My Week

 Monday - shopping with Vee. We also went to the Secret Garden at the Ecos Centre where we found a shared interest in birds of all sizes.*

Tuesday - date with the oldies. The oldies aren't the oldies because we're old. No sirree! We are the oldies because we are old friends.

Wednedsay - a free day which I spent reading and doing chores.

Thursday - Buckna to return an antique scythe we had on loan. Martha and Evie came too and had an interesting conversation with the owner of the scythe about working in movies. 

Friday - the Bonnars called. Old friends and fellow descendants of the Family Robinson we swapped a Chilean Lantern tree for pansies. I believe we got the better deal. 

Saturday - I went to Martha's dance school's recital at the Braid and had the best time. It was so pleasurable and my face ached from smiling. The entire thing was a delight and Martha made us proud. She shone. No doubt, all the other parents and grandparents were just as proud as we were but... she shone.

The Banjos were here when I got back home. Jazzer made a delicious dinner but she lost it at the rice. So I made the rice. There was music (YouTube) and dancing (Jazzer). I wish I could dance. Still, I give it the occasional go. Bert never, ever dances in public. I asked him today if he ever danced when no one was around and he admitted he did. If it's a good tune. Jazzer might be able to dance but, as usual, her music choices are shite. Gabrielle? Taylor Swift? 

Sunday - a quiet day which I needed. Finished reading my Tana French and can now speak a version of snotty-nosed teenager. Apparently, I only need to say Hello? and Excuse Me! a lot.

Tomorrow I go shopping with Vee. I have to buy a new kettle.

*There are a nest of coal-tits nesting at the top of my window. A few feet over from that, over the front door, the spotted fly-catchers are sitting on eggs. And at night we can hear the young long-eared owls calling for food.

Busy Busy Busy

I've been getting ready for the visit of the Norfolkians - bedrooms to prepare, shopping to fetch, food to fix and general decluttering. I'll never get it finished. And now I've went and gone and broke my fire. Bang goes my dream of sitting with Katy in my cosy, private, secret sitting room sipping wine and watching Netflix. After the children have gone to bed of course.

The fire isn't irretrievably broken - it is just a bad crack in the glass door but it is a bank holiday weekend and the fire door shop will be closed, maybe for the entire week. 

Despite this I'm looking forward to seeing my Norfolk family and I have actually managed to prepare two evening meals in advance with another to go on Monday. One is a beef stew and the other a chicken curry. Monday's meal will be a vegetarian chilli.

Tomorrow is Easter Sunday. I don't know what we'll have for dinner - maybe beans on toast. I quite fancy that.

Bit Of A Catch Up

 

On Wednesday Bert and I took Ziggy to the vet for his X-ray and scan. First, the vet (one of my faves as she is so straightforward) gave him a check-up. The medicine was working well and his lungs were clear. I said goodbye and left him for his tests. Back to the vet at 2pm. I saw the X-ray. Poor Ziggy's heart is very enlarged, leaving little room for the rest of his organs. Still, the vet said the meds would keep him comfortable and give him a better-quality life so well worth it. The wee fellow was glad to get home.

Thursday was Martha and  Evie Day and we had three friends around. They are five busy girls, what with school, orchestra, football, drama, Irish dancing and camogie and it was the first time in an age they were all together. Four of them are now considerably taller than me. Only Maria is smaller but she isn't even in double figures yet so it can only be a matter of time. The girls spent all day outside, made a swing, broke a swing, made another swing, communed with the kune kunes and involved themselves in a whole other of other outdoor activities their mother and granny knew nothing about.

2023

2018

Friday, Martha and Evie were still with us. We had quiet day, the only momentous event being Cleo getting hold of Martha's retainer and rendering it unusable. Martha was most upset but fortunately, she had a spare. The damage Cleo has wreaked since coming to live with us must by now be edging close to about five hundred pounds worth.

Saturday and Sunday involved some extra cleaning in preparation for visitors, both Antipodean and Wedding. Some gardening was also involved. Much Lucifer was banished to the hot place also known as the compost heap. There is a reason this gorgeous perennial is rarely to be found in garden centres. Anyone who has it will always be palming it off on fellow gardeners. I've got to the stage where I cannot get anyone to take it.

