New Year's Eve with the Coronavirus

 

So it turns out that my heavy cold and Bert’s raging man flu are actually Covid19.

I’ve been phoning around the folks that were at our Boxing Day supper. So far, just Jazzer has tested positive.

I am hoping to feel a bit better tomorrow.

Christmas Without the Internet

This Christmas, apart from the usual things, I have spoken to at least fifteen different BT Call Centre Operatives. I have had one (useless) visit and then a broken appointment with an Openreach Engineer. Today I received a temporary hub and that will be that, until the next appointment with an engineer in five days' time.

Martha and Bert sorted the Christmas tree. We had a clump of Korean pines that had got too close together so Bert cut one down and used the top as our tree. Martha did the decos.

Still Freezing

 

First, to establish, that is not Bert - it was his late Uncle Paddy who kept sheep. Bert hasn't bothered with sheep, except for a time when he was a boy. He tells me that it was selling the lambs that got him the money for his first greenhouse and set him off on a different career.

Here at Springhill, it is just one degree above freezing and it's been foggy all day. I have to go out later to pick Hannah up (taxi cabs are rare as hen's teeth) and I've just watched a YouTube tutorial on locating the foglights on a Toyota Hiace van. It's been a while.

In other news, Pippin has been spayed and will be allowed out again when she has completely recovered. Personally, I think her vet is a bit of a fusspot for she's been out already. She doesn't stay long. Two months as a house cat has softened her up.

Out buying my Guardian this morning and another interesting man caught my eye. Curly hair, bearded, fiftyish - had that bodhran player vibe going on. He bought The Times. I was sad for him.

Freezing

 

Despite Hannah's dire warning, we ventured out today. Bert drove and all went well until, outside our favourite breakfast cafe, the van got stuck in the icy car park. We were helped by a small Englishman and his partner who steered us out while the rest of us pushed. I was so grateful that I nearly wished England were still in the World Cup tournament.

After that small adventure, we went to a nearby fishing supplies shop to search for some Tasmanian boots. Sadly, their stock was low and my size was not available. It was an interesting shop though. I never knew that fisherfolk needed so much stuff. They have special everything. 

I was supposed to go to the bank to cancel a direct debit but it was cold and I had a longing for my wood-burning stove so went home instead. I have changed my phone contract and I know that more savvy people than I can do their banking from the comfort of their own warm fires but somehow i can't get the hang of it. Maybe it's because my phone hasn't enough memory. I have bought some memory and now I have to work out how to get it onto the phone.

Bert didn't have music last night so we thought we'd watch an episode or two of Motherland but then the TV started playing up and that was after me getting new superfast broadband. I'm wondering now if we need a new firestick or a new television. Everything is about technology nowadays. Les called round with very fancy marshmallows and instead of an insert telling one what flavour they were we were expected to use a QR scanner to connect us to the company website. Bert thought he could do it with his phone because it's a Smart Phone duh! He had no luck with that not having installed the app. Luckily I had it because I needed it to scan something for the Van Gogh immersive experience I'm (supposed to be) going to in January.

Well, we had marshmallows with our tea and I went to bed with this laptop. A friend contacted me on Facebook to ask me about a mutual acquaintance. Next thing she's calling me. I didn't know Facebook could do that. I pressed the appropriate key and there is a picture of her favourite cat and her voice filling the room. So there I am, in bed, laptop in front of me and Vinny talking to me just as if she was sitting at the end of my bed. The news wasn't good. The fellow she was telling me about had died. He had been a friend of her late husband and was the brother of two of our friends. As a Mr Heffron once remarked to me (at another funeral, of course)

They're taking them out of our pen now.

All over social media, friends and family have been taking photos of the winter wonderland outside. Not I. It's too cold. Instead, I offer up a picture of my fridge, c. 2005. Maybe you're on there. In your younger days.

Like A Bottle

Hannah was up early this morning and warned me that I was not, under any circumstances, to set one foot outdoors as the yard was like a bottle*.

But what about my paper? And I need milk.

Don't worry. I'll get your paper and milk. Anything else?

Nothing else.

The yard stayed iced over all day and like a good obedient person I remained indoors the entire day. It wasn't that much of a hardship. I could get used to having my paper and milk delivered.

Saturday is the one day I buy a newspaper - the Guardian. It's my weekly treat. I didn't get it last week as I was in Leitrim and Yer Man has it anyway.

