A Letter From Nelly

Springhill,

Cullybackey

31^st January, 2025

My Dearest Cousin,

Hoping this letter finds you and yours in good spirits. I am sorry to have left this letter so long, but life got in the way as they say. A great deal has happened since I last dropped you a line, and not all of it was good.

Were I to dwell on global occurrences I might depress us both so much that we should have to take to our beds for the remainder of the winter. Instead, I will concentrate on domestic matters.

We had quite the storm last week, quite unsafe to go out of doors with all the bits of hedges and trees blowing about. Sadly the middle bay of our polytunnel lost its covering and of course, the children’s trampoline rolled away taking the washing line and part of a small tree with it. The trampoline is wrecked but it could have been much worse. Our friend Howie lost his polytunnel, glasshouse, hen house and hens. His hens were not blown away, Foxy took them. Such opportunists, foxes.

Still, we were lucky to keep the electricity. It didn’t even flicker. Others were not so fortunate with thousands of people without power for days.

The next thing was I got another stomach bug. Remember I had one just after Christmas. Throwing up for 12 hours and off my food and feet for another 12. No fun. Folk keep telling me it’s a virus, something going around but funny it always seems to happen when I have been ‘over-indulging’ which is something I tend to do when my friend Cinta is having a sleepover. I’ve decided to eat more sensibly for a while and not to take alcohol at all. So far so good.

Speaking of eating sensibly, Bert has been told he has Type2 diabetes! Swisser could hardly believe it as he has always been slim. On Tuesday had a long day at the hospital having various tests as his blood sugar was extremely high. They were even considering starting him on insulin! Querying he might have Type1! Which would be highly unusual for a man of his years. Instead, he is on another drug and has to do a prick test before and after meals so we are both going to be eating sensibly from now on. The good news is that his blood sugar score has more than halved and the lovely nurses are pleased with him. Bert has been fortunate not to have had much to do with hospitals etc. and cannot get over how lovely everyone is. I told him it’s because he is a lovely patient.

Of course, he is a little bit sad that he can’t have cream and lashings of golden syrup on his porridge anymore. I have told him he can have it as a treat on his birthday.

But poor Cinta! When she was with us at the weekend she said she had five days off work to look forward to and was so happy about it. But that evening her dog Dora (sister to our Jess) collapsed while out on a nighttime walk and had to be carried home. They managed to get a vet’s appointment the next day but the news was very bad. The whole family are heartbroken. They brought her out to bury her here yesterday. She got a lovely spot between the hamamelis and the hebe. It’s strange to think that next January (If we are spared!) and the hamamelis is in full bloom again she will be gone 12 months. The life of a dog is not long.

Which brings Judy to mind. I cannot see her being with us a year hence. Oh! I will be glad to see this month over and done with. Too much anger and sadness and not nearly enough hope.

I shall finish now before I drive you under the bed covers. Perhaps the next time I write there will be some more cheerful news to report

Your loving, hopeful cousin,

Nelly

Dora and Jess in their younger days. Dora at the front

Hamamelis Pallida 

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.

One From Nine Years Ago

 

Dunminning Cottage, 22nd most viewed. 785 views

This picture was taken ten years ago. The cottage has been re-thatched since then, and according to the internet, it is up for sale. Whether or not it sold I do not know but the asking price was around 60 thousand. It seems reasonable except that it is tiny and needs a lot of work. It dates from around the 1830s and was originally inhabited by the toll keeper of Dunminning Bridge. Cousin Margaret says she went to school near there and she remembers it having a shop where she bought her sweets. Back in the 1950s and 60s people would have a little shop in their house selling sweets and a small selection of groceries. Agnes Hughes ran one from her house at the top of our road. I'd go there sometimes instead of our Granny's petrol station because Agnes did not moan at us the way Granny did. She did give us 20 questions as to what the neighbours were up to. I tried very hard to keep my guard up but it was difficult not to let things slip.

22nd most interesting on Flickr, 179 views

This picture was taken in November 2012. My lovely Bonnie died the following June. She was slowing down by then but still enjoying her life.

The light was beautiful and the dogs blended with the Autumn foliage. And Bonnie was having a perfect day.

Another picture of those two, was taken by Hannah, whose animal photography is excellent.

