An Apology

 Springhill, March 2026

Dear Reader,

I am very sorry - very, very sorry that I have been neglecting you. The truth is Nelly's Garden is very, very old (for a blog) and is getting tired. It's not that she wants to actually kick the bucket - just that she wonders if there is any point in rambling on and on about dogs and crocuses (croci?) and other stuff even though the internet is full to the brim of people rambling on about their opinions, dogs, obsessions and that is even before AI gets properly started.

I will try to do better. That is if you can bear to listen to my nonsense.

By the way, I despise Drump, Fartage, Netanyahoo and if that bothers you, you can do one.

Anyway, in the meantime, here are some photos of the croci (crocuses?) in my garden.

Kind regards, 

Nelly.

 

In Which I Ask ChatGPT Some Questions

 Who writes the blog Nelly's Garden?

ChatGPT said:

The blog Nelly's Garden is authored by a woman named Nelly, who has been sharing her life experiences and reflections since 2004. As of August 2024, she celebrated the 20th anniversary of her blog, noting that she might be "the oldest blogger in Cully" and perhaps even the only one, given the decline in personal blogging over the years. nellysgarden.blogspot.com

Nelly's writings encompass a wide range of topics, including gardening, family life, ageing, and personal anecdotes. She often shares stories about her daily activities, such as jury service, and her observations of nature, like the appearance of a blue butterfly in her garden. Her posts are characterized by a candid and humorous tone, providing readers with an intimate glimpse into her life and thoughts.

While specific details about Nelly's full name or background are not publicly disclosed, her blog serves as a personal journal that resonates with readers who appreciate authentic and heartfelt storytelling.

Who writes the blog Ganching?

ChatGPT said:

The blog Ganching, hosted at ganching.typepad.com, is authored by a writer who uses the pseudonym "Ganching." While the author's real name isn't publicly disclosed, insights from fellow bloggers suggest that she is an Irishwoman, likely from Northern Ireland, who now resides in London. secondat.blogspot.com

The blog features a blend of personal reflections, cultural commentary, and observations on daily life, often delivered with wit and a keen eye for detail. Topics range from travel experiences and book reviews to humorous anecdotes and musings on language. The author also shares her photography, adding a visual dimension to her narratives.

The term "ganching" itself is defined on the blog as:

1. To talk in a halting, agitated way

2. Talk stupidly

3. Of a dog snapping of the teeth

4. Of a horse biting

This playful definition sets the tone for the blog's content—conversational, candid, and occasionally self-deprecating.

While Ganching isn't updated as frequently as it once was, the archive remains a rich tapestry of stories and insights, offering readers a window into the author's experiences and perspectives.

 Do Nelly and Ganching know each other?

ChatGPT said:

Yes, Nelly (of Nelly’s Garden) and Ganching (of ganching.typepad.com) are not only acquainted but appear to share a close friendship. Their connection is evident through multiple references in Nelly’s blog.

For instance, in a post from October 2024 titled Family Time, Nelly writes:nellysgarden.blogspot.com

“These past few days, I have had the pleasure of Ganching and Kerry Sister's company. They took a house close to where we are, and we were together for part of every day.” nellysgarden.blogspot.com

Additionally, a 2019 entry mentions a visit to The Braid museum with Ganching and another friend:nellysgarden.blogspot.com

“The photo and words are by Leitrim Sister who visited the Braid a few weeks ago with myself and Ganching.” nellysgarden.blogspot.com

These instances suggest that Nelly and Ganching not only know each other but have shared experiences and mutual acquaintances, indicating a longstanding and meaningful friendship.

Who are Nellybert?

ChatGPT said:

"Nellybert" is the affectionate moniker that Nelly, the author of the blog Nelly's Garden, uses to refer to herself and her partner, Bert. This portmanteau combines their names, symbolizing their partnership both in life and in the narratives shared on her blog.

