A Fallen Sunflower and an Owl Dress

 You would think that this Thursday (with just the two girls) would be less hectic than last Thursday (with seven girls) but not so. Where two girls demand rather a lot of a Granny's attention, not to mention her spare cash, seven girls make their own fun and cost hardly anything.

It all began with a double booking. I arranged that the three daughters of a good friend should come over last week to hang out with Martha and Evie. What I didn't know was that there was an arrangement already in planning for the granddaughters to have two school friends over for a Wednesday night camp out.

Dave's Camp

They all got together around lunchtime and from then on we barely saw them as they raced around fields, fashioned rope swings, rode bikes, played with dogs, bounced on trampolines and built another camp under the beech trees from old furniture destined for the council yard. Okay, there were a couple of dramas. One went off to have sad times in the shepherd's hut because - y'know - stuff. And another one ripped her leg on some barbed wire and never flinched when it was cleaned with TCP. That one won an award at Irish dancing the following day despite her wound. All-in-all a good day and the adults were barely bothered at all.

Today was different but still enjoyable. They paid me more attention which was nice as I was almost completely ignored when their five friends were around. Evie was back at school for a half-day today so Martha and I went trawling the town for pre-loved vintage. In Martha's book two seasons ago New Look passes for vintage. She got some clumpy lace-up boots and a cream dress with a print of long-eared owls and a peter pan collar. Sounds weird but it is adorable. Ten pounds for both items. 

In other news, Martha begins at Ballymena Academy tomorrow. That came around quicker than I expected. 

Martha was always keen on mixing up her look. Emily has that dress now. Another fashionista in the making.

Evie's sunflower must have been 3.5 metres tall. It fell over yesterday, through the tomatoes and into the sweetcorn. The tomatoes were OK but we lost three sweetcorn plants. We're not too sad.

Fifteen Years

Brían came round tonight. We spoke of many things, mainly politics, religion and, briefly, this blog which is a little over fifteen years old. I said, no-one ever reads it except about six people in America and around 40 of my cousins. He said the main thing is that you keep on writing it and I expect he's right. Fifteen years is a long time in blog years. Some day I expect to get an award for the oldest blog in the world. I think Ganching might be in the running for that award too.

See Brían's name, with the fada - it's pronounced Bree-an. It took me a long time to get that right. I used to call him Bri-an. But I tried hard and eventually got it right. The only thing was, the guy in my local garage was Brian without a fada, pronounce him Bri-an, except I was trying so hard to call Brían Bree- an that I started to call Brian Bree-an too. Sort of egg-shelly thing that can only ever happen in Northern Ireland as Bri-an is most likely a Unionist (I never asked him) and Bree-an a staunch Sinn-Feiner.

Anyway, remembering that this blog is now in its mid-teens I looked back to a post from exactly 15 years ago. Bert was going camping with the fellows including Brían. If it hadn't been recorded I'd never have remembered it. Bert still hasn't got to grips with mobile phones. And I have no memories of that coffee morning other than I must have had two parents fifteen years ago.

6/9/2004

Camping

Friday night. What’s happening at Nelly’s then? Bert is preparing for a camping trip up and down Slieve Donard in the Mourne Mountains.

He is going with Martin and the gang. The boys do these macho things every now and then. The trip will involve physical exercise, whiskey and sausages. There may well be male bonding. Someone may read aloud from Hemingway. Ever supportive, Ian has called up to make sure that Bert is properly prepared. He has reminded him to charge his mobile phone, which Bert uses about once every three months. He uses it to make calls and when he has done so he always switches off so that he cannot be contacted. This is to preserve the battery charge.

Ian and Bert have erected the tent n the kitchen. They are lying in it. It is a two-man tent and they are testing this claim out. Should I be worried?

Saturday morning. Alone at last. Bert and Paddy have set off on their camping trip. I am going to a coffee morning and cake sale at Glenkeen. Natch Matty is going too. I will keep you posted. Hah!

27th September

I posted this picture from last weekend to Flickr and my sister, the girls Great-Aunt Jean commented,

I can see the influence of Honey magazine circa 1972!

I could see exactly what she meant.

Martha wears jersey cotton nightie, Ballerina by Cath Kidston. Unicorn wellies from Sainsburys. Evie wears jersey cotton nightie, Spray of Flowers by Cath Kidston. Wellies, model's own.