Durty Danny

This past couple of years have seen us get two kittens and a pup. This has been cheering and has brought a bit of youthful high spirits to the house. This is all very well except that ten years from now they are going to catch up with us in decrepitude and it seems unfair, it's already unfair to foist our old selves on young animals. We might be wiser these days but we're nowhere near as much fun and Cleo hasn't had a tenth of the experiences that Danny and Rosie had being the beloved dogs of far younger people.

Danny travelled. He was never away from beaches, was all around Ireland, and even went to Manchester to visit Katy when she was at Uni. He loved the Dingle peninsula and had great times in Sligo and Galway. He was part of the County Antrim rave scene and attended many open-air music gatherings of an informal sort. We were party animals and so was he. Rosie might not have been as sociable or as far-travelled but she enjoyed her outings too as did Paddy. 

It helped that Nellybert were outrageously irresponsible. We let the dogs loose and assumed that all would be well. Once, at the Omagh Bluegrass Festival, we lost Danny and Rosie. We were staying (big crowd of us) in two holiday cottages. The two dogs were soon found, at a barbecue, to which they had not been invited. Danny was damnable for joining other people's picnics and barbecues and somehow he always got away with it. As did we.

One of Danny's more memorable trips was to Galway City. We had rooms somewhere and Danny was to sleep in the van. No bother to him as the van was his second home. Before we turned in for the night we took him for a walk. On a lead, but he was OK about it. A small van passed us with one of the back doors open. Something flew out. Partially cooked chicken pieces. Danny started to munch.  He ate as much as he could and then gathered in his mouth what he could carry back to the van. I told you we were irresponsible. We retired to our lodgings which were cheap but not cheerful. There is nothing cheerful about slugs crawling up the bathroom tiles. 

The next morning our darling dog was still alive, very much so but for the entirety of that day, the farts coming out of him were abominable. Served us right. 

And that was just one of Danny's many adventures. Poor Cleo is already over a year old and hasn't gone a step further than Waterfoot Beach. No off-lead adventures for her either as we are responsible pet-owners now. About time.

Cleo at Waterfoot

The Thompson Twins

 Pippin and Woody

A few days ago Woody had a big adventure. He returned to Portglenone, the town where he was first rescued by Ben and Sara. Busy shopping streets are no place for lost baby kittens. He was much safer at the vets. Except the part where she removed his testicles but I don't think he noticed. We collected him just after lunchtime and although he'd lunched at the vet's surgery he straight away had another large meal. After that he went outside to explore his favourite places and then had a wrestling match with Chico. His day continued as usual with play fights with Pippin and Cleo, a big supper and the usual bedtime.

Next day I was going into town and spotted a leaflet lying in the car, so picked it up and read it. 

Woody's Aftercare. Woody has had a big operation, the removal of both testicles. He has had anaesthesia and may be lethargic and sleepy. Small meals may be offered if he seems hungry. Rest and quiet times are important for Woody's recovery. The wound... etc. etc.

Oh dear. I forgot to read the after care leaflet. Bad cat carer. Still, he's OK. The operation didn't take a fizz out of him.

We call Pippin and Woody the Thompson Twins they both came to us from Sara T whose surname is... you guessed it.

And as Nellybert often say to each other, Sara does exceedingly good kittens.

 She's good with dogs as well.

One From 17 Years Ago

One of our regular guests. Chico is day care only, no overnight stays yet.

This blog will be twenty years old in August so, with all my archives to draw on I am recycling a post in which Bert, Young Rooney and myself, discussed Nellybert's fast-approaching old age. What has changed since then?

We have arrived at our old age and seem to be managing OK even though we didn't go down the paintballing or stables route. .

Like ourselves, Young Rooney is seventeen years older, he's married now with children. He's given up on horsey girls. So has Bert. I still run around in filthy jeans and body warmers. We sort of do boarding kennels but only for family and friends and their dogs get to sleep on our beds. And it's free.

Wednesday, March 07, 2007

Farm Diversification

Young Rooney called in this afternoon and we got to bouncing a few ideas around. These mostly centred around what Nellybert's going to do to bring the dosh in for the old age. Neither of us has much in the way of pension plans. In fact I just cashed mine in and it's just about enough to pay off my credit card and buy some decent teeth. Young Rooney says,

You could rent out the ground.

