Enraged

I've been trying to make a post about why I lost my temper with a visitor to our home when he expressed unasked for views supporting the Orangeman in the White House. This, despite knowing that my political alignment leans strongly to the left. But what really pissed me off was when he asserted that RFK Jr was the best person to have charge of the health department. His reasoning? Because Kennedy is an old man, yet he has a six-pack and this must mean he 'looks after himself' therefore best man for the job in hand.

How does one argue with that? I didn't even try. It was too stupid.

Instead, I said something like this,

Have you any idea what if feels like for me to sit in my own home and listen to you and people like you spouting your stupid shit? Do you know that I so often wish that I could just say, there's the fucking door, why don't you just fuck off!

Then I stormed out, to sit it out until he had the decency to leave.

Which he did, almost immediately.

I heard Bert in the kitchen, putting the kettle on. He looked quite unperturbed.

I said,

Has he gone?

Yes. He said to me, tell Nelly I'm sorry I offended her.

And what did you say?

I said, you didn't offend her. You enraged her.

Is it any wonder I don't have much to say about politics in this blog. I'm just not cut out for it.

I thought of finding a picture of that oul fella with the six-pack to illustrate this post but any I saw were too horrid. Instead, a picture of Cleo running through a wood with a stick in her mouth. Her ears don't normally look like that. Nice capture.

Birthday Cake

It's sad if the birthday girl has to make her own cake, so I asked Bert to do it. All I had to do was choose the recipe, buy the ingredients, set everything out for him and go take a Duolingo lesson or three. 

I forgot to photograph the cake but the Hummingbird Bakery Cake Days book has a very nice picture which is almost exactly how Bert's cake turned out. 

It was yummy although the baker himself said,

Too much frosting and far too sweet.

Cleo had no complaints. Again no photograph, but if I had grabbed my camera when I caught her on the table snarfing my cake I could have captioned it, 

Le chien est sur la table et elle mange mon gateau !

Thats about my level in French. It might be a while before I can tackle that French translation of Apeirogon.

A Week In Pictures

 

Above, are my latest purchases from our local Oxfam shop. To be added to the To Read pile. The Richard Flanagan is for Bert. Its subject matter might be too harrowing for me.

The two youngest members of our animal family. They have a peculiar relationship. One minute it's all lovey-dovey, the next... battle royal. Earlier today Chico was trailing Woody around the kitchen floor by the throat. Woody seemed to be taking masochistic delight in it. As I said, peculiar.

Thanks to a few pleasant blue sky days, I was enjoying the garden again. 

After a couple of years in the wilderness, things were taking shape. Even Bert was showing an interest. 

But today. Horrible. Wind, blustery rain, everything being blown about. What I'd give for even three pleasant days in a row.

Which doesn't put the snails off. I've just pulled five of them away from my newly planted nasturtiums. The two pictured are engaging in snail foreplay.  

I am literally experiencing empty nest syndrome. Since my last post the spotted flycatchers have flown away. They are still around, somewhere. I saw them a couple of times but oh how I miss hearing them cheeping and watching the parents fly to and fro answering their pleas for food.

They were not the only ones crying to be fed. A couple of nights ago, after I'd gone to bed, Bert strolled towards the lane. He heard the young owls calling and because he could hear them (he's pretty deaf) knew they were close. He must have disturbed them as they left their perch and flew over his head followed by a parent. I was so jealous when he told me this.

The next night I went to the same spot. I heard the young owls squeaking and then the answering call of the adult long-eared owl. That sounded like a gruff bark. Perhaps that call was meant as a warning. I didn't get to see the owls but was pleased to hear them.

Our snails weren't the only creatures caught in the sexual act.

Lilioceris lilii (Scarlet lily beetle) found fornicating on lilies. 

I've learned a lot about these little pests this past week. They're not native to these islands and have only been around since the 1990s. They have a high sex drive, and lay hundreds of eggs, they squeak when threatened and their grubs hide in squelchy blobs of their own black excrement. They also perform back flips when disturbed, land on their backs and hope not to be spotted as they present their black undersides.

The grubs which survive me will, when fully fed, hide in the soil and emerge next spring and so it begins for another year.

Nice sharp shadows on one of the sunnier days this past week. More of that, please.

In Which I Try Out AI

But let me be clear. I'm trying out Artificial Intelligence not Insemination.

"In the tranquil village of Cullybackey, where the scent of herbs mingled with the laughter of children at play, there lived a woman named Nelly – a guardian of the earth and a lover of all things green. With her hands as skilled as a surgeon's and her heart as tender as a mother's, Nelly tended to her garden with care and devotion, her fingers dancing among the leaves and petals like a symphony conductor guiding an orchestra."