Photographs by Granny. Shot on location at Murlough Bay, County Antrim.

24th September

Camping at Murlough Bay was wonderful. Before we went we had supper from Morton's Fish and Chip shop. As always, it was a long wait so while Bert queued Martha, Evie and Granny went to the nearby playground. This was followed by a visit to Morelli's for four ice cream cones. Yummy. Then time to go to our camping site before it got too dark.

While I sorted out the sleeping arrangements Bert and the girls took a walk.

Evie only needed carrying for a few moments. Far more fun to be had on the ground.

They were away for ages and by the time they got back it was time for teeth brushing and on with the Cath Kidston nighties. The young misses are posh campers. Storytime next. I had to tell a lot of stories from real life. Most of them were about dogs. Bert wasn't a lot of help. Occasionally he'd fill in a missing detail. He mostly listened and I've been told he enjoyed my tales as much as the girls. Eventually, they began to drift off which was just as well as, not only was I getting hoarse, I was also running out of suitable stories. I'd foolishly remarked to Bert that the only story I hadn't told them was the one about the nights he'd spent in the cave in Marseilles and that they'd need to be at least twelve before they heard that one - whereupon Evie started to howl, crying that she wanted to hear the story about the cave in Marseilles. So, the absolute last story of the night was That Time Bert Slept In The Cave Near Marseilles.

Of course, I completely removed the part about the paranormal attack and replaced it with a sort of Princess and the Pea treatment involving buried treasure and it went down a treat. They can hear the scary version when they're older. Of course, knowing Evie she'll be sceptical. This morning, she was telling me the story of Adam and Eve in the Garden of Eden and she was scathing about 'talking animals'. I think she meant the snake.

The camper van was a little cramped for four but it was lovely to watch the dawn break over the sea. We weren't paying that much attention to time but it might have been after nine o'clock that we set off for the beach while Bert snatched some extra sleepy-time.

The girls on the Game of Thrones trail still wearing their Cath Kidston nightdresses. Murlough Bay was used as a filming location for at least three episodes of the show.

After that walk, we returned to the van and the girls had a second helping of cereal, some thorough teeth brushing and a perfunctory wash before dressing for the second walk of the day. This time they took Bert to visit the bothy where the evil witch lived, the cave with her captured and chained baby dragon and the twelve, very vicious flying monkeys. I enjoyed a coffee and a read of my book and after about an hour I wondered what was keeping them. I went out to see. And met them coming back.

They'd found another beach, a secret one beyond the little cottage and would I like to see it? I would. Bert was exhausted so he went back to the van. The witch was dead, vanquished by a magic spell involving a red bucket and some magic stones so we didn't have to tiptoe going past the bothy. The flying monkeys were back in the zoo, and the baby dragon had been freed.

And the secret beach was delightful.

We played on it for ages.

That land mass on the horizon is The Mull of Kintyre.

The girls are very good at climbing mountains.

Building a stone house for a woodlouse. Her name was Alice. Alice Wood. Get it?

As we wandered back I was informed that a new witch had moved into the bothy and that the flying monkeys were back. When this witch goes to the Spar for her groceries her broomstick is parked in the air above the shop so as not to arouse suspicion. When we passed her home Martha peeked in and said she was eating her dinner. What was she having? Two roast children (Martha said) with an accompaniment of slugs and boiled grass (Evie said). 

The way out of Murlough Bay is very steep and winding and I said a prayer that the old van would make it and my prayer was answered. Perhaps I should have looked a bit further ahead as she broke down on us as we came into Ballycastle. But that's another story.

**SPOILER**

There was a happy ending.

The Sun Has Got His Hat On

We have been basking in beautiful, glorious sunshine for almost a week. Misses Martha and Evie and their parents are camping out in the fields. Between spending time with them and watering, watering, watering (thank God we have water) there is little time for blogging.

But that's all right. Must go. I have a poly tunnel to water before it gets too hot.

A Night On Big Dog Mountain

Belleek

Well - where else were we going to camp with Bonnie out on her very first holiday?

I finally got up the street in Belleek and found it friendly and charming. Belleek straddles the border so while we were there we popped over to Leitrim to take a look at Rossinver Organic Centre. I have to say I found it very inspiring.

