Straidkilly Nature Reserve

 

This was a day of two halves. I completed one of the tasks I set myself on the decluttering project. As I said to Bert,

When I'm overwhelmed, I feel I've achieved something when I shelve all the books alphabetically.

And please note that I also dusted those shelves. Good job!

The second half of the day consisted of a trip to Straidkilly Nature Reserve where Bert, myself and all three dogs went for a jolly good hike. It was my first visit. Hannah had intimated that I'd find it rather tough as many of the trails are hard going. No bother to me at all! I had my Blundstones and a stout stick.

The only downsides were me getting bit by a cleg (horsefly) and the other small matter of losing a tooth, I don't even want to say how that happened as it was so stupid.

December Daily Post, No. 17

Darn it! This daily blogging is very wearying. I don't know how Ganching has managed to post every day during 2014. Only another two weeks to go Gan!

Nellybert are catching up on The Missing. We watched three episodes tonight so only two more to go. I'm so tired I am thinking of  recycling a post from 10 years ago. It seems I've been having issues with my pretend teeth  for more than a decade now.

And speaking of pretend teeth - we paid a little visit to a craftsman in Magherafelt today and, I'll say no more, but Bert must have heard me singing All I Want For Christmas Is My Two Front Teeth....

Where's My Tooth?
(A Post From December 2004)
I am a part-time worker (since February) and I work shifts. A typical shift starts at three, ends at eleven, has an eight hour sleepover, then starts at half seven and finishes at half three. Mostly I work alone. Mostly I work weekends. The hostel is situated right on a very busy main road. The trick is, if working weekends, to get to sleep before the pubs get out. Last night I didn't manage to do this.
I tossed and I turned. My feet itched and my duvet felt as if it was full of bricks. Outside revellers screamed, shouted and fought. The clock inched nearer and nearer to getting up time. By 4.30am I was so scunnered I just got up.
The thing is I get agitated in the wee small hours. My itchy feet were the first symptom of a pernicious disease of the blood. It's true! I read it in Take A Break, after I read the article entitled 'Oh Look! Grandad has Chopped Granny Up In The Garden Shed' and before the one called 'My Evil Boyfriend Ate My Twin!'
Amazingly I got on rather well. Gave my organisation hours of free Nellyness. But there was one snag. I lost my tooth. Being so tired I couldn't even remember removing it. The obvious place would have been the bathroom but it wasn't there. I searched everywhere, and as Saturday morning is cleaning the staff quarters day, I was terribly afraid I'd hoovered it or otherwise disposed of it. Nasty piece of pink and whitish plastic that it is, it would still cost a hundred to replace, not to mention going about for days looking like Johnny Rotten. Not a good look for Nelly atall.
Thank you God & St Anthony and St Jude. I found it. In the bathroom bin. A close thing.
Now it is evening and me, my tooth, Bert and Zoe are going to the ol' homestead to visit Jean, Jonny and Matty and partake in an evening of music & song. 

Cool For Cats

This is my most viewed photograph on Flickr. I cannot understand why. She isn't even nice. 

Do you know what I have asked Bert to buy me for Christmas? A new partial denture to replace the one that I think Ziggy (Hannah's pup) may have eaten. And do you know what is the saddest part? My dentist says it won't be ready until January. This means that I have to make my way through the holiday like a snaggle-toothed hillbilly. Ah well. I have decided to be philosophical about it for there are far, far worse things that having a gappy smile. What I really need is a new fridge, although Bert says I just need a new fridge door handle. We are heart scalded with pestilent thieving cats and dogs in Springhill. They can all open the fridge door. Even delicate little Holly (pictured above in her kittenhood) just lifts a dainty paw and pulls the door open. The dogs do it with their noses but the cats are the worst offenders. Bert shouted from the kitchen this afternoon,

Those bloody cats are in the fridge!