Throughout Nelly's Garden, Nelly frequently mentions Bert, offering glimpses into their daily lives and shared experiences. For instance, in a post from April 2025, she recounts Bert's observation regarding her jury service:

"So why didn’t I? Bert says it’s fear of missing out. Maybe he’s right." nellysgarden.blogspot.com

Additionally, a 2006 blog entry titled "Overheard At Nellybert's" provides a humorous anecdote from their household, further illustrating their close-knit relationship:nellysgarden.blogspot.com

"Ben Banjo! Please tell me that's not your sister's knickers you're wearing!" nellysgarden.blogspot.com

These references showcase the warmth and camaraderie that define Nelly and Bert's relationship, making "Nellybert" a fitting representation of their shared life.

Which is Nelly's favourite dog?

ChatGPT said:

Nelly, the author of Nelly's Garden, has shared deep affection for several dogs over the years, but two stand out as particularly cherished: Danny and Rosie.

🐾 Danny – "Best. Dog. Ever."

Danny was Nellybert's first beloved pooch, described unequivocally as the "Best. Dog. Ever." He was with them for nearly seventeen years before tragically passing away in 2004 under the wheels of Bert's van. His memory is honored with narcissi planted on his grave, reflecting the deep bond they shared. nellysgarden.blogspot.com

🐾 Rosie – The "Wee Special Bitcher"

Rosie, another cherished companion, was affectionately nicknamed "Scritchy" and "The Wee Special Bitcher." She was a favorite among family members, including Pearlie, Matty, and Bert's aunts. Her sudden passing in 2008 deeply affected the family, with Nelly noting that Bert was visibly emotional—a rare occurrence. nellysgarden.blogspot.com+1nellysgarden.blogspot.com+1

While Nelly has loved many dogs, Danny and Rosie hold special places in her heart, their memories vividly preserved in her writings.

An Update

 Daoine a chanann in éineacht le hamhráin, scriosann siad iad do na cinn atá ag iarraidh éisteacht leo*

I started October determined to update this blog more frequently but, as always, life got in the way and 'aussi' a little bit of Duolingo. I did not progress to the Diamond League last week and am trying to be more relaxed about it.

And! I finished two books. Short ones.

I still need to discover if marking the shells of garden snails with Tippex is a bad thing. My friend the naturalist says it is not and my missing snails have likely been eaten by thrushes. Maybe the markings make it easier for thrushes to see them? I should probably stop it. 

**created with the assistance of Google Translate

The Oldest Blogger

This blog, Nelly’s Garden is twenty years old today. Back when I started I believed I was the Oldest Blogger in the village and maybe I was. Two decades later I’m certain sure I’m the oldest blogger in Cully and maybe even the only one – for blogging is not what it used to be.

So, how did I spend my blog's big day? Quietly. My only outing was to the pharmacy to collect my meds. The rest of the day I spent tootling around the house and garden. There was one big excitement – a blue butterfly on the borage.

This year has been terrible for butterflies and moths. Usually, in August, we see lots of Red Admirals, Small Tortoiseshells and Peacocks. The month is nearly gone and I haven’t spotted one of those. A few whites and browns but that was that. So the blue one caused quite a stir. I’ve never seen one in our garden before. It was difficult to get a good photo ID as it flew quickly and kept its wings folded when it fed. But it was lovely in flight, almost as if some of the borage petals had taken wing.

I'm not sure which of the blues this is. I think maybe Holly Blue?

Other pictures taken after I got tired of chasing my solitary butterfly visitor.

New Zealand flax grown by me from seed collected in Fanad, Donegal. It might be a pest in the Antipodes but to me it is exotic. Sadly no starlings but they will come.

My new wine-coloured hydrangea. I bought it from Ben Vista and it cost me the price of a couple of decent bottles of wine (or three from Tescos). I treated myself to it as I'm currently taking a break from alcohol. 

And that concludes Nelly's twentieth birthday post.

Thanks for reading!

Upcoming Anniversaries

On the 16th August, Bert and I will have been legally married for 16 years. 

I wrote this post the week before our big day.