The last time I bought the Guardian myself was two weeks ago in the local Spar. I picked it up and went to pay. There was a very nice-looking gentleman in the queue before me. Trim, neat white beard, clever-looking. He must have spotted my Guardian and started muttering to himself, 

Oh yes. Paper, paper, paper...

And left the queue.

And came back. With the Daily Mail. I was so disappointed in him.

As I drove home I told myself this story. The Mail wasn't even for him. It was probably for his ancient, racist mother.

*Like a bottle - covered in ice

Lunch With Jazzer

Jazzer and I went for lunch today in a little restaurant beside The Junction, just outside Antrim town. Jazzer lives in Antrim and I was born in Antrim and yet we still managed to make a few wrong turnings before we got there. Still, we found it eventually and had an enjoyable time. 

Back home again I continued with a little project I've set myself and that is to make a hard copy of this blog. I started yesterday and have got three months' worth down which, so far, amounts to 20000 words. Only another 217 months to go.

Whilst doing this I came across this snippet from 18 years ago.

Yesterday Jazzer and I set off for Toys,R,Us in Whiteabbey. Jazzer did the directions which were hopeless and we got lost. Typical Belfast-bred and she hasn’t a clue how to get anywhere. Before we found Toys.R’Us we found Woolworth’s where I bought a DVD player and some kitchen scales. I have decided to become a champion baker of cakes. We did find the shop eventually. I cannot say what was purchased, as to do so would contravene The Santa Act, 2004.

Jazzer and Nelly - getting lost together since 2004 

A Trip to Leitrim

 Lough Gill from Slish Wood in Sligo

On Friday morning I caught the train to Belfast and boarded the bus to Enniskillen. Mooched around Enniskillen for a while before I met Dr Leitrim Sister. It has been a long time, way too long, since I visited there. 

There have been quite a few changes to their house since my last visit - new kitchen and bathroom- both completed during the lockdown and a lot of the work was carried out by my multi-talented sister. 

No visit to Drumkeeran would be complete without a visit to the delightful Wynne's Bar. I did not spot any sheep the night I was there. I expect they were all rounded up by the time we got there.

We also took a trip to Sligo, where the sister and I did a bit of shopping and my brother-in-law went to the theatre (where he works). We all met up for a bite in Lyons, an old-fashioned department store with a popular cafe. And on the way home, we took a walk with the dog in beautiful Slish Wood.

It was a lovely, relaxing visit.

I only brought one book with me, knowing that if I finished it too soon the sister's house is well-stocked with literature, much of it to my liking. However, my Tana French lasted the course. I started it on the coach to Enniskillen and just as the train pulled into Ballymena station I finished it. 

It was great to see Bert and the dogs in Cullybackey and a relief that the kitten had not been lost. We watched the very silly Handmaid's Tale and Simon Schama then off to my own wee bed. Pippin too. And back to Elizabeth Jane Howard where Mrs Hugh Cazalet is having a baby. I got her the length of her bed last night. And stopped reading. Today she was still labouring away. I stopped reading. I expect her to deliver (hopefully safely) when I pick it up again tonight.

#Diary Entry 5

Bert and I have been watching The English on Swisser's recommendation and have enjoyed it. It is beguiling, intriguing, beautiful to look at, well-written and well-acted. The ending was a bit of a faff but no matter. The only thing that spoiled it was our internet connection which is not behaving well at all.

So - I phoned our internet provider and spoke to someone who sounded like Martin Compston. I fell slightly in love, even though it's highly likely the fellow was young enough to be my grandson. Anyway, he was most helpful, giving us faster broadband, a new router, and a cheaper and better phone deal, all for less than we've been paying for half a decade. I should have phoned him five years ago except he'd probably only have been doing his GCSEs at that time.

That done, went shopping and bought a new coat, my first in many years. It's navy blue and is reminiscent of the Burberry I wore when I was a pupil at St Louis Convent Grammar School. Needless to say, I love it. It's so smart and sensible - no matter how Einstein-like my hair, how stripey my socks or how unfortunate my trousers, this coat will pull everything together and make me respectable. Cannot wait for Leitrim Sister to meet me off the Enniskillen bus and be wowed by my chic.

Did I mention I'm going to Leitrim at the weekend? Leitrim Sister and Yer Man should know that I have set aside some of my winter fuel allowance to spend in Wynns of Drumkeeran  - for what could be more warming than the local gin?

Right Place Right Time

 

My horticultural daughter during her early years. 