Doing that. Money's crap.

You could plant trees.

Done that. Fifteen acres in trees already.

What about a garden centre? Bert could run it and you could do a tea shop. Sell your cheesecake.

We hate garden centres.

Lots of money to be made.

Huh!

Boarding kennels then?

Someone tried for boarding kennels before and the road put in against it.

Cattery?

Mmmm. Maybe.

Riding stables? Paintballing?

Nelly goes,

Paintballing? Lots of fit blokes running about? Mmm. Maybe.

Bert goes,

Riding stables? Lots of gorgeous lassies in jodphurs? Sounds OK. Far better than all those oul biddies that hang about garden centres.

Young Rooney goes,

Aye. Riding stables. Me and Loveheart'll be round here all the time. Loveheart says all those horsey girls are mad for it. He says it's all the bouncing about in saddles that gets them going.

Nelly says,

Yeah. And I can become one of those old eccentric horsey women running about in filthy jeans and bodywarmers with no time to go to the hairdresser.

Bert says,

Sure that's you now...

A Tale of Two Badgers

I believe in the existence of badgers. I've seen the entrances to their setts, I've heard them snarl at Ziggy when he went down their tunnels, I know they live in the woods, I suspect that in the past they were scratching at the doors of the hen house and I've even seen dead ones on the road. But I've never seen a live one and I still haven't.

Last night Hannah came rushing into the house, Chico in her arms.

Where are the dogs? Are the cats here?

What panicked her? Just outside our house, halfway between the back door and the entrance to the hen run two badgers were fighting. Hannah was scared that one of the animals might have been one of our pets. But no, two badgers fighting. Bert saw them both run across the yard then scoot off in different directions. All our pets were fine. Cleo was outside, as was Judy. Judy, being stone deaf, heard nothing but Cleo was excited and set off in pursuit of the badgers. 

I was so jealous. I've never seen a living badger and now Chico has and he is only eleven weeks old.

Chico is Hannah's puppy. This is his sixth day living here and he is well settled. Nothing fazes him, not even fighting badgers. But wait until he meets the pigs!

New Jess On The Road

 

There are now at least two collie type dogs living on our road that are called Jess, our Jess and Clint's Jess.  Clint's Jess has a story. During Clint's time as a milk-tanker driver he frequented farms all around the country and on one of these farms he came across some people, good enough people in their own way, who acquired collie pups which they kept confined to a cage. That's how he got Bob. He'd seen him in the cage for far too long and eventually asked for him and got him. It does something to dogs if they don't have a modicum of freedom but Bob has been with Clint a long time now and although he's a bit crazy he is happy and well cared for.

Clint's retired from the milk collection trade now but around Christmas time he had business on the yard where he'd previously got Bob and there was another dog in the cage. Jess. She'd been there a good few years, a dog bought in the hopes she'd work out as a cattle dog and that hadn't happened. She is Clint's dog now, and she'll have a far better life with him for he cares about the animals in his life.

Still don't agree with his politics though. We just don't talk about that.

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.

The First Judy

This picture of Jess was taken the first day she went to live with my parents. She looks a bit unsure of herself.

I were looking through a box of old photographs, mostly of dogs. I turned up a snap of Mum’s dog Jess from when she was a puppy and asked Bert,

Do you remember Jess?

Jess? The Pup that came from Sammy Grey’s. How long was she around?

At least ten years. Mum got up one morning and found her dead. She was their last dog. They never had another.

Your dad wasn’t that keen on dogs, was he?

I don’t know about that.

So I told him about the second Danny and the first Judy.

Both dogs came from the same mother, a wee spaniel that belonged to a friend of a friend. Danny was the first of them. At that time I had little need of a dog but allowed myself to be persuaded. He was such a gorgeous pup and I named him Danny after a dog we’d had at home. He was probably only about six weeks old when I got him, far too young to be separated from his mother but that was common then to take a pup away at that age. I’d been advised by a neighbour to get him his inoculation soon as distemper was rife in our area. But I’d little spare money then and didn’t get round to it.