My New Zealand cousin thought Lucifer was lovely but she flinched at the sight of my agapanthus. Apparently, it is a noxious weed where she comes from.  And it wasn't the only noxious weed she spotted but the less said about that the better.

For those that wonder what the top picture in this post has got to do with anything the answer is - lots. For I heard a really good story today which featured a donkey that ate all the flowers in a granny's garden. And the wee blond lad holding the donkey's halter will be visiting from Vancouver this coming week and I'm really looking forward to seeing him. 

The Joy of Tidying

 

Obviously the first thing to do when embarking on a tidying spree is to sort one's books in alphabetical order. That sparks joy.

Everything else is pure drear.

It has been a busy week with little time for tidying. There was a friend's party on Saturday evening at which I did not drink alcohol and had a great time. A practice run for Neesh's wedding. On Monday Bert and I borrowed Clint's trailer and went to the Council Recycling Centre where we dumped the clothes dryer and some other items. I suppose that could be considered tidying.  Tuesday, I took the girls for breakfast and took some stuff to a charity shop (more tidying). We went to Tim Hortons - my first (and last) visit. 

On Wednesday we bought a gigantic television set and then visited some old friends we hadn't seen for ages.

Thursday was a tough day. Ziggy hadn't been well the previous night and Han asked us to take him to the vet. She couldn't do it herself as she had work commitments. The vet spent some time listening to his chest and when she had finished she told us that his heart was failing. Blood tests were taken and he received two intravenous injections. He was booked in for further tests. We were told to bring him back the next day if he wasn't any better which worried me. It was hard having to tell Han when she phoned to ask how he'd got on.

We had the girls on Thursday but didn't see that much of them apart from at feeding time. They amuse themselves these days, playing with Cleo, drawing, loading apps on Bert's phone and watching Netflix on my laptop. Bert set the new TV up which kept him occupied. I worried about Ziggy, who, as the afternoon wore on seemed to improve a little, chest not thumping as much, coughing less. He fell asleep on my sofa but the minute Hannah's car came up the lane he sat bolt upright. 

Today we had a friend come around to help us clear an overgrown part of the yard. He is a big mate of Ziggy who was pleased to see him. There was lots of tail wagging and after they'd said hello to each other we left Ziggy to rest. But no, Ziggy wanted to hang out and that's what he did. The injections and the meds he has started seemed to have alleviated the worst of his symptoms. 

And the wild place got cleared (more tidying) with the promise of further clearing to come and Les and Mrs Les called round to collect a forgotten saxophone. How does anyone forget a saxophone? And Teeny Bird and her two lovely children and Uncle Ben and two welders and Howard (bearing home-grown strawberries, cucumbers and tomatoes) all called to visit and then Locky phoned to ask how Ziggy was, so a very full day indeed. 

And after everyone had gone and we had dinner we watched the Chris Packham programme on our giant TV then Naked Attraction. I'm not sure which was more harrowing.  

Weather Report

 

It has been unseasonably mild these past few days. A warm south-westerly has been blowing and some summer-blooming annuals and biennials are even coming back into flower. According to BBC Weather, the unusually high temperatures are due to the action of the jet stream and the wind coming from the Tropics giving Northern Ireland its warmest November night on record.

Not that I'm complaining.

We had Ben and Sara for a sleepover last night. Ben was here for most of the day helping Bert split and chop firewood. This warm weather won't be here forever y'know. Sara had family commitments in Co. Derry so she came later bearing a pastry box from The Green Cat Bakery in Eglinton. Their salted caramel squares were blissful. Then I thought we might have a few little drinks and take in some great slide guitarists on YouTube but we ended up watching funny cat videos instead.

Which was good. Pippin enjoyed the cat videos too.

Tomorrow it is to piss down rain.

Diary Entry #1

I am definitely going to start using this blog as a diary. I might not always feel inclined to write reams on daily/weekly events and as I grow ever older I'll be glad to have the memories to hand.

Mick was here last week from Thursday evening to Sunday. Kerry Sister and family (all five of them and Jackie the dog) came up on Friday (staying in Glenarm) and leave tomorrow. They visited here on Saturday, I visited them last night - my first drive in the dark in months. I got to watch the moon rise from all the way from Broughshane to Carnlough which was beautiful.

