment and thank God that I am past all that sort of thing. Mind you, dressing like a toddler is no new thing here in Northern Ireland. Many of our young and would-be young have been wearing hooded romper-suits for years now. This year they are often accessorised with a scarf covering the lower half of the face and a Union Jack casually draped over the outfit. Hoods are worn raised.

Bert can sometimes be spotted following the fashion. No hoodies or flags for him but he has been wearing onesies for absolute aeons. He calls them boiling (boiler) suits and he gets them from the pack man or at Killyless Stores. He just doesn't feel dressed without a boiling suit and around home he'll wear one whether at work, rest or play.

Yesterday he went to the cloakroom and pulled a boiler suit from the hook then proceeded to step into it. He had shrugged his shoulders into it and was about to start fastening the poppers when he gave a gasp of surprise. I turned from the washing up to see what was up and there he was, trying to fasten another boiler suit over the top of the boiler suit he was already wearing. See! They're like a second skin to him. He said that he couldn't understand why it was so hard to do up and thought he'd put on weight.

There was another wardrobe malfunction this morning. He is up early these mornings as he is doing civic duty. I noticed that he had on a very nice pair of trousers that I'd not seen him wear before. They fitted him beautifully. They were trousers that I'd bought him at the Marks & Spencer outlet store in Antrim and they'd hung in his wardrobe for more than a year. I complimented him on his appearance. We ate our porridge and he rose to make coffee. I couldn't help admiring how the well cut trews showed off his neat and shapely backside. Then I saw it.

Bert feel your arse!

He groped around it until he came to the big Blue Mountain cardboard label.

It's just as well I noticed that before you got there! 

I was wearing these trousers when I was there last week.

Note to self. Check husband before he leaves house unless he is having a onesie day.

Happy Birthday Get Well Soon

Happy birthday to sister Ganching. I didn't know whether to send her a birthday card or a get well card. What a rotten way to spend a birthday - in bed with 'flu.

Another Blog. Why Not?

I'm considering starting another blog on the topic of making country wines. After all, I've been doing it  for sixteen months now so I must be an expert, mustn't I?

Achievements

I have been feeling rather flat this past week. First of all there was the post-Christmas slump, then there was a nuisance of a head cold and then there was the dank and gloomy weather. Even the antics of the pup were not sufficient to pull me from the doldrums.

At this particular time Bert has to be out of the house during office hours. He is on business that must be done and I am left alone with dogs, cats, pigs and Pearlie. I told myself I had to to pull myself together. So this morning, the first morning of Bert's absence I decided to list my achievements as the day progressed. I made this decision in bed so my first achievement was -

1. Get out of bed.

This was swiftly followed by -

2. Attend to Pearlie's morning needs.
3. Attend to the morning needs of hens, pigs and dogs. Cats do not have morning needs.
4. Get out of bed. (Because I returned there after meeting the morning needs of livestock and old ladies.)

By then I had four achievements and it wasn't even ten o'clock! I can tell you that this cheered me up so much that I didn't even bother counting any further achievements.

Onwards and upwards!

Happy New Year Now I Am Old

Read somewhere today that old age officially begins when one is 59 years old, two months and two weeks. That was, for me, the 23rd November, 2012.

I think I can live with it. After all, what's the alternative?

Happy New Year to everyone, young and old.