No Excitement and a Wee Catch Up

 No Excitement

Someone asked me today if anything exciting going on in my life. I replied that there was not and that I was glad of it.

So, definitely, no excitement to report on the blog since the last time I properly updated and that was the day we found out that quite a lot of people in the United States feel that they had not had enough of Donald Trump. Since then I deactivated ‘that’ platform and have resolved to take a break from the news.

I am also taking a Duolingo break and have been reading more. And sorting books as there are more books in this house than shelves to hold them and I have shelves enough to hold more than a thousand books. It’s going well. I’ve got as far as Proust and Pullman and both those authors are getting to stay. For now. I’ve filled three boxes for Tesco’s charity bookshelves. Keep an eye on the Ballymena store readers, it’s going upmarket.

Wee Catchup

As usual, there were visitors. Stand out was the Saturday that Martina and her children called with us. Despite it being a damp, late Autumn day the kids had a great time swinging, trampolining and feeding Clint’s calves. They are lovely children and I believe they enjoyed themselves as much as their mum used to when she was a little’un.

An evening at Ballymena Academy to see Martha and a host of incredibly talented young people in their school musical, The Addams Family. It was a great evening. Martha had two sets of grandparents, her parents and her sister to support her. Fun fact – every Martha in the school (all three of them) took part in the show.

There were two birthday suppers. Bert made both cakes. A Chocolate Guinness cake (Nigella) for Evie and a carrot and ginger cake (Hummingbird) for Dave. Both were delicious but Dave’s could have done with more ginger. Dave likes ginger.

Then we had a lovely evening at Les and Dawn's. They cooked us delicious Chinese food. And were great craic as always. A good night.

There were two trips to Belfast. St George’s Market on Remembrance Sunday. Hannah drove. We walked past City Hall just before 11 am but were too far away to spot Michelle. The second visit was by train to Botanic. I walked to the Palm House, bought some jeans in the Oxfam shop and did not buy a single book. But I did finish reading The Remains of the Day on the journey back and forth. So good.

Then the snow came. So pretty, so boring. The dogs, especially Chico, adored it and even old Judy had to get out for a jolly good sniff and a plod around. Now we are waiting to see what Storm Bert brings. Leitrim Sister messaged me to say that I should tell Bert to wind his neck in.

Monstera Deliciosa (Tales From A Room)

I look back at this picture taken Christmas 1976 ( I was 23) and it brings back so many memories. That dress. Floral, bought from the Go Gay Boutique (yes, really!) in Lower Mill Street, Ballymena. It was floor length, fashionable then and showed a lot of cleavage which I was shy about hence the long fringed shawl. Silly to be shy, for I had a most magnificent bust. But unlike maxi-dresses and fringed shawls,  bosoms were not so fashionable back in the mid-seventies.

Who was the guy in the background? Somebody sleazy, masquerading as respectable. He sired a child back then that he ignores to this day. Shame on him. Nothing to do with me.

I remember that night so well because I was to meet a boy at that party. Someone I'd been seeing for a while, someone I thought I was in love with. Heck, I was in love with him in the way people are before they know what love is. He jilted me that night. Went off with someone else and broke my heart. I knew I'd been stood up when that picture was taken and I was pretending not to care.

The plant was a Swiss Cheese Plant, a Christmas gift from my friend Rosie. I had it for years.

Forty years later and a favourite haunt of mine is the Palm House in the Botanic Gardens in Belfast. There the Monstera Deliciosa plants are enormous. That picture only shows a few of the leaves at the base of the plant. That baby is more than ten foot tall. So I'm yearning to have one for myself. On my most recent visit to Ikea, I said to Zoe,

Should I?

And she says,

You should.

So I did.

Call back in several years when it's ten foot tall.

A Trip To Belfast

I managed a day out in Belfast today, my main objects being a visit to the newly refurbished Tropical Ravine in the Botanic Gardens, some new reading glasses from Flying Tiger and a present for Bert.

I had mixed feelings about the Tropical Ravine. There is no doubt that it needed the refurbishment, if only for the survival of some of the older plants in there but it has lost much of its former dilapidated charm. Now it seems less mossy, too modern. I much preferred it as it was.

The grounds outside the Ravine have had a makeover too, planted mainly with geraniums. I was pleased to see that I have in my own garden, all the varieties I spotted except 'Rozanne' and I want 'Rozanne'.

The Palm House was in disarray today with many plants pushed to the side for cleaning but the display of pelargoniums on the Museum side was spectacular. Lots of varieties that I don't have but would love to own.

My next stop was the vintage store on Botanic Avenue where I bought Bert two shirts. That was the present ticked off my list.

I lunched in the Linen Hall Library and it was very quiet in there. Then a bit of a wander around the city centre. I got some lace-up shoes I've been thinking about for a year or more and two pairs of readers in Flying Tiger. I was disappointed not to get the apple green ones I bought last time as I've had such a lot of compliments about them. My fashionable niece even advised that I should base my whole look around them.  I still have the apple green ones but Jess, the hallion, jumped on them as I was getting dressed for bed one evening and they don't sit right any more. Three quid glasses just cannot handle being pounced on by sprollies.

There was a bit of time to kill before getting the train so I had a drink in Robinsons. I took it outside and as I sat there I thought of how thirty years ago a person might be taking quite a risk sitting across from Europe's most bombed hotel (33 times in 25 years). Thankfully those days are over.

On the train home, I read the book I picked up in the Linen Hall Library charity shop. Letters between Nancy Mitford and Evelyn Waugh. It was rather 'laugh out loud' in parts but so prejudiced against Jewish people. That was shocking. Or maybe it was just Lucian Freud? Still appalling. It was written by a Mosley, so obviously shameless.