Today I met Kerry Sister in Ballymena and I had a lovely sisterly time visiting nearly all the charity shops in Ballymena. And I had extra money to spend as my physio appointment didn't happen.

So tired this evening.

Corners of My Home

 

There are a lot of things I like about this phone picture. The light, the two young ones at my PC, the Ikea knitted blanket giving a nice splash of colour, Zoe's painting on the wall. Young Loveheart's husky watching the screen, the old-style broom lying on the floor...

Really, I should be catching up with last week's exciting (and exhausting) visit of the Norfolk branch of the family. Maybe later this week when I have more time. The Muswell Hill branch arrive tomorrow. Can't wait.

Visitors

 

This pheasant visits us every day. I don't always see him but I'm sure the spot under the seed feeder is part of his daily round. I call him Herbie. He is difficult to photograph as the slightest movement spooks him and even though he mostly walks, he is pretty nippy on his feet.

There were other visitors these past few days which is why I've not been blogging. Mick and Linda (co-grandparents) from Norwich were staying. There were some doubts if they'd be coming because of Covid but as we're all double-vaxxed and boosted and tests were taken prior to flying it all went ahead. I'm glad they came as Martha and Evie would have been very disappointed not to see them.

Anyway, all went well, the girls stayed too so we watched a lot of movies, Peter Rabbit 2 and another one called The Croods which I'd never heard of. Then, as if that wasn't enough screentime, Mick and Linda took them to the cinema yesterday to see the latest Ghostbusters.

The co-grandparents headed back to England this morning and overlapped with yet another visitor. Swisser had dropped Rex off as she's working in Bradford for a couple of days. I'd forgotten this arrangement and didn't see her. I came downstairs to find Rex in the sunroom and Mick fresh out of the shower. He said, 

There's another dog. I don't know where it came from.

Doing and Not Doing

It was my intention to write a longer blog post this evening but life, in the form of entertaining visitors, got in the way.

Other things that did not go to plan was allium planting. I did get the Senshyu onions in the ground and a few rows of elephant garlic. The hard necks are still to be planted but it's just a matter of plonking them in as the bed is fully prepared. Tomorrow.

Les' garlic crop

Another unfinished task was the chilli jam. It will be easy enough to complete tomorrow as it's all chopped, vinegared and sugared and just needs to be boiled. First thing in the morning after coffee. It was the entertaining guests got in the way of that one.

I had a couple of forms to fill in but that didn't happen either. I hate filling in forms especially if it's to do with finances.

It is a shame I couldn't just transcribe the conversations of the interesting visitors for that would make a very entertaining blog post but cannot tell as I'm bound by a non-disclosure agreement.

One thing I did do today was to take part in a piece of online research associated with Harvard University. I'd been pondering about how people with racist attitudes tend not to think of themselves as racist. So, as I don't identify as racist I wondered if perhaps I actually am?

The task was fairly uncomplicated and I did it to the best of my ability. On completing, I got a thank you for taking part and was informed that I showed a moderate bias towards people of Arab ethnicity.

Oh.

Part of the preparation for the task was to think of a person or persons that I considered typical of Arab people. And I chose  Mohammed bin Salman.

Which is where I went wrong.

Planting A Meadow

Rachael brought the wildflower seed. Together we prepared the ground although she did much more work than me. Well, she is twenty years younger so that's OK. And I had photographs to take. There has to be a record of these events.

Meanwhile, two of my granddaughters and Rachael's twins played dress up on the trampoline.

Sowing the seed. Fingers crossed!

The remainder of the day included a record number of visitors and a visit to my brother at the home place.

A lot of those visitors and some new ones are still around and it sounds like they are having a party. I might join them.

Father's Day

So, Father's Day again...

But they do get easier as time goes on. This is the fourteenth one since he died. The first one was very hard as he died in early June and right from the start the shops were full of Father's Day reminders. I remember feeling ridiculously annoyed and cross about it.

It passed. Father's Day is just another day now. To do with other people, not for us. I had a lot of company this weekend, the Banjos, Dr Leitrim Sister and her husband. Six people, not one of us with a living Dad. Memories were shared.

And here are some more.

A handmade card that Daddy received from his granddaughter in 1989.

One of a series of photographs that my sister Patricia Moriarty shot. They are some of the best pictures ever taken of our father.

One of my own photographs. I think he might have been calling me an eedjit as I was trying to get him to smile.