It’s a horrible thing to watch a tiny puppy die of distemper. Thanks be it is almost a thing of the past now. He became ill and declined fast. After one horrible night of fitting I took him to the vet but it was too late. Allowing little Danny to die is a huge regret.

About a year later Beryl’s friend’s bitch had a second litter. At first I was reluctant to have another pup but went to see them. Always a mistake. I chose a sweet little bitch and named her Judy. This time I made sure she got her inoculations. That done I could pat myself on the back and consider myself a good dog mum. But I wasn’t.

Judy spent a lot of time in the street outside our house. Drumtara was a newly built estate and there were a lot of children and dogs around. When Zoe was outdoors playing with her group of friends Judy was always with them. There was one young boy who tormented the girls and he had been kicking Judy. Understandably, Judy snapped at him and this caused a big problem. His mother came to my door and threatened to call the police. I asked my parents if they would take her off my hands and, slightly reluctantly, they agreed.

Judy adapted well to country life. She decided that my father was her hero and followed him everywhere. If he was at the farmyard she would be with him. If he went to the moss (which he often did) she’d go too, trotting beside his tractor until they arrived at the turf banks.

She was always well-behaved when she was with Daddy until the day when one of the fellow turf cutters brought his dog along and which excited Judy so much that she did not mind herself around Daddy’s tractor and was killed under its wheels. He buried her there and then in the bog that she and my father loved so much then returned home alone. Mammy knew the moment he came in that something was wrong. He went to his customary place at the kitchen table, sat down, folded his arms in front of him, laid down his head and wept.

Not long after these photographs were taken Judy and Katy set off on an adventure. Whether it was Judy's idea or Katy's we'll never know but they both left my mother's house and turned up at the next door neighbour's house which was a good fifteen minute walk for a toddler and a terrier. Both were returned safely and we were advised that one of them might need a nappy change.

Places in Books: 19 Eldon Road, Kensington

 

Number 19, Eldon Road, where the art critic Brian Sewell and his dog Susie lived in 1972. Susie was the first to sense that they were not alone, trembling and howling on many occasions. Sewell himself became aware of a presence.

"...something disagreeable - a chill and a stench through which I could pass in a single stride, of much the same height and volume as a human being" (Sleeping With Dogs, Brian Sewell, p30)

It is to be hoped that the current residents are untroubled by hauntings and, if this is so, they can thank Sewell for it, because it was he on meeting the ghost on the stairs, sat down, talked to it and somehow persuaded it to leave, much to Susie's relief.

I am reading this book for the second time. Zoe loaned it to Hannah after Ziggy died and when she had finished I decided to read it again. By all accounts the author was a complicated man who held controversial views but I read him as a fellow lover of dogs and that will do.  

 

A World Without Ziggy

 27th August- 8th September 2023

We had a wedding, a big family get-together, a funeral, two birthdays and then - Ziggy died.

He'd been diagnosed with heart failure one month previously. Tests showed his heart to be massively enlarged. He rallied with his initial treatment but it didn't last. He wasn't in pain but he was stressed and uncomfortable and things weren't going to get any better. Hannah made the decision that it would be unkind to try and prolong his life. 

Ziggy was a smashing wee dog, so full of character. He had many friends. But Hannah was his number one, and he was hers. We will all miss that little fellow, the Zigster, Zigatron, Wiggler, the best boy there ever was. 

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/

Respecting Culture Except Dogs

 

Today, July 12th is culturally, an important day in the North of Ireland calendar. A bank holiday, a holiday for all, yet a celebration that deliberately excludes the majority of the people living in this place. Of which I am one. I don't hate it, I recognise that it matters to a lot of people living here. I try to understand and respect another culture and hope that will be reciprocated.

Most Twelfths I don't venture from this yard. We ask friends around, have drinks, something to eat, enjoy the summer weather. Except this day I had something to do, first daughter needed a lift to boarding kennels with Posie before she left on her annual camping holiday in Galway. Posie is a lovely hound but has particular needs and kennels are the only thing that keep her safe when her people go away. 

We had to leave early as the Twelfth is a day when journeys are often complicated. All over the country, Orange Lodges have mini-marches from one place to another before gathering together in some town or city for a big march that can close main routes for hours. One a year, every year for a hundred years or more - we get used to being somewhat restricted in our movements on the 12th day of July.