And they were. Actually in it. I felt like closing the door on them. But what would be the point? a little nudge with their heads and they'd be straight back out again.

Wobbly Wiggler

Yesterday one of the younger members of our gardening cooperative was over. She was telling me that she has several very wobbly teeth. I told her that, I too, had a wobbly one. It was an excellent chance for me, as a boring adult, to give the little'un one of my earnest homilies. I grabbed the opportunity and lectured Sylvie on how important it is to brush and take care of teeth when you are young because gnashers have to last you a long time and mine aren't going to. And there was lots of wobbling and clacking to prove my point.

Later on I was wobbling and wiggling my little front tooth that has been giving me so much annoyance. And as I wobbled it back and forth and wiggled it up and down I noticed that it wasn't even the least bit uncomfortable. Next thing it was out without even a twinge. At first I was elated - then I quickly deflated. I wish someone had given me an earnest homily when I was young and impressionable.

There Shall Be Weeping And Gnashing....

The Swearing Lady doesn't appear to have got back from the Irish Blog Awards yet. I do hope she hasn't run off with Twenty. But if she does get back to the Arse End I daresay she'll hardly be telling us what that oul goat really looks like. It's like the best kept secret ever. And all the bloggers who met him will be gloating to themselves and dropping hints and telling the rest of us 'minions' fuck all.

Aye it's the word 'minions' that has put me in a rage. Not against Madame Sweary of course but at yerman from Tinkerton Towers who used to refer to the staff 'under' him as minions, as in,

Oh I'll get one of my minions to do that.

That really used to set my teeth on edge. And don't get me started on teeth....

Watch Out! There's A Cat-Shaped Space In My Heart That's About To Be Filled

That's it then. Two more of my teeth have been consigned to the rubbish heap. After the extraction (dentist had to kneel on my chest and brace himself to get the blighters out) I went for a brisk walk by the river. And in the dark too - I'm a real hardy hoor. Now I'm suited, booted and teethed to the max for a night out with the Tinkerton crew. If I get round to posting again tonight it will be seriously gin-affected. So I probably won't. Oh yes - tomorrow we're getting a kitten.

In Hiding

Do I have all my own teeth? Unfortunately, tragically not. Tonight some of my teeth are still in my mouth but the remainder of them are with the dental technician. Tomorrow I am to lose my rickety bridge and gain four extra teeth on my plate.

I have to keep telling myself that it’s only teeth. Only teeth. And that I still have all my limbs and digits. My facial features are in place and all my other bits and boobs are where they should be. And when the technician (false teeth maker) has done his bit my smile will be intact again.

But I’m really very, very sad about it. Then of course there is having to hide in the house all day. After he nabbed my removable teeth that crazy dentist actually asked me if I’d be going Christmas shopping later.

Crithmath thopping! Are you inthane? With thith witch-hag maw?

I took Paddy for a walk and while I was out I worried about what I’d do if anyone spoke to me. I decided that I’d feign deaf-muteness. Maybe they’d think I was learning disabled? There are plenty of learning disabled people with that are perfectly capable of walking dogs.

I’m using my time hiding away from the world to start preparing my teaching practice lesson for the week before Christmas. Who knew there were so many things you can do with tables? Earlier this evening Bert was out collecting Jamie from the airport and to be on the safe side I’d locked all the doors and turned out most of the lights. Usually I hear cars coming up the lane but being so engrossed in the Tables and Borders toolbar I must have missed this one. First thing I knew was the back door being banged off its hinges. I leapt out of my chair and raced into the darkened kitchen where I crouched beside the fridge. It was ages before that brute Paddy stopped barking and I felt I could return to my studies.

This hellish toothlessness continues until 3.30 tomorrow. Then I’ll be able to say,

All my own teeth? But of course. All bought and paid for.

Teeth of Adversity

I wonder if blogging is bad for the teeth? I know I've lost at least three since I started writing Nelly's Garden.