The pair of them.

One More Sleep

At last, the morning of the big push to Norfolk. Achievements so far,

Bought Guardian and paracetamol for the grievously sick husband.

*****

Early afternoon now. Not one single thing of mine in the suitcase yet. All James and Emily. The polytunnel has been watered and the poorly sick husband is up and about wearing complete rig out of farming clothes, big boots, boiler suit, beanie hat, heavy fleece jacket. He won't take them off as he is "too cold and miserable". I'd be miserable too if I was wearing all that stuff.

*****

Late afternoon - inundated with visitors. Polished my shoes while I chatted with them. I do like a bit of multitasking. Have already walked Jack Byrne in icy rain and had plain lunch. Bert still very sick man. One of the visitors said Man Flu is really a thing and if Bert needed sympathy give him a call as the poor fellow was obviously going to get no kind words at home. Not true! I made him a cup of Earl Grey and reminded him to take his paracetamol.

*****

Evening. Packing completed. Husband still sick. Polished my handbag and watched an episode on Inside No. 9. Feeling very excited. Hope Bert is fit enough to take me to the airport tomorrow. I took a photo of him sleeping on the sofa but it is too sad to show. Instead, here is one of Jack whose people will be collecting him tomorrow.

It might be a day or two before I get back to the Garden. See you!

A Bit of A Catch-Up

Thursday - Ganching expected! She is very caulrife so I was determined that our home should be warm and cosy. Bert was off on a jarvey to Larne and I had a few hours to myself to make the place welcoming, to change beds, hoover the corners - that sort of thing. House to myself did I say? Sure Bert never gets out of my road but one of his mates turns up looking for him. And always just as I've washed the floor. Hi, Wee! Make yourself some tea. I'll take a cup too when I've finished washing dog footprints off the sofas and maybe take a wee dash upstairs to fluff up the pillows.

Thursday evening. Ganching will be here soon. Martha and Evie are very excited. I turned on the central heating as it was a bit cold so the house should be snug by the time she gets here. At last, she arrives. Girls gave her a lovely welcome. House still a bit cool so I checked the thermostat. It's at 20 and I go to feel the radiators. They are freezing. That's when I realised we'd run out of heating oil (which never happens) and it was so close to five o'clock that we hadn't a hope of getting any that day. Disaster! We could light fires downstairs but bedrooms would be freezing. I have to say my sister was very decent about it and was happy to have an extra blanket and a hot water bottle.

Friday. Off to Seamus Heaney Homeplace in Bellaghy. We breakfasted on muffins and lunched on soup and wheaten bread and in-between times spent a leisurely three hours taking in the exhibitions. It was my second visit but the first time, on our way to Sligo, was a bit rushed and, if you ever go there, give yourself lots of time for it's well worth lingering over.

Saturday. Ganching at Martha and Evie's house. I am having more guests - the Banjos and Hannah's Friend(s). We are to have a Musical Evening and we are having cheeseburgers and chips for, at this point, I'm only expecting Hannah's omnivorous friend, not her vegan one. At last minute hear about vegan friend and have momentary panic until am informed that Hannah has bean burgers in freezer and Jazzer offers to make potato wedges as chips to be fried in pure lard.

Sunday. British Summer Time arrives but I pay it not a blind bit of notice. Was very tired all day. Probably my terrible diet of red wine, cow, lard and RJ Kerr soda farls. Mother's Day part very nice. Watched Homeland and admired Rupert Friend's lurching skills.

Photo by Ganching. Sodas by Paul Rankin. Not as good as R.J. Kerr but nice plate.

Monday. British Summer Time arrives with a vengeance at twenty past five. That's what the clock said but my body said it was the middle of the night. Took Hannah to work. Lucky me could go back to bed while she had to work her shift, then go to college. I'm up again at half-eight and showered and dressed to meet Ganching and Zoe for breakfast. Had poached eggs on sourdough toast. Sourdough much better than mine, eggs not so good as mine. How could they be? Evie arrives, then Martha. Parents too. Bert took the girls, dogs and Holly De Cat on an adventure to fields and forty minutes later all returned. Girls and dogs were excitable, happy and covered in mud. They had obviously had a wonderful time. Evie reluctant to wash her hands as she had "washed them in a river" but eventually allowed herself to be persuaded. Then visitors arrived just as we were about to serve pudding. I saved them some and Martha wasn't too pleased as she had hoped for second helpings. A promise was extracted that I would make the same pudding next week, only bigger.