The fellows on the site are threatening to give me a 'doing' tomorrow. For those who might not know a 'doing' is a form of ritual humiliation visited upon a person who is about to embrace the matrimonial state. It can involve flour, water, balloons, bondage and a host of other embarrassments.

Obviously, I've informed them that under no circumstances need they dare come near me. After all, I am old enough to be their mother and it would be most undignified. I have cited Health & Safety regulations, the wrongness of wasting their employer's time and the promise that if one of them lays as much as a finger on me I'll be bringing charges of sexual harassment and assault.

I think they've got the message.

On the 27th of August this blog, Nelly's Garden will be twenty years old.

This was my first post.

I've been threatening to do this for some time now so while speaking to daughter one on the phone tonight I said "Tell me daughter, what shall I do?" She said "Go to Blogger." So I did and several moments later here I am writing my first post.

So shall I introduce myself? I am old enough to have three daughters all left home. I live in the country. I like flowers & dogs (among other things) I work in the 'caring professions' and I spend far too much time on computers.

Blogs are a recent thing with me. Daughter one has been doing it for a year and I've been pondering it for 6 months. Where it will take me I know not.

Then, on an unspecified date near the end of this month, the First Daughter celebrate her half-century. And it only seems like a week or two since she was 40. Where does time go??

There were no blogs back in 1974. No mobile phones, no laptops or internet. I may have written something in a diary. I don't believe she even had her photograph taken until quite a few days later. 

As you can see, I was very pleased with her.

And I still am.

Trawling the Archives Again

Last night Bert was trying to work out how long we've been living in our present house. He says,

I'm sure it must be thirteen years now.

And I say, 

I think it has to be more than that. We moved house not long after I began blogging and I've had Nelly's Garden much longer than thirteen years.

I do tend to use this blog as an aide-memoire, and God knows, I need one of those. I checked it out. Found out that come next month we will have been living at Springhill for sixteen years. I also realised that once again I'd missed Nelly's Garden's anniversary. Yes, folks, Nelly has been cultivating this particular Garden for seventeen long years. Of course, we all know by now that personal blogs are kind of over. It's all Twitter and Instagram now for the oldsters and Snapchat and TikTok for the youngsters but I don't care. I have a blog that's gearing up to do its 'A' levels and will soon be heading off to Uni. And if I get the chance I'll do it for another seventeen years.

Another thing I checked out while I was trawling the archives was mentions of parties and wild times. I'd assured the Wee Manny on Tuesday that I never blogged about the mad shenanigans he and we got up to back when we were young striplings in our fifties. I believed I was telling the truth. Well, turns out I wasn't and there are lots of accounts of those crazy nights. But no photographs. Glad to see I had some shreds of sense and decency.

I'll just throw this one in there. Some of the musicians (Bert is the one with the clarinet) that played at my birthday party eight years ago. 

Stats And Stuff

I have been writing Nelly’s Garden for 15 years, 4 months and 12 days. During that time there has been 3133 published posts which works out at a post every other day and we all know that’s not happening. So, what’s going on? What has changed over the past 15 years, 4 months and 12 days?

I became fifteen years older and a small bit wiser.

Back in 2004, I didn’t actually expect anyone but a few fellow bloggers to read the damn thing.

Now so many of those fellow bloggers have quit. Some of whom I greatly miss.

Then one becomes disheartened.

Gets to thinking, who even fucking cares what I blog?

Becomes self-conscious. People come up to me at funerals and address me as Nelly.

Run out of things to say.

My husband doesn’t read it.

Many of my friends don’t read it.

Sure I hardly even do anything anymore.


And some of the things we do are secret.


And I don’t want to offend anyone.


Peak blogging year was 2005 when I wrote 486 posts. What was going on in 2005? I had a job, there was a lot going on, a lot of material for blogging. Looking back, it’s a wonder Nelly's Garden didn’t get me the sack. Nowadays, with absolutely everyone on social media, Facebook, Twitter, Instagram most people tend to be much more careful about work-blogging.