So went the opening paragraph of one of my first and, probably, only attempt at trying out a free version of Ch@tgpt. I don't know what the app was channelling. Maybe Martha Finley? Nadine Dorries?

So I won't be doing that again.

On to the important news of the day. Our pup, Cleo is a year old day. She shares her birthday with her many siblings, also Francis Galton, Johann Strauss, Araucaria (still missed), David Austin, June Brown, Iain Banks, John McEnroe, and The Weeknd. An eclectic crew you'll agree.

Cleo had a lovely day tussling with her young friends Chico and Woody, playing with her red Kongs and chewing her favourite busted tennis ball and, because it was a special day, she got five chips from Frews in Ahoghill.

A Tale of Two Bullfinches

 

Possibly the same female taken a couple of years ago

First thing this morning I was out looking for survivors from the fox attack but there were none to be seen, just another area filled with feathers from a kill. That is at least two hen’s worth of feathers so far.*

We had another avian incident today. Bert and I were in the sun room when we heard a thud on the window and I saw a small bird falling to the ground. When I looked out, the bird, a female bullfinch, was standing on the ground, looking stunned. I wondered if I should just leave it there but, spotting Hannah coming back from her walk in the woods, with three dogs and two cats in tow, I thought it would be better to take the little bird out of harm’s way. I set it in the middle of the rhododendron hedge and went to make sure that the cats were kept indoors. When I got back, there was Cleo, trotting along with the bullfinch in her mouth. She gave it up willingly and her soft mouth had done the bird no harm. For its own safety I placed it in a cardboard box with a cooling rack on top.

Then after fifteen minutes or so Bert took it outside where it flew up into a hawthorn tree. A male bullfinch was perched further up the tree as if keeping guard. The female stayed for around 20 minutes and then was gone. I checked the bottom of the tree for signs of its fall but no bullfinch.

What a day for that wee bird.

Flies into a window and brains itself.

Is gathered up by a human and placed in a hedge that it doesn’t normally frequent.

Is carried off in a dog’s mouth.

Is imprisoned.

All being well she will survive this experience and go on to raise a brood or two. Maybe even three.

*The third killing site was discovered just outside the hen run. My lovely Jacqueline.

This may well be the same male bullfinch who waited for her today. Apparently bullfinches pair for life.

Walking in the Woods

Over Christmas and the New Year I got out of the way of walking in the woods. Too busy. Busy cooking, busy eating, busy entertaining. Hannah was much more diligent. Unless she has an all-day work commitment she takes Cleo walking. Rain, snow or shine. Cleo doesn't mind. Pippin does mind and she'll only go out if it's dry underfoot.

Pippin is a walking cat just as Caps, Harry and Holly were before her. Fred didn't care for walks and we wondered whether Woody would be up for it. Today we found out. Hannah got the Dunlop wellies on, Cleo's cue to get very excited. It has been so soggy lately that Pippin has been avoiding the wood but today it was frosty, the mud was hard and she decided to go with them as did Woody, for the first time ever. Pippin showed him the ropes, which paths to take, which trees to climb. He had a great adventure, came back ravenous and ready for a good long nap. 

These past two frosty days I've been back in the woods too. Today I met Bert and the dogs on the lane returning from a walk. Jess went on home with Bert but Cleo came with me for another walk, her third of the day.

When we returned I said to Bert,

Y'know if we'd met a stranger on the lane, maybe some devil, horns, cloven hooves the works, I'm sure she'd have went walking in the woods with him too.

Wreck The House

 

Having young animals in the house is wonderful fun but it also makes for a lot of work and expense as their idea of having a good time is wrecking the place.

This is Cleo's work. And that is the spare room. The GOOD spare room. A new duvet is needed. She chewed through my Ikea cotton duvet cover to get at the foamy stuff but I think I can mend it as it is only a small hole. I will be able to use another Ikea cover to patch it. The hole she made in that one was big enough to fit the round head of a bull elephant so I'll use it for another sewing project. Though it's a pity about my fabric scissors. Someone (Bert?) got hold of those while I was away and used them for some plant-related purpose. It seems that Cleo and Woody aren't the only ones wrecking the place.

Travel Anxiety

I'm not much of a traveller and when I do get around to it I am filled with anxiety. For a start, I'm never sure I'll even be allowed on the plane. So what if the plane falls out of the sky. If I get to board I will be as happy as Larry.

