The Day After The Wedding

 

First of all, we had the best day at the wedding. Beautiful bride, handsome groom, prettiest flower girls, cutest attendants, great speeches, tears of joy, poignant moments, happy guests, super venue, delicious food, flowing drinks. Bert said it was the best wedding ever which, if you know Bert, is high praise indeed.

Then tonight we had a family gathering at my youngest brother's home. I was looking forward to it as I didn't get the opportunity to have an in-depth convo with all the siblings. And guess what? It also turned out to be a surprise party for me! And I genuinely did not expect it. It's 12 whole days before I turn seventy. But when I do five of the sibs will be in far-flung places so they took an opportunity. 

This is a picture of all of us in order of age, me being the oldest and Joe at the other end, the youngest. The surprise had not been sprung when the picture was taken. If I look chuffed there, imagine what I looked like a bit later on.

By the way, I love that Ziggy (bless) photo-bombed the picture. 

Apparently, I should have taken the photograph before I blew out the candles. And speaking of blowing out candles I had to ask for assistance from Martha and Evie. They have so much more puff than me. Thanks girls and thanks be for my lovely sisters and brothers.

The Night Before The Wedding

The photograph above is a definite out-take. Yet something about it kept me from disposing of it years ago. There's an air of jollity about it and Daddy looks so dignified. It must have been a special occasion, a birthday or an anniversary. Mum's in there too but a rascally child seems to have got right in front of her. I wonder who took the picture. Maybe they were laughing so much they just couldn't keep the camera steady. 

We'll be having another family get-together tomorrow as that rascally child is getting married. I hope she and her new husband get themselves a better photographer than whoever it was who took that one.

Bit Of A Catch Up

 

On Wednesday Bert and I took Ziggy to the vet for his X-ray and scan. First, the vet (one of my faves as she is so straightforward) gave him a check-up. The medicine was working well and his lungs were clear. I said goodbye and left him for his tests. Back to the vet at 2pm. I saw the X-ray. Poor Ziggy's heart is very enlarged, leaving little room for the rest of his organs. Still, the vet said the meds would keep him comfortable and give him a better-quality life so well worth it. The wee fellow was glad to get home.

Thursday was Martha and  Evie Day and we had three friends around. They are five busy girls, what with school, orchestra, football, drama, Irish dancing and camogie and it was the first time in an age they were all together. Four of them are now considerably taller than me. Only Maria is smaller but she isn't even in double figures yet so it can only be a matter of time. The girls spent all day outside, made a swing, broke a swing, made another swing, communed with the kune kunes and involved themselves in a whole other of other outdoor activities their mother and granny knew nothing about.

2023

2018

Friday, Martha and Evie were still with us. We had quiet day, the only momentous event being Cleo getting hold of Martha's retainer and rendering it unusable. Martha was most upset but fortunately, she had a spare. The damage Cleo has wreaked since coming to live with us must by now be edging close to about five hundred pounds worth.

Saturday and Sunday involved some extra cleaning in preparation for visitors, both Antipodean and Wedding. Some gardening was also involved. Much Lucifer was banished to the hot place also known as the compost heap. There is a reason this gorgeous perennial is rarely to be found in garden centres. Anyone who has it will always be palming it off on fellow gardeners. I've got to the stage where I cannot get anyone to take it.

My New Zealand cousin thought Lucifer was lovely but she flinched at the sight of my agapanthus. Apparently, it is a noxious weed where she comes from.  And it wasn't the only noxious weed she spotted but the less said about that the better.

For those that wonder what the top picture in this post has got to do with anything the answer is - lots. For I heard a really good story today which featured a donkey that ate all the flowers in a granny's garden. And the wee blond lad holding the donkey's halter will be visiting from Vancouver this coming week and I'm really looking forward to seeing him. 

Family Trees and Kissing Cousins

 

In recent years Nellybert has let the garden areas in Springhill go to rack and ruin. Last week we decided to act and got a man in to do something about it. So far he has uncovered a forgotten hawthorn tree, some buried rhubarb and a rotten egg. He says he has a scythe. 

Martha has received some pleasing news this week. Thanks to her mum's family tree research she has found out that both of her step-grandparents are related to her for it turns out that Granda Mick and Granny Linda, who both hail from Leek in Staffordshire, are cousins! Neither of them were aware of this until Zoe told them. To be exact they are third cousins which means their common ancestors are great-great grandparents. We already knew through DNA testing that Bert and Martha's dad are related. No-one knows how. It's estimated between third and fifth cousins but as Bert's DNA is concentrated due to his maternal grandparents being first cousins and his mum and dad being second cousins, once removed, the issue is complicated. My best guess is that the common ancestor there might date from as far back as the 18th century. 

Still, as far as  Martha is concerned a relly is a relly and she is pleased with the connection to Linda and Bert. Not half as pleased as I am though, with my hacking and slashing gardener. Wonder if we're related?

By the way, for those who don't quite get it Martha is Linda's third cousin, twice removed.

And another thing - my great-uncle Father Joe Byrne was the person who explained to my mother how cousinship worked and she explained it to me. Father Joe was keen on the family tree research and being a priest had easy access to parish registers all over Ireland and beyond. He'd seek out distant cousins and even found his niece, my Aunt Roisin, a lovely husband in Middlesbrough who was a far-out cousin. I'm sure it was a blessing to Granny who must have thought she'd never get Roisin out of the house. 

The Joy of Tidying

 

Obviously the first thing to do when embarking on a tidying spree is to sort one's books in alphabetical order. That sparks joy.