Those last extractions were heartbreaking for me and it was months before I'd even let Bert see me without the dental plate. I said to my dentist that I'd be prepared to pay more for something decent but he pooh-poohed this idea and informed me that the NHS' finest would be just the ticket. All I can say to that is - his arse in parsley!

Now he's gone over into full time orthodontistry and has left my treatment in the hands of another charlatan. And since then this bloody plate has broken about six times. And I cannot get it replaced until December!

Each time I repair it (with Loctite) it gets ever more ill-fitting. Let me describe my latest torture. The part that breaks off has a little gold hook that is meant to attach to one of my real teeth and hold the contraption in place. But the frequent repairs mean that this hook is now sitting away from that tooth. It's the tiniest bit off but you know how the mouth is like the Tardis and everything in it feels fathoms deep and miles wide. Now this hook sometimes 'cleeks' on the inside of my mouth. It's not a problem if I've got my usual glum expression going but if I smile one of those social, welcoming smiles the next thing I know I've hooked the inside of my cheek. So imagine the scene. There's Mrs Moser in a work stuation say, just for example, in a solicitor's office doing reception. Ding! Ding! In walks a client and I give him a lovely welcoming smile. Next thing the hook has caught the inside of my mouth and my lovely smile has turned into a contemptuous sneer.

I haven't my sorrows to seek, have I?

Let Them Eat Cake

READ THE PRODUCT INFORMATION, WHY DON'T YOU?

You’d wonder sometimes at the amount of things that can go wrong in one day. Saturday started off well enough but little did I know what was in store for me. It was a pleasant enough morning, pissing with rain, but with the promise of a better afternoon to come. I had asked Hannah, Jamie and their friend Tom to join us for supper and I had all day to prepare for it. I settled myself down with coffee, toast and marmalade and a novel. As I bit into my toast I heard the familiar snap of two teeth breaking off my denture. Bloody hell! That’s the fifth time that has happened. I’d been to the dentist on Wednesday and had an appointment to get the thing properly sorted out....in December. And please to set aside £250 for the privilege. So it was out with the Loctite and another amateur repair, except I couldn’t get it to bond and while I was worrying at it a lens from my glasses fell at my feet. I tried to laugh it all off and ended up sobbing with despair and rage at my ill-fortune and decrepitude. I said to Bert, “All my prosthetics are falling apart. If I had implants they’d be exploding and if I had a wooden leg it would be dosed with woodworm.”

It got sort-of fixed. The front fang was sitting well below the rest and any food chewier than penada was to be avoided.

I decided to go shopping for chillies and things. But first fill the car with diesel. You know what’s going to happen next, don’t you? I parked, handed my keys to the attendant and went inside to buy a paper. That completed I return to the car and drive into the village. I get as far as the greengrocers. You don’t drive a diesel car too far when it’s just been filled with petrol. Of course I had no phone with me and of course Bert was out for an afternoon ramble with his chum and had no phone with him so all I could do was get out and walk. I was rescued by Rod, then Ploppy Pants was phoned re damage limitation then there was nothing else to be done until Bert returned to tow the car to Ploppy's place.

Well eventually that all came to pass and I got a ride back to Cully to complete my shopping. By now it was 6.30pm.

After shopping I decided to walk back home to clear my head. Just as I was setting off I saw a commotion ahead. Two large and very dirty dogs, a German shepherd and a labrador, were ambling up the middle of the road causing traffic chaos. As the sole pedestrian at the scene I think some of those drivers were under the impression that I was with the dogs. One driver even yelled at me, “Get your dogs off the road!”

The dog story ended with me being joined by Hannah, Bert et al and between us we managed to capture the German Shepherd but, unfortunately, not the lab as it took to the fields. So now we’ve got a very sad and lonely dog in the back shed and if we don’t find out today where it’s from we’ll be handing it over to the Council Dog Warden tomorrow.