So, all being well I will get on a plane tomorrow and I will visit with my Norfolk family for four days. Then I will take a train to London and visit London Sister and Ganching for three days.

Actually this time I'm not that anxious at all. Oh dear! Hope that's not a bad omen. It's OK. I'm anxious again.

Today, my last day at home for a week, I packed, cleaned the hen house, watered the plants and binge-watched Bodies on Netflix.

I cannot wait an entire week to see how it ends.

I wonder if Cleo will miss me? I know Woody will.

 

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/

After The Rain

I said to Bert today that I might ask one of our metal worker friends to beat me out some sort of protective breastplate, maybe re-purposing an old tin tray or two of the sort that used to be in every public house.

You might ask why I'd want such a thing and I am more than happy to tell you.

Yesterday was not a good day. My knee and hip were troubling me, one of those mornings when getting a sock on to my right food was a painful challenge. There was something going on in my mouth, I had to leave my partial denture out for most of the day for there was no Bonjela in the house. But worst of all, I was tired and worn out, had no energy for anything, everything was an effort.  I felt decrepit. I used to think that the worst thing about getting older was becoming less lovely to behold. Wrinkles, droopiness, stoopiness, greyness - that sort of thing. How foolish I was for now I couldn't care less about that. I just wish I had some of the liveliness and energy I had in my earlier decades. 

Back to my desire for a breastplate. I did my very best to shift my flat mood, took my favourite book to the polytunnel and lay down on one of the many sofas that go there to die. It was bliss. Crows cawed, songbirds sang, it was so deliciously warm. I may have dozed a little. The pup was running around, ripping one of the sofas apart, I paid her no mind, so relaxed... then rudely awakened as she sprang on top of me, right on top of my right breast. It was agony.  Like being poked hard in the bosom by a wooden staff. 

So there I was, sore mouth, sore hip, sore knee, sore boob, no wine. I  managed to stay up until after ten, watched a very silly programme with Nicola Walker then went to bed with a cup of tea and two paracetamol.  

And delighted to wake up this morning with hip, knee, mouth and boob much improved. I still think the breastplate is a good idea as I'm going to take even more naps in the polytunnel and I am sure the pup plans to take more running leaps on to anyone foolish enough to lie prone in her vicinity.

It's All About Cleo

 

Cleo has been enjoying the summery weather as much as anyone - riding the quad with Bert...

Meeting Arlo for the first time. They had a lot of fun. He's just a few weeks older than her and they are going to be great friends.

She went to Bracknamuckley Wood for the second time. Although it might be the last time for a while as the Bann is moving slowly these hot, dry days and something floating at the edge looks like the blue-green algae (not really an algae) that can be lethal for dogs.

In other news, we had a hectic weekend. I cooked my first vegan meal (a curry) for Hannah's friends on Friday. And on Saturday we had Marty and Jazzer, Arlo and Dora for a sleepover. Other visiting dogs included Phoenix, Pippin, Tegan and Rex. The yard was a total health hazard.

Plans for this week are looser. Tomorrow is family dinner which will need to be yummy to console Zoe for the damage Rusty did to her potato rigs. Wednesday is a funeral and Thursday Evie, maybe Martha. We will need to make plans for Portrush. The girls have told me they are still not too old for the annual trip to Curry's Fun Park* 

*Formerly Barry's.

Oh The Excitement

 

Cleo will be going to Portglenone tomorrow to receive her next inoculation, get chipped and consult the vet about a rather embarrassing problem. We don't like to talk about it but she did have her first bath this evening using 'special' shampoo and we have changed her name to Fleo.

I have spent the last couple of days watching the results of the local elections come in and got very excited by it all. Only two of my preferences were elected, numbers 1 and 4. Our area, Bannside had the highest turnout in the area. It's a pity they mostly voted for the Dinosaur Parties.

When I was a kid I thought that the wearing of spectacles signified a high intelligence. If so, Evie (above) must be very clever as she is wearing six pairs at once. She did hear this weekend that she has been accepted to her first choice of grammar school. Well done Evie.

The excitement continues. Tomorrow I will be purchasing a new phone. Miss Sara will be coming with me to ensure I do nothing foolish.

P.S. I'm sure that's not a strong drink in Bert's right hand. It's probably indigestion medicine.

Coronation Weekend

They were my second favourite socks. They were comfortable and just putting them on cheered me up. Cleo chewed the toe out of one and they are now in the bin.