I got Bert to try on his shirts as soon as I got home and was pleased that he liked them. He especially liked the denim, a vintage Ben Sherman, so much that he kept it on and went out to clarinet practice still wearing it. That's never happened before and I've been buying him clothes for more than thirty years.

A Sociable Weekend

Nellybert have had a particularly sociable weekend and have not let the snow keep us back. Not a bit of it.

On Friday I went for coffee with one of my co-grannies. For thanks to our modern ways (divorce and re-partnering), many of today's children have more than the requisite two of each. Later that evening I met up with two cousins, one from New Zealand and one from Hong Kong and their respective husbands. Also, there was a second-cousin and his wife that I was meeting for the first time. We had an excellent evening of eating, drinking and generally catching up. No photographs were taken by me. 

Maybe I was just a wee bit tired the next day but not too tired to take a walk up the snowy back lane with four dogs and a cat. See photographs.

In the afternoon we were visited by co-grandparents Mick and Linda. No photographs were taken by me.

Today we called on some friends who were trapped in their house by snow. We brought some essential supplies and were given coffee and wine. I took this photograph of their Christmas cactus which is splendid enough to be given a place in the Palm House.

While we were there our friends were called upon by a young, red-headed man who was delivering a tonne of firewood. The young man was unable to drive his van up the steep, slippery and snow-packed driveway. Our friend ( a frail pensioner) had been trying to clear the drive of snow but the young man (still shaking from the great feed of rum he had imbibed on the previous night) took the shovel from him and cleared it in quick time. It was amazing. Now our friends aren't snowed in anymore which is good as they have invited us for supper sometime soon and I'm looking forward to that unless Mrs, who reads this, tells Mr that I called him a frail pensioner. Only joking Rob! Sure you're only two years older than I.

Off home again to cook a plain man's dinner of mince, carrots and onions, boiled spuds and steamed broccoli with apple crumble and custard to follow. We had two plain men coming, one whose wife never boils spuds and another who only knows how to cook potato dauphinoise. Hannah is not a meat eater so I served her a healthy little dish of egg and chips which I believe she enjoyed. The meal was a great success except that Bert has started to crake on about never getting potato dauphinoise. No photographs were taken by anyone.

The Scooter Menace

Jazzer and I had our Works Do in Belfast on Saturday. We went to the Ulster Museum, the Palm House, had drinks in The Apartment and lunch in Actons. A very good day out but with one problem. Scooters!

The Palm House in Botanic Gardens is a tranquil place. There is always something wonderful to look at no matter the season. It is frequented by decent, civilised people and I never, ever go to that part of the city without calling in. But on Saturday that tranquility was disturbed by a brat on a scooter. He was around seven or eight and accompanied by a doting grandparent who looked on fondly as the little wretch sped around on his wheels whooping and yelling as he went. How I longed to warm his ears. The grandfather's of course as the child knew no better.

Then as we left the Palm House we were accosted by a six-month-old pup which leapt all over us with its muddy paws. The owner and young son were mortified - well, Dad was - son didn't give a hoot. But that was a different matter as the dog was in a park and was quite within its rights to be enjoying itself. We told the owner we weren't at all bothered, loved dogs, loved their dog and a very pleasant encounter it was.

Our next run-in with the scooter menace was in front of City Hall. A male youth, probably fifteen or so, on a scooter, ploughed into a crowd of us crossing the road and nearly knocked me down. I'm afraid I broke sweet little old lady ranks and called him a fucking idiot. The young hooligan was followed by another riding just as recklessly and I was really hoping for a third so I could knock him over. But there were just the two of them.

So it seems that scooters are a thing. I would have thought that teenagers were too old for them but it seems not. I plan to carry a stout stick the next time I go to Belfast. It would be worth the court appearance.

What we saw in the Ulster Museum

Day Out In Belfast

I wonder if you might guess from which Belfast station I alighted from this morning?

When I had done with all that I walked to a cinema in the Dublin Road to watch No Stone Unturned. It was an afternoon showing so the audience was small. All, apart from one young man, were middle-aged or older and afterward, it was noticeable just how affected everyone was as they left.


There was an hour to spare after that and I just walked. Walked and walked and walked. That may even have been the best part of the day.

Busy Day

First of all, I baked this loaf. It had been rising all through the sleepy-time hours so I gave it a quick knockback, turned the oven on to high, took my coffee back to bed then baked it for thirty minutes exactly.

Sorted out my chickens, showered and went to Belfast.

Then straight to the Ulster Museum to look at the exhibition that wasn't child-friendly, the Francisco Goya 'The Disasters of War'. It was harsh. I also took another look at recent Irish history section, the part that depicts what some call 'The Troubles'. I have a friend, a Republican and Sinn Fein activist, who finds this part of the museum anodyne but I am always affected by it and often tearful. The so-called Troubles were my entire adult life from around fifteen years old until they ended, if they even have ended. Maybe my friend is right. I'm sad and sniffly at the Ulster Museum but in our other city at the Museum of Free Derry  I was in pieces.

As always it was impossible to resist the Palm House which is so close to the museum and the delights of the exotic and wonderful plants within. Just one niggle - why aren't they named. I always feel I don't know a plant unless I have its Latin name. I knew the Dizygotheca elegantissima, Passiflora caerulea, Crassula ovata and Monstera deliciosa because I have or have had those plants at some time but what's this?

Or this?

No doubt I'll find out some day.

It was a good day. I needed to get out on my own and when I got home the people I live in where in very good form (they had enjoyed a Nelly-free day) and the sourdough bread was very delicious indeed. 


Since posting this I had the following message on Facebook from a South African friend.

The yellow flower is a Hibiscus that is a genus of flowering plants in the mallow family Malvaceae. They grow prolifically in SA.