Today. Had a lie-in. It was wonderful. Got up at ten. My body thought it was nine o'clock. It takes me ages to get used to Summer Time.

Right now. Going to watch the second episode of the original House of Cards. I didn't see it back in 1990 when I was 37. I'd little interest in politics back then even though I was always a diligent voter. It was last night's visitor (the gent) who said it was worth seeing for he's very interested in political affairs. His wife, somewhat less so. He was discussing the history of the East India Company when she turned to me and said,

"That's why I never vote"

I laughed, not sure what to make of it. But perhaps she's right. Maybe all politics are a matter of Company Misrule.

Every Picture: Hideaway

It was around half-three this afternoon that I pulled into a little supermarket on the Cushendall Road that I realised I had been up for over ten hours. I'd just got back from Cushendall where I'd dropped Hannah, Ziggy, guitar, walking shoes and assorted reading material to the house pictured above where they planned to spend two days reading, making music, walking and general chilling. I, on the other hand, was having to do stinking grocery shopping as Bert had requested 'nice soda bread' to eat with his haggis.  Ah well, when I'd got that done I could go home, spend a while setting the house to rights after the five girls dressing up and messing about session the previous evening. Then I would chill, enjoy some peace and quiet, just the two extra dogs to look after. Sure, five dogs aren't that many.

So I went into the shop and was immediately angered by its air of crappy hopelessness. And the only soda bread on offer was Ormo which does not meet Nellybert's standards and the milk was over-priced. I was so annoyed that I refused to do any shopping there and walked out past the surly check out lad in glowering, stompy silence. At least I would soon be home. A quick stop at the garage for the necessities of life and where I got teased for my R.J. Kerr soda farl addiction then home where I was enraged to find that the gates were shut. Had to stomp out to open them, drove into the yard, saw two cars where no cars should be and saw and heard at least two small boys roaring through the garden. There were even smaller children in the sun room so I went in the back door, sneaked up the stairs and began gently banging my head on my bedroom window. I stood like that for about five minutes, decided I wasn't going back downstairs to fail miserably at pretending to be pleased to see people. So I got into bed with the Guardian and waited for them all to fuck off. There were door slammings and the sound of small children being toileted and all sorts of disturbing noises which stressed me out but still I stayed in bed. And eventually, maybe an hour later, the house cleared.

I got up and enquired of Bert who the second car had belonged to and it turned out that it was another young couple with two children (there had been six children down there!) and this young couple I'd asked around (anytime) the last time I'd seen the Daddy in his shop. Oh well.

It's been a stressful few days. So, if you're reading this, and you know me and you were thinking of dropping over tomorrow. Don't!

Every Picture: Box Barrows and A Windmill

I have sat up in the other sitting room with Bert and Brendan and Howard and the craic, as they say, was mighty. It always is when Brendan's in the room for he could talk for Ireland, and often does.

Conversations ranged from politics to box barrows with the windmill at Knockloughrim somewhere in the middle.

I asked everyone who was the first politician you became aware of as a child. Howard said Shirley Williams, Bert admitted to Georges Pompidou (because he had a funny name), my picks were Nixon and Kennedy and Brendan claimed that his first memory of a politician was Bernadette Devlin. That struck me as odd as Brendan is around the same age as she was when she was elected to Westminster. I recalled that the day after the election the Daily Mirror had a front page picture of her sitting on a swing and I thought it was extremely patronising of the paper.

Anyway, Brendan admitted that he remembered the news coming through about the Kennedy assassination. He was at a dance listening to the Grafton Showband when the band was asked to stop playing and the announcement was made from the stage. The show was pronounced over and everyone went home.

Other politicians and advisors discussed and dissected were Obama, Clinton, Reagan, Ahern, Adams, O'Neill, Poots, Trump, Foster, McGuinness, McCausland, Bannon, Campbell, Givan, Nesbitt, May, Brokenshire, McGuinness and Kenny. Few were spoken of admiringly, perhaps three or four.