Sometimes online shopping doesn't work out. My gardener daughter asked me to buy her a particular pruning knife as a Christmas gift and I was glad to oblige. But because this thing was exceedingly sharp and pointy and I was ordering it in Antrim and having it delivered to Norfolk I was unable to satisfy the requirement for age verification. I phoned the company and they were lovely about it but said it was a tricky one, rules and all that. 

Then it occurred to me that the company's main shop is on a rather posh street in London and that I know someone who is not unfamiliar with upmarket shopping areas. Reader, I called Ganching and amazingly she was out and about and not tremendously far from the sharp things shop. A few hours later she messaged me saying the job was a good one. And she's doing the delivery too! Everyone should be so lucky to have a Ganching in their life.   

Very Kaffe Fassett

These are my own summer wallflowers, and I filtered the feck out of them. I think they look very Kaffe Fassett.   

Pippin continues her post-crate recovery. No outside allowed unless she is in her black and white polka dot cat harness. She tolerates it but it's obvious she'd much prefer running wild and free. But Bogdan was adamant, no outside. She dare not become pregnant and her spaying will not take place until January. Liver for breakfast has been discontinued and she is not best pleased. Thanks to Natasha, who gave me the heads-up, I now know no that liver should be an infrequent treat rather than a regular thing. What has become a regular thing is very frequent fights with Big Fat Fred. They are at it all the time. It's all fun and games until somebody gets hurt but, so far, that is only when he gives her a bit of a nip with one of his few remaining teeth. She has been spotted sniffing under his tail seeking out his non-existent balls - little floozy. Guess she's hit the catty equivalent of her teenage years.

In Which Fred Narrowly Avoids A Bath

The day started off horribly wet and cold. Pigs had a duvet day. It was Pippin's first full day of freedom since her horrible accident and she enjoyed it. She actually chose to spend time in her cage although the door was left unlocked so she could leave when she wanted. 

I went shopping before I picked up the girls and bought a new bed for Judy and another clothes airer. Since the rise in electricity prices, I have decided to drastically cut down the use of the tumbler dryer. The drive to empty the big freezer is going slowly - too slowly. I managed to stew some raspberries and whitecurrants today and made a plan for rhubarb and ginger jam. There is a strange fish in there which I intend to defrost tomorrow. 

Evie arrived covered in mud, something to do with falling on the grass. I was reminded of Fred, who turned up the other day absolutely clarried in muck. I couldn't understand how it had happened. The muck didn't smell foul but it had an oily quality to it and wasn't easy to get off his fur. Brushing it out made a start and the rest of it dried out and disappeared after a couple of days. That old boy is too old to be bathed. He would despise it.

After discovering a lot of fur (that flew) in the woodshed, Bert reckons he had a territory fight with another cat. Recently Fred has been spending a lot of time there and it's likely there is a nest of ratlings in there, somewhere. The rival cat must have tumbled him into the resiny, sludgy effluent that runs off the logs. But no harm done, he's fine now, spending more time indoors and tolerating Pippin following him everywhere he goes.

At the end of the evening, Martha showed me how to edit my videos and in return, I gave her a masterclass on the history of popular music from The Monkees to the Pixies. The only tracks she knew were Monkey Goes to Heaven and Smells Like Teen Spirit. Next week she is going to teach me how to suck eggs.

In other news, I discovered I have five of the Cazalet Chronicles and have started reading number one. Sadly. two of the five were duplicates and they are already donated to the Tesco charity bookshelf. I think I'm going to enjoy this reading adventure.

Freedom and Independence

 

Here's me and who is like me?

Off to Cookstown today for what we hoped would be Pippin's final post-op visit. And it was! Bogdan pronounced her to be doing well and said that strict cage rest was no longer needed. In fact, what Pippin needs now is lots of indoor running around to build up the muscle in her injured leg. Bogdan assured us that her limp would disappear as the leg strengthens.

The first thing she did when she got home was playfight with Fred, and then they both went upstairs to nap on Bert's bed.

And that was our news. In other news, I was sorry to hear that Wilko Johnson died. But not sorry to hear that the Supreme Court has decided that Scotland cannot legally hold an independence referendum. Not sorry because I think it will harden Scotland's resolve. Hopefully, the next GE will show that. 

Diary Entry #4

 I got Wordle in two goes today, with a little help from my friends, specifically Catherine from NZ. They are so ahead of us in time. When the end times come the McGuckin cousins will be raptured up to heaven before we Nordies even know what's happening. Enz ways - I went for ADIEU, got the A and the I exactly where they were needed and made an educated guess.