Everything else is pure drear.

It has been a busy week with little time for tidying. There was a friend's party on Saturday evening at which I did not drink alcohol and had a great time. A practice run for Neesh's wedding. On Monday Bert and I borrowed Clint's trailer and went to the Council Recycling Centre where we dumped the clothes dryer and some other items. I suppose that could be considered tidying.  Tuesday, I took the girls for breakfast and took some stuff to a charity shop (more tidying). We went to Tim Hortons - my first (and last) visit. 

On Wednesday we bought a gigantic television set and then visited some old friends we hadn't seen for ages.

Thursday was a tough day. Ziggy hadn't been well the previous night and Han asked us to take him to the vet. She couldn't do it herself as she had work commitments. The vet spent some time listening to his chest and when she had finished she told us that his heart was failing. Blood tests were taken and he received two intravenous injections. He was booked in for further tests. We were told to bring him back the next day if he wasn't any better which worried me. It was hard having to tell Han when she phoned to ask how he'd got on.

We had the girls on Thursday but didn't see that much of them apart from at feeding time. They amuse themselves these days, playing with Cleo, drawing, loading apps on Bert's phone and watching Netflix on my laptop. Bert set the new TV up which kept him occupied. I worried about Ziggy, who, as the afternoon wore on seemed to improve a little, chest not thumping as much, coughing less. He fell asleep on my sofa but the minute Hannah's car came up the lane he sat bolt upright. 

Today we had a friend come around to help us clear an overgrown part of the yard. He is a big mate of Ziggy who was pleased to see him. There was lots of tail wagging and after they'd said hello to each other we left Ziggy to rest. But no, Ziggy wanted to hang out and that's what he did. The injections and the meds he has started seemed to have alleviated the worst of his symptoms. 

And the wild place got cleared (more tidying) with the promise of further clearing to come and Les and Mrs Les called round to collect a forgotten saxophone. How does anyone forget a saxophone? And Teeny Bird and her two lovely children and Uncle Ben and two welders and Howard (bearing home-grown strawberries, cucumbers and tomatoes) all called to visit and then Locky phoned to ask how Ziggy was, so a very full day indeed. 

And after everyone had gone and we had dinner we watched the Chris Packham programme on our giant TV then Naked Attraction. I'm not sure which was more harrowing.  

Pishmouls and Dictionaries

I have written before about Bert's habit of asking me inane questions. Some people might find this endearing but I find it irritating. For instance, this morning, he asked. 

What's the first word in the dictionary?

Go look it up!

I don't know where the dictionary is.

Big bookcase, right-hand side, top shelf.

Moments later, I found him searching the left-hand side of the bookcase. He has trouble telling left from right which I find odd. I admit, I jeered and the brute insisted I'd said the left side. I jeered more. Sometimes I'm just not very nice.

Later that day, Hannah called me out to see the roof of her car which was crawling with flying ants. They weren't doing much flying, just racing around, fighting, fornicating and attacking unlucky flies. In turn, I called Bert.

Come and see this.

What is it?

Ants, flying ants.

Pishmouls.

What!

Pishmouls. Ants.

You're making that up.

No! Where's the Concise Ulster Dictionary?

Big bookcase, on the left, top shelf.

I was astonished for he found it immediately and it turns out it is an Ulster-Scots word.

By the way, if anyone is looking for a copy of the Concise Ulster Dictionary the cheapest one on Amazon is £149.75. Abe Books has it at £120. Obviously, mine is not for sale. 

Cleo's First Trip to the Seaside

 

On Thursday, Hannah and Evie, myself and Ziggy took Cleo to see the sea for the first time in her life.

She was perturbed at first by the waves rolling in but it didn't take her long to realise that they weren't going to harm her.

Soon she was running to meet them and to seek out sticks.

There was a tough minute or two when a big dog chased her (no photos). She ran away, yelping, tail between her legs and was tumbled into the sea by the big dog. It was very big, I think a Newfie. He was a pup too, only playing but Cleo didn't know that. 

Another bit of fun in the waves and she'd forgotten all about it.

We went to Waterfoot Beach which is a lovely place - a good long beach, not too many people and a boarded walk through the dunes with lots of wildflowers and butterflies. We spotted a small copper but it was too fast for my camera.

On the way back we stopped in Carnlough for snacks. I left Ziggy and Cleo in the car for around five minutes. When I got back there was a French tourist standing by the car and Cleo trying to make her escape from the boot. He said, 

Is open. It trying to escape.

I thanked him for kindly looking out for her. A good day.

Check this out.

https://www.instagram.com/p/CviBwadO-v4/

In Which Heroic Bert Risks His Personal Safety In Order To Save An Insect

 

Giant horntail

Scientific name: Urocerus gigas

The giant horntail is a massive sawfly that is also known as the 'giant woodwasp' or 'greater horntail wasp'. A relative of the wasps, the female is black and yellow and has a long, stinger-like tail that is actually her ovipositor, which she uses to lay her eggs into wood, particularly pine. The larvae live in the wood of pine trees, where they spend up to five years developing. Found near pine woods, or places where pine timbers are used. The Wildlife Trust

Yesterday, whilst in the woodshed, Bert tripped over a log, fell over and hurt his hip. He said he was unable to save himself as he was carrying a newly emerged woodwasp to a place of safety.

The bad news is that he's a bit stiff and sore, and the good news is the horntail is fine. Here's hoping that she finds her way back to the wood to begin another generation of these gorgeous insects.