I picked Zoe and Posie up at nine-thirty. Our first stop was on the Oldpark Road just outside Ballymena. i recognised one of the standard bearers, a neighbour of the Wee's,  who rented then bought the farm. I waved, and he raised his white-gloved hand, I sensed he wasn't sure of me, we'd only met at funerals but the connection was there. 

Then on to Rasharkin where the police were out in force. We passed them by but had to wait in Kilrea as the local lodge were going the same route as ourselves. We got moving on the road to Upperlands where I was mannerly enough to let an Orangeman across the road and received a friendly grin and a thumbs up from him. As I said to Zoe, See us, respecting the fuck out of other folk's culture.

Posie delivered, and her not terribly happy about being abandoned we despondently began our journey home. Only to be stopped again a mile outside Rasharkin. It looked like a slow one so we nipped right onto the Townhill Road which was great for a few miles until, near Portglenone, we came upon another lodge wending its slow way towards the town. By this time I was a bit fed up as they were taking both sides of the road. Until I realised that the stewards were observing health and safety regs and were being careful. As soon as it was safe we were waved on and friendly acknowledgements were exchanged between all parties. 

I'd be telling lies if I said I didn't enjoy the connections I made on our cross-country journey to Upperlands, experiencing another culture, respecting the fuck out of it and moving on. It's where I live, what goes on, and it's how some other folks see things. That said it's a bit different in rural areas and quite a bit better.

The rest of the day? We had people over. Some of them were English, and some of them were not. We were seven humans and we had eight dogs. The humans got on, and the dogs had difficulties which were the human's fault. 'Twas always thus.

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.

Fifteen Years Ago In Kerry

Tomorrow came and I started looking for pictures to illustrate a post on my recent visit to Kerry. I even went on Flickr! Then fell down a Dingle Peninsula rabbit hole of memories.

Remembered that fifteen years ago I fled to Kerry only days after Pearlie came to live with us. I brought Paddy Dog with me and he was tremendously well-behaved apart from stealing Scruff's bed.

Scruff, always the gentleman, was the perfect host. Fifteen years ago, so of course they're all gone now. 

Three of the best dogs that ever barked.

We climbed Mount Brandon then, even me! It was no bother to the dogs. 

Sadly, the mist was on the mountain that day and I wasn't able to get the view. No matter, I'd seen it before and I hope, I really hope to see it again. Older than me have climbed that hill.

Another picture from that trip. Bert's clematis to the fore, The mountain behind. 

There is something about the place. On the last day I was there we watched a short film about Mount Brandon. About the hill and some people who live beneath it. The brother-in-law features in it. When I climb the hill again I will bring a stick and when I reach the peak I will roar like a lioness.

The Link  to An Cnoc

https://www.tg4.ie/en/player/play/?pid=6323948255112&title=An%20Cnoc&series=C%C3%A9ad%20Seans&pcode=665662&genre=Faisneis

More Cake

 

There was more birthday cake yesterday when the girls were here for supper. Rhubarb and Almond cake, a new one for me. I thought it was a bit stodgy but that didn't stop me from eating it. 

There are a whole series of pictures of Bert and those two with birthday cakes. This one is from ten years ago.

Today I went to lunch with Jazzer. There is no photographic record of this event. We did a little light shopping afterwards in Antrim town where she acquired some pre-loved garments and I bought a copy of The Dud Avocado which was on my reading wish list. I had a good opportunity to read the first chapter in the Asda car park while Jazzer went in for a 'couple of things'. As always she was about half an hour. Bert has remarked before that when she goes into a shop she generally picks up a shift stacking shelves. I didn't really mind as the book was good. Turned out she got into a really slow queue and then, on leaving, the alarm went off and she had to have her receipt checked. Somebody forgot to take the tag off her new summer shorts. I'd have been raging if that had happened to me.

Back home to find Bert had eaten nearly all the pizza from Bamber Pizzeria. Fair play to him as no one had taken him out for lunch. He left me just enough to know it was yummy.

Afterwards, we had the sad task of taking an expired chicken out to the woods for the foxes to feast upon. But who could be sad in the woods on such a beautiful evening? Not us, certainly not Cleo.

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.