And also, today, applied the Jazzer method to my housework routine and had all redd up in two hours. Spent the afternoon being very bored as Bert was out at a dental appointment. Somehow the kitten, despite being under strict orders to stay in the damn crate, got out, got hold of Bert's dental plate and skited it about the floor til she broke it.

It was cold today, so put the central heating on for one hour and made macaroni cheese for supper.

Later, out of sheer boredom, bought two pre-loved books from eBay, one a recommendation from Ganching and one other.   

Diary Entry #3

 

Hedges, too Presbyterian, silage bales, too shiny, late Autumn light, glorious

Nellybert got invited to lunch this afternoon, delicious food, great company, good time. Met, for the first time, a wonderful pup and for the manyeth time, some wonderful twins.

Diary Entry #2

I met an old friend today. I thought we'd spend a few hours together but she wanted to make a day of it and I'm glad she did because I enjoyed myself very much.

Bert was on his own all day and when I returned at around 5pm he was scoffing a filled baguette and a plate of pickles.

That's a late lunch.

Breakfast, actually.

You're not wise.

I kept thinking you'd be back with something nice to eat.

Why would I do that? Sure our shelves are groaning with food. I thought we had a pact to eat what is actually there rather than continuously buy more stuff?

That is actually true as we are trying to decommission a chest freezer. It is supposed to be emptied by Christmas but it's not going to be easy. 

Charity shop find, a present for my friend

Weather Report

 

It has been unseasonably mild these past few days. A warm south-westerly has been blowing and some summer-blooming annuals and biennials are even coming back into flower. According to BBC Weather, the unusually high temperatures are due to the action of the jet stream and the wind coming from the Tropics giving Northern Ireland its warmest November night on record.

Not that I'm complaining.

We had Ben and Sara for a sleepover last night. Ben was here for most of the day helping Bert split and chop firewood. This warm weather won't be here forever y'know. Sara had family commitments in Co. Derry so she came later bearing a pastry box from The Green Cat Bakery in Eglinton. Their salted caramel squares were blissful. Then I thought we might have a few little drinks and take in some great slide guitarists on YouTube but we ended up watching funny cat videos instead.

Which was good. Pippin enjoyed the cat videos too.

Tomorrow it is to piss down rain.

Diary Entry #1

I am definitely going to start using this blog as a diary. I might not always feel inclined to write reams on daily/weekly events and as I grow ever older I'll be glad to have the memories to hand.

Mick was here last week from Thursday evening to Sunday. Kerry Sister and family (all five of them and Jackie the dog) came up on Friday (staying in Glenarm) and leave tomorrow. They visited here on Saturday, I visited them last night - my first drive in the dark in months. I got to watch the moon rise from all the way from Broughshane to Carnlough which was beautiful.

Today I met Kerry Sister in Ballymena and I had a lovely sisterly time visiting nearly all the charity shops in Ballymena. And I had extra money to spend as my physio appointment didn't happen.

So tired this evening.

Extra Time

 

Ever since Pippin's disastrous accident on the 18th of October, and her surgery on the 20th she has been under the vet's order to stay in a cage. Strict cage rest they call it.

It was a tricky operation as her pelvis was broken in two places and the top of her femur was so damaged that it had to be removed. Then the plates holding her broken bones were so small and the screws so tiny that there was a real danger they could become undone if she was too active.

Four weeks from the 21st of October was the vet's initial advice. So we were all looking forward to the 18th of November. Freedom Day for Pippin. We have been taking her to Cookstown for weekly post-operative check-ups since her discharge. Today was her third visit. And today we were told at least another two weeks in the cage. Then they'll see.

Part of me sees the point of it. The vet who carried out the surgery is entirely invested in its success. She was (so far) the smallest cat he'd ever operated on and from our point of view, it was an expensive operation, easily worth 10 times the price of the average kitten. Not that that matters for Pippin is a very special cat. And another thing too - she's resting, she's eating chopped lamb's liver for breakfast every morning and she is growing - she's a much bigger cat now than the one Bogdan operated on. 

Sieve Eel Vein

Miss Evie's birthday is today. I baked her a cake on Monday, Family Meal Day, and took photographs. But they were not very good. As I get better at cake my photography declines. This was the best of them.