Rossinver Organic Centre

I loved the living willow sculptures. I was jealous of the indoor (polytunnel) garden and I thought the mint garden was inspired. That's third along on the bottom row of the collage. Mint is notoriously invasive so they'd planted each variety in big tubs built ino the curving stone wall. Lovely to sit there nibbling on the different varieties of mint. Naturally chocolate mint was my favourite.

From Lough Melvin to donkeys near Big Dog Mountain

Here are some general observations about Fermanagh and Fermanagh people - it strikes me as a fey county, there is a sense that the fairies are not far away. I get that same feeling in Leitrim too. Garrison is full of old farmers who stand in the middle of the road so that the traffic has to drive around them. Those old guys seem to be saying, "I was born and reared in these parts and I'll stand in the middle of the road if I please!" Derrygonnelly folk are mostly very small. We watched a funeral go by and I don't believe there was a single man there taller than 5' 8". Enniskillen comes across as a gentle town. The Big Dog forest is full of donkeys.

We camped there and there wasn't a dry stick to be had. We were very glad of our bag of County Antrim turf. The fire Bert made was awesome but next time I go camping in October I'll be wearing thermal everything. Bonnie, with her thick fur pelt, was untroubled by the cold and looked like she was thoroughly enjoying her first ever holiday. That was once she was certain she wasn't off to the vet again.

Pizza Parlour to Murlough Bay

I had a wonderful birthday this year. On Saturday Zoe and Hannah, with Dave and Jamie, took myself and Bert to the Pizza Parlour for (what else?) pizzas. As far as I can remember the Pizza Parlour has been in three different locations. Each time it moved it kept the dark red decor and the gingham and the black & white movie star pictures and collages. The tables are still adorned with empty Mateus Rose bottles as candle holders. The menu is as it always was. How long has it been trading? It must be at least 25 years. Height of sophistication it was back then - now it's an old, trusted and faithful friend. Zoe said that if you sit in the Pizza Parlour for long enough, sooner or later, you'll see every single person you know.

On Sunday Bert and I and the dogs went camping. We went to Murlough Bay, stopping off to tramp up, according to Bert, the highest hill in County Antrim. I didn't make it. I couldn't be bothered. Walking up hills on a boring path flanked with nothing but pine trees is no fun at all. Bert said the view from the top was amazing. He could see the Corkey Wind Farm and everything! Big dealaroo. If I walk out the lane, turn right, stroll up the road for three minutes and stand at the bottom of the Killyless Road I can see the wind farms at Corkey and Elliot's Hill and the wind turbine at Antrim Area Hospital.

Then when that dreary business was over we went to Murlough Bay which was wonderful and beautiful and I walked for miles. We camped in the spot recommended by Zoe and had a great evening.

SwineBlogger won't let me post pictures tonight. I'll get back to it later.

Weekending

Bert thoroughly enjoyed his camping trip to the County Down. Man and dog returned Sunday evening tired and happy. His 1000 mile socks were a great success as were his new hiking boots. I thought 1000 mile socks meant he could wear them that long without washing them but Ian said no, he can walk 1000 miles in them without getting a blister. However on the 1001st mile his feet will be in juggins.

Meanwhile back at the ranch, Rosie and I set off for a day at Swisser's. We all walked the clifftop walk from Portballintrae to the Giant's Causeway. It was wet and warm and far too misty for photographs. I too returned tired and happy.

I walk every day now and I think it is beginning to have an effect. I've stopped weighing myself but my clothes are fitting better. I'm back in my normal bra size and no longer have a monobosom. There are obviously two of them now instead of the mammary shelf I was sporting at 40EE. Now I'm 38E. Yippee! Still got a spotty chin though. I use tea tree oil on them which is quite effective. (Spots not breasts)

Good news on the Kerry dog front. John F is besotted with her. She was here today and in very fine form. And she'll be here tomorrow too.

Bert said I'm to have my walk at the old house tomorrow. The builders should be starting after Christmas and he has started to strip the pine tongue and groove from the bathroom and toilet (for recycling) He thinks it will be jolly useful if I carry it away from about him as it is starting to pile up. Should be better exercise than I get toodling around with Matty.

Last Holiday

This picture was taken on a camping trip to Murlough Bay. It was Danny's last holiday. All the dogs had a fabulous time and so did we. Danny died soon afterwards. Did Paddy become the leader of the pack? No way. Rosie muscled in and became the Alpha Bitcher. Padraig Og will have to wait his turn.