By now supper is running late and I’ve a vegetable curry to put together. The onions are sauted and the cauliflower, peppers, carrots etc. are chopped and ready. The chillies and garlic and spices need to go in and the spuds peeled. Let me stop here and tell you that I’m only a beginner at this curry lark and I don’t really know my chillies. It was a mixed pack and I chose the pale one (Habanero) on the assumption that it would be fairly mild. I chopped it up, kept the seeds in, crushed garlic and shredded fresh ginger and into some hot oil it all went. Within seconds the kitchen filled with hot, acrid, lung-braising fumes. That fume could have been (and probably has been) used as a chemical weapon. Hopeful and undeterred I threw everything else in as well in the (futile) expectation that the rest of the ingredients would tone it down.

Swisser arrived with an organic apple pie. I had already made an unorganic chocolate cake. I told her about the Nuclear Stew we were having for dinner and my fears that it would be inedible. You’ll know what she said.

Despite this advice I threw together a quick cheese, onion and spinach tart, and Bert dashed to the shops with 15 minutes to spare and returned with 6 pots of natural yogurt and a cucumber. He made a raita and the whole thing turned out OK. Only Hannah couldn’t cope with the Nuclear Stew but the rest of us had a good go at it. Swisser even had seconds but I think she was showing off.

Then we ate cake.

Moleskinner Blues

Nelly: D’ye fancy meeting Stray Toaster this weekend for a drink?

Bert: I do not.

Nelly: Why not?

Bert: Because I’d be doing the driving. Again.

Nelly: Not a-tall. I’d be doing the driving. You’d want to be having a drink meeting the Stray Toaster.

Bert: Oh! Why’s that?

Nelly: Because you’ll be feeling that awkward at meeting him and experiencing his utter wonderfulness.

Bert: Elaborate.

Nelly: Well there’s his wit and intelligence, then there is his lovely shiny hair and then there’s his gorgeous moleskin coat.

Bert: Moleskin coat? Where’d he get that?

Nelly: In a Moleskin Coat shop.

Bert: Is it real moleskin?

Nelly: Oh aye. It’s got wee mole snouts and paws hanging off it and all.

Bert: Y’mean wee digger paws.

Nelly: Aye.

Bert: Well maybe I will then. I'd like to get a look at this coat.

Nelly: Did I mention his lovely teeth?

The Deep, Deep Peace Of The Dentist's Chair

I woke up this morning with impaired vision in my left eye. The reason? It was swelling resulting from two days of emergency dental treatment. Wednesday morning was spent at the surgery having an abscess treated. The dentist kindly offered to extract my tooth on the spot and I responded by bursting into tears. Because I couldn’t face the world with two gaps and my new pretend teeth were not ready. Then bolstered with painkillers and antibiotics I spent the next 25 hours at work. It was fairly eventful. Pregnant girls shinning up and down drainpipes, either attempting to illicitly enter or illicitly leave the premises, enlivened the nighttime. Who knows if it was true? Stories vary and I saw nothing. Then the daytime was wee Belfast boys installing security cameras so that we can enjoy action replays of pregnant girls shinning up and down drainpipes. Or not. As the case may be. Management then decided that this would also be a good day for revamping the office. So here’s me trying to do my normal work sitting at a desk zombied on painkillers and there’s them hovering impatiently wanting to move or do away with the desk and then when I go to file something (first locate your filing cabinet) I return to find the desk is upside down and halfway out the office door. Half hour to do a petty cash receipt – that’s a record even for me. It was so hectic that I said to my boss,

Do you know where I’d rather be? I’d rather be sitting in a lovely peaceful dentist’s surgery having a tooth pulled.

And a couple of hours later when I was sitting in a lovely peaceful dentist’s surgery having a tooth pulled it wasn’t half as great as I’d imagined. And now I’m sitting here still zombied on antibiotics and painkillers and wearing my pretend teeth and they are not as awful as I’d imagined. Things can only get better.