My slackest year for blogging was 2013, just 99 posts that year. I vaguely remember feeling very flat. Matty had died in 2011 and that took a lot of getting used to. And we still had Pearlie, getting frailer and frailer and that was hard too. Bert tried to cheer me up by buying me a ticket to Vancouver and that was a good experience although there was no blogging from British Columbia. Martha and Evie were pre-school age then, always fun but tiring too. 

So here I am, in 2020, wondering how much longer I can keep this thing up. My sister, whose blog is nearly as old as mine, posts every day. And has a full-time job. I don't know how she does it. Actually, I do. Her life is more interesting than mine.

There! I've answered my own question. I just need to get a more interesting life. Either that or start spilling the secret stuff. Wish me luck.

This is the very first picture I posted to Nelly's Garden.

I Actually Quite Like Mondays

The weekend plan worked out well except Saturday turned out to be a very fine day so tiling was abandoned in favour of gardening.

We started a new flowerbed and most of the plants in the picture were planted, mostly verbascum and aquilegias. The rest of those pots were cleaned up and mulched. They are pines that Zoe grew from seed, a fig and some lilies. On Sunday Bert started the tiling and I tidied the garden.

That's a work in progress.

Today was another fine day. Bert spent the morning on the tiling and I helped with the cuts by spraying water while he used an angle grinder. He forgot to tell me to be careful of flying dust and tonight I have a sore eye. Tomorrow he will be purchasing a tile cutter to finish the job.

I spent the afternoon making dinner and having little chat with the girls. Martha and I were looking at pictures on Flickr and she noted that I get a lot likes from 'Jean' and 'Ganching'.

Who is Ganching? 

I told her about blogs and blogging and that Ganching and I have been writing blogs since before she was born.

It might be fun to see what I wrote when you were born.

We found this from the day of her birth,

Today was always going to be a busy day. We'd planned to go visit, with a view to procuring, Kune Kune pigs. Later we'd be going to the Wee Manny's for a surprise birthday party.

What I didn't expect was hearing from Dave that Zoe has been safely delivered of a daughter, our first grandchild. She was a week earlier than expected - the impatient little thing!

So now I must go and wash the smell of pig from my person and get myself ready to visit Zoe, Dave and daughter.

And a few days later,

How fascinating this little human being is! And really, all she does is nurse and poo and burp and pull the most peculiar faces. I'm told she cries but, so far, never in my presence.

She is, of course, far more beautiful than the normal run of babies. She is, which goes without saying, already displaying signs of superior intelligence. And, for a creature barely a week old, she is amazingly strong and active and alert.

Am I besotted? I think I must be.

But I had an oven to attend to and salads to make and Martha wanted to read more. About ten minutes later she was able to inform me that I'd written hardly anything when her sister was born and that Evie was almost a year old before she featured in Nelly's Garden. Sibling rivalry. I told Martha that Flickr was where I'd put all my Evie pics. I hope I wasn't telling a lie.

Retro Blogging

Whilst messing around with the design feature on Blogger I have accidentally reverted to something referred to as 'classic'. I was warned that some design features might be lost, instead, I find that my Flickr links have come back. So I'll stick with it for a while as it reminds me of my youth. The following paragraphs were first posted in 2004.  So was the picture which has no connection with the post.

Drumkeeran Road

The Toome Incident

Yesterday I was driving through Toome village at between 15-18mph. I was intending to turn left into a supermarket car park. Ahead I spotted three young boys aged about six to seven looking as if they might run out in front of the car. My mother cried, “watch!” just as I started to brake and two of them darted out. Then the third that had hesitated took off. My feet went to the floor and I actually closed my eyes (a first while driving), as I did not want to see his little body hit by the car. He made it and Mother who had kept her eyes open said the car stopped with an inch to spare.

Then I was angry. I wanted to turn the car and give chase to the little bastards and have a word with them. Sensibly Mum advised me against this. We stopped in the car park outside the supermarket where I started to shake and cry. If I had been travelling just the smallest bit faster I would have hit that child.