Saturday Routines

 I don't buy newspapers except on Saturday when I treat myself to the Guardian. Bert and I have our routines, we compete on the Quizword. I make a spare photocopy and do it separately. This morning I informed him,

I'm going to thrash you today. It's a Steinbeck theme.

When it comes to literature I have the advantage. He is much better at geographical and geo-political clues.

But - when I started the crossword I realised that quite a few of the clues were favouring Bert's expertise and as I admitted to him the ones I'd hoped would give me the advantage were actually Steinbeck-lite, meaning that most Boomers would have come across them in English class. He beat me by four answers. Admission - neither of us has ever completed a Quizword. 

To make things worse he finished his Wordle in three while I went to the wire with six.

A little later he came to me saying,

I suppose you know who Theon Greyjoy's sister is?

I said,

Depends on which one you mean. His sister in Game of Thrones or the actor's actual sister?

The actual actor's sister.

Lily Allen. Everybody knows that. Everybody knew who Lily Allen was before anybody heard of Alfie Allen. In fact, she had to write a song about him before anybody even knew about him.

We take our victories where we can. I also had to talk him through the Martin Rowson.

 

In Which Bert Despairs Of His Hair

Just a quick update Chez Nellybert. 

Pippin had a check-up on Tuesday and Bogdan (the veterinary surgeon) is delighted with her. She is a week in the crate now and gets fed up with it sometimes although she is mostly accepting of it. She has been introduced to Cat YouTube channels and every day she spends ten minutes or so watching the birdies. We'll probably regret this when she recovers and starts killing our goldfinches.

She goes to see Bogdan on Tuesday and will hopefully be getting her stitches removed.

There was something about another Prime Minister.  During the deliberations, Bert became aware of the phenomenon that is Michael Fabricant. He could not believe such a creature existed, and one that expected to be taken seriously. Later in the week, as Bert was despairing of his hair he was heard saying that he hated his locks. I consoled him with the thought that he too could invest in a Dougal wig.

Yesterday I took the latest Covid 19 booster and the flu shot. Later that day I became very fatigued and foggy-brained. I still feel like that. Early night tonight and hopefully will be feeling more myself tomorrow. It's lucky that I have four more episodes of Bad Sisters to keep me occupied.

Pippin Does Facebook

Hannah's Facebook Tuesday:  for I was so stressed my fingers wouldn't work.

Pippin is missing since this morning. She could be about the Dreen Road, Killyless Road, Granagh Road area. Please let us know if you have seen her as we are worried sick.

The same day, from me.

Pippin (5 months old) has not been seen since early morning. We live on Dreen Road, not far from Killyless Road near Cullybackey. We have been searching all day and are worried that something has happened to her.

That day was one of the most stressful days of our lives. We searched everywhere except where she most likely was - the big hedge on the left side of our lane. The one closest to the road. The one that we allowed a hedge-cutting contractor to cut whilst she was probably lying injured inside it. The one that she sheltered in while stove fitters worked yards from it using grinders and other loud machinery and beside the lane that Clint trundled up for hours bringing cattle for over-wintering in the big shed. It must have been Pippin's most stressful day too and all that with added shock and pain.

Facebook, Wednesday morning.

Pippin turned up 30 minutes ago. She is hurt and is on her way to the vet. Bert and I want to thank everyone for the messages and good wishes. I will update later.

We had convinced ourselves she was gone forever. The previous night I'd gone out with a torch and called her name, hoping I'd hear that faint mew. Early morning rising, checking the doors to see if she'd returned. By nine I was sitting, exactly where I'm sitting now, at this PC and I heard Bert shout, Am I seeing things? Is this her? And I turned (I'd been crying) and he is standing there and Pippin is in his arms. We embraced, and I cried more.

But something was wrong. It was clear she was glad to be in the house, she refused food and collapsed exhausted in her favourite bed. Her legs weren't right. I called the Portglenone vet.

According to the vet everything indicated that Pippin had been hit by a vehicle. The X-rays showed that her pelvis was fractured in two places and the top of her femur was irreparably smashed. Pippin was to be transferred from Portglenone to Cookstown for orthopaedic surgery. We delivered her. It was such a relief to see her again and to see that, despite everything, she was still herself, even if it was her sedated self. Hannah had reminded us to bring her favourite toy and the moment she felt and smelt it she began to purr.

Facebook Wednesday - Pippin is on her way from the Portglenone vet to Cookstown for tomorrow's surgery. She has just been happily reunited with her special grey monkey a gift, (as was Pippin) from Sara and Ben.