We moved on to dead comedians. Brendan confessed a liking for Tommy Cooper, Howard said he always enjoyed Dave Allen, I spoke up for Groucho Marx and Bert said he still liked Benny Hill. I lit on him for this and said he needn't think he was going to trick me into divorcing him as I intended to stay married to him until the day he died.

One thing led to another and someone mentioned Knockloughrim. Howard said the windmill there was falling to pieces. The structure has experienced a fair bit of wear and tear since it was first built in the latter part of the 19th century. It lost its sails and roof in a storm. The current roof is a replacement and although some say that the original was also onion shaped, there is no proof. The windmill has had many uses one of which was a meeting place for the local Orange Order.

When Brendan got on to the box barrows that his granda used to make in his blacksmith's shop I made my excuses and left. I had heard the tale before but I left happy in the knowledge that Howard hadn't. And I had a blog to write. And stewed fruit and plain yoghurt to eat.

If anyone knows what a box barrow actually is I'd be pleased to know. I really should have listened to Brendan. Maybe Bert will know.

The Weekend of Pies

These past weekends have been busy, busy and yet, I barely left the house. My first husband and his beloved were here this past weekend and stayed with Nellybert on Thursday night. The beds cooled on Friday then we had Jazzer and Ben on Saturday. Bert went to a bachelor party (Young Rainey is getting married!) and Jazzer and I drank wine. I'd been at that oul craic on Thursday too and sure it tires a body out. Tonight I drank no wine but racked a rhubarb and a blackcurrant. Had tastes (as one must) and found the rhubarb to be good and the blackcurrant a tad on the sweet side.

On the Thursday I made a cheese and onion pie as Mick doesn't eat meat and it went down well. the pastry was delicious. On Friday we had a lot of visitors and as the last one was gathering up to leave I said to Bert,

Any thoughts about supper?

And he said,

I just put a pie in the oven.

Which was all very well except it was a stinking pie for one he'd bought at the garage earlier in the day.

So what am I going to eat?
Sure you went out for breakfast this morning with Mick and Linda.
Breakfast? That was nine hours ago. And you were invited too.

I was raging. So while he helped himself to a factory made pastry and dog food pie and a slice of bread and butter I made myself a proper dinner of chili sausages, garden peas, onion gravy and mashed potato. Boy did I take trouble over that one spud, mashed it and buttered it to perfection. My plan was to eat it in front of him and take great pleasure in his dinner envy. I was going to serve him a couple of Rennies as those shop bought pies can be indigestible. In the event, I shared my lovely supper with him even though he didn't deserve it. I'm far too soft-hearted

Then next day it was Jazzer. She is always planning ahead when it comes to eating and likes to take control of the cooking as she is very particular about her food. For a start she doesn't like cooked vegetables. She fancied steak pieces and I suggested a pie. She cooked the filling. It was good enough but she has a heavy hand with the Oxo cubes. The pastry, delicious as always, lightened it. Jazzer always serves potatoes with pie. I would never do that as it is double carbs. Not that I care about the calories - it just seems a bit stodgy. I prefer vegetables or salad. And Jazzer's mash is scary. I think she puts about half a pound of butter in it and you  can feel your arteries furring up with every forkful.

So pie and mash will be off the menu for a day or two. Tonight it was home cooked soda bread and butternut squash soup, tomorrow spaghetti bolognese. No wine until the weekend. I'll let you know how I got on with that.

December Daily Post, No. 30

Any day that begins with eating Zoe's delicious Yule log for breakfast is going to be a messy, chaotic, action-packed 16 hours. And of course this all takes place without me actually leaving the house apart from a 20 minute pop to the shop to stock up on bread and milk and all the things that were going cheap after Christmas.

Today's visitors were Martha, Evie and their parents and their two dogs, then Billy and his two year old twins, next Peter and six year old Curtis, then Gareth and two pre-schoolers and Mr & Mrs The Wee Manny who were, I believe, hoping for a quiet half-hour before returning to their house of four dogs and three under-fives. The Wee was wearing a new red and green top, a navy pointed knitted hat and looked exactly like a retired elf. In the later part of the day we had Hannah and her friend who stayed for supper. The Misses Martha and Evie are staying the night so it will be full on for Nellybert until tomorrow's dark evening. Sure what else would we be at?