So if in the future, anyone spots a white Astra driving through Toome like a snail, it will probably be Nelly. 

Every Picture: There was a wee doggy called Ziggy

Yikes! Less than ten minutes to write my daily blog post. Last night while Hannah was shopping online and I was doing a jigsaw (also online) Bert comes barging into our private. secret sitting room to read aloud from Yeats, and then wanted to discuss poetry. Honestly! You never get a minute's peace in this house.

Still, if I've only got eight minutes it will have to be poetry. It's the only thing I can dash off.

Here goes,

There was a wee doggy called Ziggy
Who grew most tremendously Biggy
No more does he Fly
You might well ask Why?
It's because he did scoff like a Piggy.

Fame At Last

It is always very heartening to realise that people actually read this blog. I've long been used to folk sidling up to me at country funerals and addressing me as 'Nelly' and only today I was in Tescos when one of the employees greeted me thus,

Good to see you wearing shoes that match!

Although I cannot beat Hannah's experience - for she was walking her little dog on the river path when a complete stranger came up to her and spoke to the dog,

Hello Ziggy!

She then said (rather shyly) to Ziggy's owner,

I read your blog.

The Daily Photograph 12

Above - some of the firewood that Evie, Martha and I collected from under the beech trees on Thursday. I was far too tired today to even take a single photograph never mind gather wood. That is what comes from attending two social gatherings in one day coincidentally both at the same hotel. The midday funeral reception were taken at the Dunsilly Hotel outside Antrim. The evening found us back at Dunsilly for a  wedding party. First go round we went in the front door, later on through the tradesman's entrance for we'd got a lift with the band. The backs of hotels are a lot different from front entrances I can assure you.

Sheena's funeral was very traditional, and very Tannaghmore which is just how she'd have wanted it to be. The choir sang all the old hymns, even a beautiful rendition of Tantum Ergo, a hymn I have always loved and which brought back memories of all the Benediction services we attended as children.

In the graveyard the subject of this blog was raised (it often is at funerals) by one of the cousins, who made sure to tell an old school friend all about its delights. This made me feel a bit worried as I was back in a comfortable way of thinking that there are just the three readers, Ganching, Grannymar and Brighid. And this oul blog is just a bit of nonsense I keep up out of a sense of duty.

The school friend asked,

How long have you been doing it?

And I replied,

Ten years, maybe eleven. 

Then I added, rather sadly,

And I never got offered a book deal.

And I thought to myself,

Nor even got short listed for the Irish Blog Awards. Hell damn the Irish Blog Awards. But at least I got to be part of the UK Web Archive. Then I noticed that even they stopped archiving The Garden four years ago. That must have been when I got boring. Sigh.

But back to the Dunsilly. The wedding party was excellent, lots of sparkling alcohol and nibbles. There were people of all ages from three months old to older than me. The craic was mighty. There were awkward moments. One when I'd just got myself a finger of wedding cake and then struck up a conversation with a very tall young man. I did not like to stuff cake into my mouth as I gazed up at him so held it casually in my hand. Then it started to melt. What else could I do but accidentally drop it on the floor and kick it under a chair. Actually there were probably a lot more sensible things I could have done but when the sparkling alcohol is in, the wit's out.

Blog-Block

In the (almost) eleven years since Nelly's Garden began I have found, time and time again, that the only way to overcome blog-block is to simply blog, write, put words together, whatever it takes.

What causes blog-block? For me it is,

Distractions.

Worries.

Lack of confidence.

Happiness.

I'm distracted by family, by reading, by my discovery of an American sit-com called Modern Family, and by gardening. These activities keep me busy and happy.

I'm worried about a pain in the left side of my skull that comes and goes. It is likely coming from a crick in my neck, or wrongly aligned pillows. It is probably not a brain tumour.