Facebook Thursday - Pippin has come through her surgery and we expect to have her home either tomorrow or Saturday. There will be rules. For a start, no picking fights with Fred, and no letting Judy use her as a pillow.

Facebook today - Pippin got home today. Needs to live in a cage for four weeks. She's not too happy about it. Had her first Dreemies today and we've found she is also partial to chopped liver. Helps the medicine go down.

Silly of me but I wasn't expecting the cage. But it makes sense. She needs to heal and she thinks she should still be able to rampage about as before. It is great to have her back home. Every day and in every way she will get better and better. Hannah says she has to live until she is 20 to make up for all this but I'd be happy to take fifteen.

To all our Facebook friends reading this - your support and kind messages meant such a lot.

To all at Parklands, Portglenone, Cookstown and Dungannon. Thank you.

Day Out in Belfast

There had been an arrangement to have a new stove fitted today in my private, secret sitting room and I didn't want to be there when it happened. So I thought I'd have a wee excursion to Belfast. Swisser was to come too. The stove-fitting appointment was cancelled until Tuesday, but we decided to go anyway.

It was a fine day, with blue skies and fluffy clouds. Belfast is beautiful when the weather allows. Our first call was to St George's Market then on to the Mac to see the Ron Mueck exhibition. There was no light-heartedness or joy in these works. The sculptures were contemplative, serious and concerned.  That's life, that's humanity. Which is why it worked for me. Being alive is a serious business and ends in being dead. 

But one must eat. We had lunch at Dumpling Library which was very good. We had seaweed dumplings, salmon fishcakes and deep-fried spinach wontons. I shall take Bert there someday soon.. 

And one must clothe oneself - to shopping. Urban Outfitters, Seasalt and Jigsaw. Swisser tried on about a million things in Seasalt while I sat outside watching the world go by. I was expecting her to emerge laden with bags but she had only one solitary jumper. I bought a hot pink shirt from Urban Outfitters which will brighten up my life and, hopefully, that of those around me.

A dem good day. Culture, food, fashion and friendship. The only thing missing was books. And I have enough books for now.

Night Plane

Bert calls from another room,

What was that just flew overhead?

American Airforce, just flew out of  Aldergrove, heading who knows where. I'll keep an eye on it.

I hope it didn't disturb the hens.

UPDATE: The plane took a left between Portrush and Islay and is now heading west.

Posts About Sewing Machines

Tomorrow I intend to donate a 1920s Singer sewing machine to a local charity shop. 

Then I realised I needed a picture of it but it's already in the back of the van, along with a conglomeration of other stuff, kiddy car seats, cat baskets, and old tools and would not make a pretty picture. So I had to trawl through my House & Home folder, which took a while as there are 2,218 files and 145 folders. I cannot have cared much for the machine for there was just one photograph.  And that was mainly of a hen.

I cannot remember when I got the machine but it is the last in a long line. I'd never gotten around to using it and would have felt guilty about selling as it was gifted to me. 

I've been searching through the blog archive to see how long it's been here. No record. The photo is from six years ago so much longer than that. While delving into the past I found a few more sewing machine references.

This one from nine years ago is a true story about how I acquired my first Singer treadle.

The other day I was listening to a discussion on the radio about how the recession has affected ordinary families. One woman had this to say,

I'm cutting back as much as I can. I go to Aldi and Lidl, I'm on online auctions, I use Freecycle, I cut coupons. I don't know what else I can do!

And I couldn't help thinking.

Well, you could always consider not wanting so much stuff!

Then I remembered that, as a young woman with a very small budget, I too used to enjoy acquiring stuff.

I loved auctions, jumble sales and charity shops. I was good at jumble sales (sharp elbows) and diligent in charity shops but for auctions, it was a cunning strategy that was needed.

And it was just such a cunning strategy that was lacking when I spotted the notice in the paper, advertising a house clearance near Glarryford. I was looking for a sewing machine and there were two listed. Surely I'd get one Singer at least? No strategy needed!

In that part of the country, house clearances were very popular with second-hand dealers and farmers' wives. I reasoned that the farmers' wives at least, if they were keen on sewing, would already possess a sewing machine and that at least one of the Singers would surely be mine. I also decided that dealers would not be interested in sewing machines so they would be no competition.

