Right Place Right Time

 

My horticultural daughter during her early years. 

Sometimes online shopping doesn't work out. My gardener daughter asked me to buy her a particular pruning knife as a Christmas gift and I was glad to oblige. But because this thing was exceedingly sharp and pointy and I was ordering it in Antrim and having it delivered to Norfolk I was unable to satisfy the requirement for age verification. I phoned the company and they were lovely about it but said it was a tricky one, rules and all that. 

Then it occurred to me that the company's main shop is on a rather posh street in London and that I know someone who is not unfamiliar with upmarket shopping areas. Reader, I called Ganching and amazingly she was out and about and not tremendously far from the sharp things shop. A few hours later she messaged me saying the job was a good one. And she's doing the delivery too! Everyone should be so lucky to have a Ganching in their life.   

Christmas Eve

 Next year I'm going to buy the family Christmas presents early. In January I will buy Martha and Evie's papa a bottle of gin. In February I will again buy Martha and Evie's papa a bottle of gin. And in March...

Many, many hours later...

Holly de Cat, many Christmases ago.

Two More Sleeps

Today was supposed to be a day of preparing for the Norfolk trip but instead it turned into a day of two breakfasts, a trip to Ballymena with Leitrim Sister and Yer Man and a lot of chillaxing in front of an open fire and a glass or few of Lidls finest (and cheapest) Merlot.

All I have to do tomorrow is get up early, buy the Saturday Guardian (still can't get used to new format but at least Stephen Collins is still there), tidy and water polytunnel, fill suitcase with stuff for Emily and James and perhaps find tiny amount of room for a couple of changes of clothing for myself.

It was good to spend an hour or so with Deirdre and Nick and I'm almost certain I told Hannah that they'd be staying overnight. She did get an awful shock when she charged into the spare room at daybreak looking for clean socks. She met Bert on the stairs up for his early morning old-man pee and asked "Who are those people in the spare room?" so perhaps I only imagined I told her.

Still, as I always say on such occasions,

At least nobody died.

29th September

Bert says,

If there's one thing that will gladden a countrywoman's heart it's a big pile of brand new buckets.

He may well be right about that. By the way, thanks, Richard. I love my new buckets.

Bert also said,

Why are you photographing the buckets on their own? Shouldn't you be in the picture too so people can see what a big stack of buckets there actually are?

O.K. You take the picture.

And he did and it was a terrible picture. He footered around with the camera settings and made my trousers too baggy and my feet too long. But not to worry for I found some sort of rudimentary editing application that went some way to remedy these problems.

It's a big improvement. But I might have to have a word with Richard about the buckets. They seem to have warped.

Christmas Preparations

There are days when a person might consider themselves to be well-organised, ahead of the game, doing rightly but, as always,  chaos can never be far away.

This was such a day. Supper was prepared before midday, all that was needed to accompany it was a simple little salad. No reason why I should not be able to make a batch of chili jam, prepare butternut squash soup, rack the Summer Fruits, take a little dander around the Buttermilk Bridge, relax with my 1000 piece Klimt jigsaw, wrap some Christmas presents, pick Hannah up from work and so on...

Was just as well I prepared supper early (seriously delish lasagna since you ask) as I found myself roasting butternut, rinsing lentils (for the soup) and preparing a wrapping station for the presents. Scissors, sellotape, festive paper were all set up, as were the gifts. Hannah helped out and we were done in no time. I cleared the work surface of Christmas things, tossed up the salad, took the lasagna out of the oven and we started supper. Bert was off on an errand as he always finds something to do ten minutes before meal times. He came in soon after and helped himself.

I had barely started clearing when I noticed two unwrapped presents. Sure it wouldn't take a minute to wrap them up. Out again with the sellotape, scissors and paper. First one wrapped. Was it just the tiniest bit greasy? Never mind, second one wrapped and just as I was folding over the last corner and starting to sellotape I spotted the little shred of lettuce stuck to the gift. Oh damn. I wrapped it anyway. Who'll notice a pick of vegetable matter in the present unwrapping frenzy that is Christmas morning? It was Bert, always careless when dolloping food from bowl to plate and myself, of course, careless in my cleaning. The person who will be having salad with her Christmas gift is Miss Evie. I don't think she'll care.

December Daily Post, Christmas Eve

A bit fraught, ever so slightly stressed. That is how I feel when I clean house. And it's usually how I feel on Christmas Eve. Not one sprout has been peeled. Some house has been cleaned. All the Christmas edibles have been purchased, some of the drinkables. The shops open again on Boxing Day so why do most people have a week's groceries in for one day?