This log basket was a 31st birthday present from Kerry Sister. It's been around a long time. Up until a few days ago it was in tip-top condition. Then Cleo fell to it with her wee needly teeth.

Well might she look hang-dog. She just got a telling-off for bullying Pippin who is far too soft with the pup. She should take lessons from Fred who will take no nonsense from Cleo.

 

Then we had the pleasure of Martha's company for three nights. Her fracture prevented her from going on a planned camping trip with her family so she spent it with us. I took her for lunch at Creative Gardens which was delightfully empty thanks to the CrownFest in London. Who'd have guessed that the folk who frequent upmarket garden centres would be the sort of people glued to their screens when there's a bit of monarchy-related pageantry going on.

Then, taking advantage of the quiet highways, we motored to Antrim so Martha could meet Marty and Jazzer's new pup. His name is Arlo, he is two weeks older than Cleo and quite a lot bigger. We expect to see a great deal of him in future months.

Whilst at the Banjos, we called into Marty's music room. Although it has the look of a pub about it no strong drink was served.

I really like what Marty has done with the mirrors from Pearlie's old dresser.

I had mentioned to Martha that Antrim had a really good sweet shop, well worth a visit so that's where we went next. The customer service was first class despite Martha taking ages to decide what she wanted. 

Saturday night was pizza and wine/fruit juice and The Big Lebowski. 

Sunday was a quiet day for us as Martha went on a jaunt to Montalto with Auntie Hannah and her friends. Martha didn't do too badly for outings for a girl on crutches. 

And what of the Coronation? Didn't see a bit of it. That's two in a row I've missed now. Though I did see some photographs. Their crowns did not become them. 

And What Of The Pup?

 

 And what of Cleo?

Cleo is, without doubt, the cheekiest, baddest, rudest, filthiest, most villainous pup we have ever met.

She is also the sweetest, funniest, smartest and most adorable pup in the world.

So really, she’s just an average pup.

To give an example of what we are living with I’ll tell you about this morning. I came down and there were no pees or shit on the floor. When I took her outside she peed straight away. I was delighted with her, gave lots of praise, then brought her inside to fetch a reward. And she got so excited about getting a treat that she made another little puddle on the floor. I never paid it any notice as I didn’t want to confuse her.

About twenty minutes later she deposited a little heap on the kitchen floor then another very long thin one which turned out to be a strip of black silage bale wrapping. Bloody farmers. That wrapping gets everywhere. Were it up to me I'd ban it.

She goes upstairs to see Bert and I go about my morning routine, drinking coffee, doing Wordle, drinking more coffee, finishing my book.*

Then I go upstairs. She has chewed lumps out of my special knee cushion I use when the old knees are playing up. That's twenty quid she owes me. There is a shredded toilet roll all over the floor and a pair of knickers on the stairs. She has pulled the towels off the dryer and pruned my geranium. I thought Bert was keeping an eye on her but he's fast asleep.

Evie asked me this afternoon,

Do you love her yet?

I replied,

Nearly. It will take another couple of weeks still.

Black plastic silage wrapping is not the only thing that annoys me. People who mow the grass verges in front of their houses is a pet hate. Their need to be ‘tidy’ will be the ruination of the natural world.. Also, there is nothing attractive about shaved yellowing grass.

I had to buy vegetable seeds this morning. Our closest garden shop is in Galgorm Castle grounds. The verges there are cut about six feet on either side of the road, the rest left wild. It was a sea of cuckoo flower cardamine pratensis and was so lovely to see. When I was a child meadows weren’t as scarce as they are today and cuckoo flowers were abundant at this time of the year. I didn’t know then that the orange tip butterflies, so commonplace then, were dependent on the cuckoo flower as a breeding plant. So, more wild areas, less shaved verges and more butterflies, moths and pollinating insects.

This is when I find Cleo most lovable

*The book I finished this morning was The Silence of the Girls by Pat Barker and I really enjoyed it. A tough read in parts but well worth it. 

That Was The Week That Was

My Anglo-Irish visitors arrived on Sunday evening. I met them at the airport where James was one of the first off the plane. He jumped up and down with excitement when he spotted me. I would have liked to do that too but, y'know, knees...

I told him,

We don't have the van anymore. We have another car.

He is obsessed with motor vehicles

He said,

Is it a Tesla?

He is particularly obsessed with Tesla cars and was disappointed that Santa Claus did not bring him one at Christmas. This is despite him being ten years too young to hold a driving licence.

I told him it wasn't a Tesla and he asked,

Is it a Landrover?

Fraid not, James. It's a Jeep.