The auction started in the yard at the back of the house. I was surrounded by grim-faced men in tweed caps and their equally grim-faced womenfolk. The Singers were lots number ninety-something so I had a bit to go. I passed the time watching how other people bid. Seven cushions came up. They were a mixed lot, tatty and well-worn, just the sort of cushions you could sweep off the seats in any farm kitchen. The bidding started at fifty pence. Then it went to a pound. Two women were bidding against each other and the price kept rising. The cushions were eventually sold for £12 and if I'd been the woman who lost (wised up) I think I'd have been mighty relieved. But this bidding frenzy for a handful of scruffy cushions rattled me. What if one or more of the farmers' wives couldn't bear to see me get a perfectly good Singer for a bargain price? What should I do? At last, my treadle machine was called. 

Who'll give me £5 for this Singer sewing machine in good working order?

Oh no! These Glarryford women won't be able to bear seeing me get this machine for a knockdown price. 

I rang out, 

Ten pounds!

Silence. Then...

Sold to the woman with no nerve!

So that was my bidding strategy. And it worked. 

A Trip To Kerry

Zoe and I have just spent three nights in County Kerry. It was a family occasion, the naming ceremony of my great-nephew.  We travelled by train, which was pleasant enough, although rather a long journey - forty minutes from Cullybackey to Belfast, two hours on the Enterprise to Dublin and four hours from Dublin to Tralee. Bhí sé goirt ar mo thóin.*

Not drowning but waving

When we arrived it seemed that the fam was swimming mad as there was a great rush to Ballydavid before it got too dark or cold - not that those hardy hoors would have cared. As I cannot swim a stroke it was left to me to take the pictures and mind their stuff. Being me, I took the opportunity to have a little fall. Nothing much, a fast approach of kneecaps to asphalt and a bit of abrasion to the hands. The important thing was, no one witnessed it.

That evening we had our supper at Kerry Sister's and made arrangements to have everyone over to our spacious holiday rental the following night. Which would be fifteen people. No bother. 

The spacious holiday rental

The spacious holiday rental consisted of four big rooms, two of which were en suite. I had previously volunteered Zoe and me for the twin bed share. Of which, more later. Enough to say neither of us slept well and that night I had a dream so foul that I will never be able to speak of it.

Although I say it myself the supper for fifteen was a big success. This was almost entirely down to our multi-talented Dr Leitrim Sister who has previous experience catering for stars of stage and screen. Zoe acted as her capable assistant. My own contribution was chopping veggies for a green salad and being encouraging.  

 That was my one and only drinking night. I had at least four (large) glasses of Lidls finest and I like to think I made some new friends. 

Yet sleep eluded me (and Zoe) for a second night. Damn those pathetic, useless beds with their comfortless coverings and cheap single pillows.

The next day was to be the darling nephew's big day. The intrepid swimmers headed back to Ballydavid and I stayed behind to finish Brendan Behan's After The Wake which I'd promised to Leitrim Sister. Then it was off to the Naming Ceremony which turned out to be one of the best days of my entire life. 

The actual ceremony was beautiful, and led by a Humanist celebrant. There was music, sublime and sincere performed by humans who were close to the child. It was meaningful in a way that made me realise that our gods intrude. And the little child knew. He knew that he was loved. Little children don't care about gods. They are the original humanists.

It was a long day with delicious food, great company and craic. I even managed to have an IRL encounter with someone I only knew online and that was good too. 

After all the excitement I thought I might have rested easier in my bed. No luck. I tossed and turned and ached all night. A short fitful sleep was marred by horrible anxiety dreams and I even considered moving to the sofa in the sitting room for relief. Zoe beat me to it and I was left plotting revenge on the haunted beds. I fantasised about breaking my bed with a hammer and then burning it to ashes on the front lawn.

Last day. I'd finished After the Wake and swapped it for Leitrim Sister's copy of The End of the World is a Cul de Sac which was shaping up to be excellent. There was a last goodbye to everyone and special hugs for the baby. We will meet again soon.

Leitrim Sister gave Zoe and me a lift to  Dublin where we completed the journey by train. And on the way, we stopped at  Barack Obama Plaza on the Tipperary/Offaly border. We hit it at a busy time - there were 5 coaches in the car park, two belonging to a hundred or more under-12 GAA lads and three packed with students heading to Dublin. On the way back to the car, Leitrim Sister and Zoe were expressing some disappointment about the services offered. But not me. I felt enlivened by the squawking baby footballers and delighted with the weary students. It could have been worse, I ventured. Could have been 5 coach loads of wee grannies like me.