All the presents are wrapped. We have a considerable pile under the tree. Bert asks,

Are any of these for me?

A few of them probably are even though he never buys presents.

Next year, if God spares us, Nellybert will be celebrating Christmas in Norfolk.

A Happy Christmas to all who visit Nelly's Garden.

The Wedding Present

As Bert and I are having a (relatively) fuss-free marriage we have been telling friends and family that we do not want presents. After all we have been together 21 years and have all the household goods we need.

But some folk just cannot be told. Look what Clint presented us with yesterday!

The wedding present is the one to the fore of the picture

So if you bloody insist we'll accept the following:

• A breeding pair of donkeys
• A yellow Triumph Dolomite
• A flock of Jacob sheep
• A spinning wheel
• Gold
• Champagne

Presents

When I worked in homeless care I was lucky to get a handful of Quality Street at Christmas. Working for CD I got lots of lovely gifts from bosses, colleagues and customers. And a bonus. And lunch with fifty brawny builders.

So that's Christmas started.

Doncha Wish Your Boyfriend Was Not Like Bert?

Holly de Cat guards Bert's Claro With Her Life

Happy news to report. Bert's endless clarinet practice seems to be paying off. I can just about bear to listen to it now. My urge to ram the claro up his arse is easing. That's what happens when a boy buys a girl a well-chosen present.

At work the Best Site Foreman in Ireland was mightily impressed with Bert's present.

I've seen those in Montgomery & Murdock's. They look the part alright. Are they a good job?

An awesome job Best Site Foreman. Red up those floors in a quarter of the normal time.

Something tells me some other lucky lady is going to get a lovely surprise.

My Birthday Present From Hootchinhannah

Racing Hounds, originally uploaded by hootchinhannah.

Hannah got this enlarged & framed for my birthday.

Zoe made me gourmet biscuits & cookies. Yum.

Katy sent me two Peatbog Faeries CDs.

I Fall For Bert All Over Again

Have I ever told the world that I love Bert very much? Is it terribly corny that I’m telling you all on St Valentine’s Day? Bear with me while I explain.

I told Bert yesterday that I would not be getting him a card because it was all far too silly. Then I went to work saying “See you tomorrow then”

Work was OK. It wasn't exactly Chillage Village because the clientele were being their usual annoying, prat-like selves so I was perversely pleased when postie did not bring any of them cards this morning.

So perhaps it served me right later that morning when I slipped on a wet floor in the kitchen area and went on my beam end with a resounding crash. My backside, being very well padded, came to no harm but I really hurt my left wrist, which I’d thrown out to save myself. I also banged my right elbow and hurt my right wrist.

Hmmm. I wept a little and felt very sorry for myself then being an optimist started to look on the bright side. This was the perfect excuse not to have to clean the flat that had been vacated the previous day by a complete minger.

Then I started to feel sorry for myself again. I’m just about to have two weeks holiday and I am injured. Optimism surges again. Oh wise up – you’re not that injured, ignore it, it will go away. So I bravely continued with my work – administrative and support work only and I worked like a Trojan. Filed an accident report and a risk assessment, made sure I completed all the paperwork for the booking out and put the day in rightly. The wrist was pretty sore but not so bad that I felt the need to spend half the day in Antrim Area waiting for an x-ray. Driving home was a bit rough. It would have been OK if I could have done without reverse and fifth gear and I really wished I’d an automatic.

When I got home Bert was out. I noticed a large bag sitting on the kitchen table but I was too busy reheating pizza, saying hello to the dogs and feeding Harry de Cat to pay attention to it. It was from the chemist and I knew Bert had been to the dentist that morning and he always buys a shopful of dental hygiene products when he’s been to the dentist.

But at last I had a look. It was one of my favourite perfumes. And it was being hugged by a little teddy bear. Bert has often bought me perfume but in nearly 19 years this is the first time he’s ever bought me a soft toy because we reckon we’re far too sensible for that sort of sentimental nonsense. But … I’m melting inside. I haven’t even taken it out of its wrapper and I know I’ll treasure it forever. I’ll even knit it a jumper.

I still haven’t seen or spoken to Bert this St Valentine’s Day and I’m just about to tell the world – I love him so much. I love him despite the tin-whistling. It’s not because of the teddy bear. That just reminded me.