Monday

We had an at-home day. Evie and her parents came out after lunch. Martha had a prior engagement, a sleepover birthday party which sounded exciting. There was an Easter Egg Hunt in the woods and all three children returned laden with chocolate eggs.  

It was lovely to have my three daughters all together and half-listen to the buzz of conversation between them. I made a curried fish pie. Emily told me she hated it. What's not to love about a five-year-old with strong opinions? James has particular food requirements and supper for him is either spag bol or Weetabix. He chose Weetabix. I didn't mind. 

On Tuesday Hannah and I had planned a visit to Portglenone Forest and a picnic with all four of the grandchildren. Zoe intended to spend the day planting native trees in the wood. This didn't happen. When she arrived at the sleepover house to pick Martha up she found that Martha had just had a trampolining accident and had injured her foot so it was off to Accident and Emergency with them. Hannah and I took the rest of the children to Portglenone and Martha was very much missed.

Wednesday

Everyone except Nellybert and Hannah went to the Titanic Experience. Martha had her foot in a cast and she got a complimentary wheelchair. There was a slight worry that they might bump into Joe Biden and get caught up in traffic jams but this did not happen. The President was in a different part of town. I'm told that they did see a huge amount of police on the motorway and it was obvious that they were in riot vehicles as many of them bore the scars of rocks on their bodywork. Happily, there was no trouble in the city during Biden's visit. 

James was most impressed with Belfast. Under his direction, we spent a couple of hours making a city. This involved using all my printer paper and a bunch of Sharpies and drawing buildings and shops and placing cars in the streets.

I was impressed by his drawing of Goliath.

Someone said,

Isn't there a church?

James wanted a church so I said I'd draw one. He said he wanted a graveyard too so he drew the gravestones and the statuary. He's keen on graveyards too and visited two when we were in Portglenone.

That was the last evening I had with my youngest grandchildren as it was off to the airport again on Thursday morning. It was sad to see them go but I made a promise to visit them all during the Autumn half-term which isn't that far away.

The Rest of Thursday

I did nothing. Leitrim Sister came round in the evening to pick up Lulu. I forgot to mention that we were looking after Lulu during the Anglo-Irish visit and she was a great favourite with the little ones. That dog deserves a medal for what she put up with.

Friday

We had the big girls out to help us collect Cleo. Yes. It was time for Cleo to come live with us. Some might say it was a shame that James and Emily didn't get to meet her but I think she had a lucky escape. James did actually get to meet her as Katy called briefly at Laura's house to see the puppies and James got down on the floor and rolled around with them to the slight consternation of his hosts. Emily missed this as she was asleep in the car.

Cleo's First Night

We were going to start her off in a crate and she cried all night. Bert had to go down and comfort her and I heard nothing. It must be hard when a pup is used to eight other familiar bodies to have to sleep alone.

Saturday

Martha and Evie were out again and Zoe, as she still had some trees to plant. While she was doing that the girls and I drove into town to buy Judy a new basket and a few other bits for the pup. Cleo got a lot of attention that day. 

No crate on Saturday night. She slept in Judy's new bed with Judy on the sofa beside her and there wasn't a peep out of her.

Today

Cleo has had a busy day helping Bert in the polytunnel. I think she will sleep well tonight. So will I.

Did And Didn't

 My sister regularly blogs Ten Things I Did Today. So here's my take.

Three Things I Didn't Do Today

Whilst donating at the Charis charity shop in Magherafelt I didn't buy a thing even though there were some plates I fancied. I already own plates - lots of them.

Whilst passing Ditty's world-famous home bakery we didn't stop and buy delicious sausage rolls and traybakes. for I wasn't hungry, and neither was Bert. We had porridge, prunes and Greek yoghurt for breakfast.

I still haven't opened my recent delivery from Naked Wines. I intend to wait until Friday for that. Or perhaps Thursday.

Some Things I Did Do

Watched the latest puppy video from Laura about a dozen times. 

Also watched the third episode of the cop show set in Belfast.

I cannot share the video but it featured the pup's father outside playing with his babies. He is barely a year old himself (it wasn't a planned pregnancy) and he enjoys having nine new playmates. That's Jet in the picture surrounded by some of his offspring. Our pup, Cleo, is the fat one with the turquoise collar.

Cleo

 

Evie said she'd never held such a young dog before. She is cuddling Rosa. Martha has Belle, mostly black and almost invisible. Bert has his pick, our pup, on his lap. 

HER NAME IS CLEO!

Then mother dog Tilly joined the company.