Lack of confidence? The more I read the more I realise how limited are my own writing skills. This morning, as I drove to Antrim I listened to part of a dramatisation of A Severed Head by Iris Murdoch. I started reading Murdoch when I was very young and I remember so little about it. Most of it must have gone over my head. I wonder what drew me to Murdoch? To find out I must return, starting with the first, The Nice and the Good which I read (with great enjoyment) when I was sixteen. And what am I reading now? The last novel in the Game of Thrones series. It's great fun, I'm a big fan, enough of a fan to wish that George R.R. Martin would get on with it.

Happiness. I really do believe that I am happier now than I have ever been in my entire life. And who wants to read a Happy Person blog? For instance, today was a wonderful day. Something happened that turned out far, far better than I could ever have hoped. All I did was drive my godson and his mum to a clearing day at our local college and, despite disappointing GCSE results, he got accepted on to a course that he really wanted to do. So very, very happy that I could help in the smallest way.

To finish, this August has been a great month. Not much of a summer in Northern Ireland but I had those two weeks in sunny Norfolk with my new grandson and his wonderful parents and lovely family days here at home,  and I had today and, despite a middling summer, the garlic, the broad beans, the raspberries and the purple turnips did amazingly well in Nelly's Garden. I'm looking forward to the blackberries.

Plundering the Archives

I'm finding this oul blogging lark hard going these days. In days gone past I'd be tootling about my daily business and thinking about all kinds of things to write about - these days, not so much. That's why it's great having an archive. When I can't think of a single thing to write about I can always plunder the archive. It seems that 10 years ago we were having this house renovated and were yet to move in. I also noted that 10 years ago I was a good deal more likely to write posts that might hurt people's feelings. Perhaps I should get back to that style of blogging.

The only thing this picture has to do with today's post is that it is from the 2005 archive. Poor Harry de Cat. We miss him still.

Tuesday, August 23, 2005

The Accidental Joiner

I was hoping that the most eventful happening of the day would have been my boss causing me to suffer bloggus interruptus. It was during my lunch hour but there was no way he could be sure as he wasn't there when the hour started. And I was in the middle of a really good reply to CyberScribe's spooky comment about Cully pubs. How does he know? Where is Greyabbey anyway? Oh Bert's just told me it's in County Down. So the muse deserted me and that's why my eventual reply was so lame Cybe ol' boy.

So that's my quota of italicised words used up for this post and from now on I will have to manage without them.

On returning home I decided to go and inspect the work going on in the new house. I was especially interested in seeing how the kitchen tiles looked and also wanted to see the flight of stairs leading to the attic floor. Seamus the joiner started on them yesterday and they were pretty much finished. There is a little health & safety type issue at the very top which I wanted to take a look at so I asked Seamus if they were safe to step upon. He gave the go ahead and I had my foot on the bottom step when James the electrician nabbed me with a query about the lights I headed downstairs to the room where Matthew was tiling. Matthew says,

"Where's Bert?"
"Down the road. What's up?"
"We've a bit of a problem here."
"Oh! What's wrong?"
"Bert's tin whistle has fallen into this bucket of tile cement."

We were just coming to terms with this disaster when the joiner's apprentice came in. He says,

"Where's Bert?"
"Down the road. What's up?"
"Seamus has cut himself with the electric saw."

And so he had. Apparently it had stuck and he was trying to dislodge it when it had jumped back and gouged a lump out of his knee. Both Matthew and James were urging me to take him to the local GP surgery. Feck's sake! These lads must think Dr Finlay practises in Cully. I said no for the first thing the local GP would say is, "you'll need to go to casualty with that" so that's what we did. Seamus was very stoical about the whole episode and says he'll be back at work tomorrow. They breed real men in Dunloy.

By the way that policeman is still reading my blog. He phoned me yesterday in his professional capacity and before he rang off he said, "Are you still off the drink?"

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Meanwhile in the present world Nellybert took a walk up the back lane at dusk and spotted Foxy's big red arse disappearing into the wood. We had interrupted his supper of fat pigeon. He took it with him, leaving the wings and a shiny, black poo behind him. Judy did not roll in it for which we were truly grateful.