Zoe said, 

Can you imagine it? All those wee grannies standing around the coffee machine saying,  "How does it work? Can you show me?"

Cheeky skitter.

* I am using an online translation service and would welcome corrections.

Ar ais go Ciarraí

 If all goes according to plan, by this time tomorrow, I'll be west of Dingle. 

I bought these postcards the first time I went to Dingle which was sometime last century.

In other news, Wordle is suspended as my PC won't fit in my suitcase. I have a winning streak of 103 and must begin afresh on my return to County Antrim.

Pig Abroad

This was my usual Monday, leisurely preparing supper for the fam. On the menu, a sort-of cassoulet - light on beans and for dessert, an apple crumble. A glut of tomatoes (thanks Clint) went into the stew and a present of Katy apples (thanks Howard) were used up in the crumble.

Then the dogs started to bark. A taxi-van pulled up to the door. The same taxi-van that I'd pranged the wing mirror. Who could it be? We weren't expecting anyone. The driver jumped out, the same pleasant bloke who'd got Zoe's surplus tomato plants. He looked slightly panicked. I went out to him.

Do you have a pig?

Indeed we do.

It's on the road!

Oh God! Bert! There's a pig on the road.

Bert set down his clarinet and I shouted to him

Bring an apple! We'll tempt it back up the lane.

What is it about apples and temptation?

The taxi driver drove off and parked his van at the mouth of the lane. And there was Rusty being 'kepped' by our neighbour Clare. There were several cars stopped in both directions but thankfully they couldn't see we feckless pig-owners because of the taxi-van. Of course, as soon as Rusty spotted the apple he was good to go and Bert placed him under shed arrest. As I expected, it was Bert to blame, He'd brought a load of timber in from the wood and forgot to close the gate. Probably going over a new clarinet tune in his head. 

We worked out that Rusty probably wanted into the hen run to guzzle up the windfall apples. When he couldn't get through the gate he must have wandered down the lane to see if he could find another opening. Pigs are like that. And apples are tempting. 

My Diary

 

The diaries of Alan Rickman featured in yesterday's Guardian and it occurred to me that one's blog is actually a diary and that I should start treating it as such. It's not the first time I've thought this.

So I must mention that I started seeing a physiotherapist a few weeks ago. I'd been urged to do this by both Ganching and Kerry Sister. It all seems to be going well and I've noticed some minor improvements. On Saturday last I needed to pick up a prescription and parked the van five minutes walk from the pharmacy. About one minute into the walk my hip started to hurt and it didn't stop. I kept going. The only other notable thing that happened was bumping into the taxi driver whose wing mirror I clipped a few months ago. When he called to see me about this we ended up visiting the polytunnels and left with his repair money and a box of free tomato plants. Apparently, they've done well.

Wednesday evening and all of Thursday were marred by stomach aches. I blamed too much rich food, especially birthday cake. Despite this, I still bought the ingredients for a Pineapple Coconut Cake. At the time of writing, I have yet to make it.

In Bert’s opinion, my guts were bad because I had not drunk wine since the previous Saturday. He backed his argument with that famous biblical quote.*

With this in mind, on Friday we shared a nice bottle of wine from Lidl.

On Saturday I went to Portglenone to have my hair trimmed and afterwards went to the charity shops. And only bought a book, Updike’s Run, Rabbit which I will hopefully get around to reading sometime in the next two years. Whilst perusing the shelves I heard a familiar voice which turned out to be a chap I’d sat next to at my Aunt Bee’s funeral meal some weeks before. He told me that it was Bee’s Months Mind which I’d not known about.

When I got home I contacted Youngest Brother and we made an arrangement to go together. It was the regular early evening mass in Antrim and the chapel was packed. The priest had just got back from Medjugorje and was tremendously enthused about it. The sermon was delivered with exuberance and featured the importance of the Rosary and the reality of the Devil. I’m sure that Aunt Bee would have approved.

Afterwards, Joe and I went to the cemetery. We visited two graves. Joe’s little granddaughter Ava, who died three years ago and Joseph, our cousin and Aunt Bee’s oldest child, who will be gone ten years tomorrow.

And after all that, I went home via Lidl where I bought another bottle of that fine wine – for my stomach’s sake.

*1 Timothy 5:23

Family  Anniversaries

Bernie 1930 - 1922

Joseph 1955 - 2012

Ava 2011 - 2019