December Daily Post, No. 6

Today I -

• Walked fast for 30 minutes.
• Worked in the poly tunnel.
• Cleaned house in a dilatory fashion.
• Read The Guardian magazine.
• Grocery shopped.
• Received visitors, three of them dogs.
• Applied drops to Bert's eye. He got the Sticky Eye Disease too. Karma for being grumpy and not listening to me about the towels.
• Made a plain dinner with spuds.

Preparations for Christmas? Not a thing but Martha's present arrived from Amazon. And I may have thought about baking a Christmas cake.

Best part of the day? Overlapping visitors when two small boys met one delightful Jack Russell Terrier puppy.  No photographs as little boys and small dogs won't stay still for a second.

Howard can stay still. Sprollies not so much.

Quiet Night In

Our first visitor came at just after 10am. He and his friend arrived moments after Bert got up. I'd been up and around for a few hours but was not quite ready to start the day. Oh well.

After H & D left I went out for an hour or so. On my return the yard was full. Rod and his mum, Les showing us his amazing cauliflowers, Aunt Lizzie and her new dog. I started to make lunch. We were just about to serve when Young Rooney and his young lad turned up. The boy headed straight for the sand pile and began digging. Young Rooney came in to oversee our lunch. He did not stay long but before he left Young Loveheart appeared. Rooney and Loveheart used to be close friends but they're odd with each other these days. Bert and I don't mind. We're used to people being odd with each other at our place.

I had a phone call from Swisser. We chatted about this and that. she said she thought she might call up. I agreed that this sounded like a good idea. Loveheart and Bert were working in the polytunnel, Lizzie was stroking about with her new dog. The phone went. It was Jazzer. They were thinking of coming up. Why not says I, just the two of you? No Erin and Ben and the dog. Sure. Why not? It'll only take a moment to change the beds.

Jazzer wanted to cook but I dug my heels in. I care too much about getting vegetables to let Jazzer cook so we spent half a week's grocery money on an Indian take-out from the Khyber. Bert went to fetch it and said he'd seen Mel in town although she hadn't seen him. Then I got a phone call. It was Hannah. Are you at home. Oh yes. Jakers, Mel and I are thinking of calling out. Sure that will be lovely, see you soon.

So - 17 people and 2 dogs. Just another ordinary day at Nellybert's.

Visitors

Monday: Every day we have Pearlie's team of carers, 3 single carers and 4 doubles. Every day. Some are quiet, some are noisy. Some come roaring through the door in mid-conversation, some slam doors behind them. Mostly they never wipe their feet. They haven't the time. I know we are lucky to have this level of care. And most of the carers are lovely people. But they are still - in my house - all day long.

Also on Monday we had Miss Martha, her dad and her grandfather (who is also my first husband) and Miss Martha's two dogs. We had, briefly, R. Bluebird, his mum and their dog. R. Bluebird calls up pretty often with fruit and veg for the pigs. He nearly forgot his dog. She's a dote and we could keep her but she doesn't get on well with Miss Martha's dog. They sort of hate each other. There was lots of snarling and snapping.

Hector called to see Pearlie. He slipped in and slipped out and I hardly even knew he was there. I wish all Pearlie's callers were like that.

While I went to Miss Martha's second birthday party in town Bert entertained his friend Bilrus. So not counting the eleven carers we had seven humans and three dogs visit with us on Monday.

Tuesday: Quieter day. Bert went out a-visiting himself so I was hoping for a peaceful day with just me and Pearlie and with nothing else to do for her but keep her fire on. Was not to be. Pearlie's niece called just after Bert left and was here until 8:30pm. There is lots of toing and froing, little delicacies being prepared, re-positioning of pencils and other business. Around seven hours of it. I go picking beans and damsons while Pearlie is pandered to. Apparently no-one can mix her laxatives like Niece, or like Hannah. Bert is useless at it. Laxative all lumpy when Bert prepares it. And me? I don't do medicines. I just do laundry and cleaning and wipe up after the carers. I also have occasional murderous thoughts but we won't go there. I offer the Niece her Aunt as full-time house guest but she declines. It must be nice to have a home you can relax in. I wouldn't know. Relatively quiet day. Eleven carers, two physiotherapists, one very long visit from Niece. No dogs. Don't be getting me wrong now for I am very fond of Niece and she is often a great help with Pearlie. It's just that I envy her the home that she can relax in.