Party Time (The Wounded)

Every party has at least one defining moment. At Hannah’s party that moment came when Glen tripped over somebody’s bag, fell against the TV and sliced his cheek open. It must have been the shock (surely not the paltry few ciders he’d drunk) that turned him green and had him swooning like a girl. And so the cry went up,

He’ll need stitches in that!

Is he concussed?

Is he dead?

Who’ll drive him to the hospital?

I will!

Are you phoning an ambulance?

Pardon?

Did somebody hit him?

No!!

Och he’ll be alright. Let’s get him up!

We need bandages! Now!

What?

Where’s the first aid kit?

What?

Can you drive him to the hospital?

Get him up!

Feck! He’s down again. Catch him!

Don’t crowd him!

Sure there’s no need of the hospital. Do you fancy sitting eight hours in Casualty on a Saturday night?

No way!

We need steri-strips. You got steri-strips?

No.

What’s that Glen?

I’m going to no fucking hospital.

Fair enough.

And so we patched his wound up somehow. Jazzer played Nursie and I took photos. Glen said,

I hope you’re not for putting that on the internet.

Sure what odds? Aren’t you moving to Australia?

At the post-party discussions the first question was,

Where were you when Glen went down?

I gather the Kurt Cobain look-alike thought the Pete Doherty look-alike punched Glen to the ground.

I’m told Young Loveheart thought it was a whole lot of fuss about nothing. But then he would.

I hear that when the Pete Doherty look-alike expressed concern about Glen and asked where he was that Ploppy Pants told him we had him hanging by his heels from the banisters because that was the best way to treat a head wound. The Pete Doherty look-alike is supposed to have said, “I don’t think so mate,” and went off to check.

And what of Glen? See for yourself.

Party Time (The Doomed Rock Stars)

Party Time (The Swingers)

The oldies showed the young'uns a good example as always.

Of Sticks and Starlings

Why do old country women hate starlings so? Matty never had any time for them – said they were dirty birds and full of fleas. And Pearlie and Lizzie seem to detest them too. Pearlie hates most birds unless they’re the pretty garden variety. She loathed pigeons, used to climb ladders to kill the squabs in their nests and claims to have killed crows by swinging at them with her stick.

We’ve a starling’s nest in one of the chimneys. Matty said, when she heard of it, that they’d fill the house ‘full of fleas’ but despite her dire warnings we’ve not lit a fire for ages for fear of singeing their little birdy bottoms. Then there’s the one that cheeps all night. At first we thought it was deserted in the nest and there was one night I was heartscalded listening to it and thinking of it starving to death. But it, or something, is still cheeping well into the night so I suspect it’s just a hungry hoor.

Aunt Lizzie heard it and wasn’t pleased. “If I got it,” she said, “I’d hit it a chap with my stick. That’d put the cheeping out of it! Them starlings is nothing but rubbitch!”

In my opinion old women shouldn’t be allowed to have sticks. They’re always waving them about, trying to hit people and chapping wee innocent birds.

Then Lizzie goes and leaves her stick in the van when Bert left her home. Pearlie was vexed and made Bert bring it into her house to ‘keep it out of harm’s way’. Bert says to his ma,

Sure what harm would it come to in the van?

Ye’d only loase it!

How would I lose it?

Oh – ye’d likely be kepping bastes way it or chapping something way it.

Sure what would I be kepping? D’ye think I drive about the country looking for bastes to kep?

Well ye might be hemmering something way it and break it!

Later Bert says to me,

Can you just see it - I’m wanting to drive a nail and I say to myself, ‘Now will I use this hammer here or will I just use Aunt Lizzie’s stick?’

And it turns out that the cheeping starling is actually a short eared owl. I saw it this evening! I wonder if Lizzie will still want to chap it with her stick?

Party Time (The Bebo Crowd)

We had Hannah's leaving party on Saturday night. It was great fun. Hannah and I are too exhausted to blog about it but we will. Someone has posted photos on Bebo already. Zoe has some pictures too.

Time for a new icon

What Did She Say??, originally uploaded by ZMB.

I like this picture. Fuzzy white hair, large hand, yellow teeth and all. It's how I see myself.

Study Update

All this time away from the blog and do you know how much revision I have done?

1. Zilch
2. Nada
3. Naethin'
4. Eff All

Just so you know. I have been putting the finishing touches to my coursework. And cleaning the house. And starting this Flickr group.

Katkin's Catkin

Watch Out, originally uploaded by KatyKatkins.

Excuses, Excuses

Blogging will be lighter than usual over the next four weeks because I will be working in my garden... and studying for an exam.

There is also a party to be organised next weekend for Bert will soon be 48 and Hannah is going to Thailand... and I have an exam in June.

Then there is our visit to Norfolk. Zoe, Katy and I will be visiting the English Bowyers, Mick and Katy and their partners Linda and Mark.... it will be a welcome break from studying for my exam. Which is the second week in June.

Oh! And I mustn't forget about teaching practice. I've that to get out of the way....before my exam. In June.

Then Bert is going to Northern Spain for a week and I will have sole responsibility for dogs, cat, hens and Pearlie. That's a week before my exam.

So I'm going to be busy. Revising for an exam.

Me Too!

Which God or Goddess are you like? Your Result: The Christian God You are the Holy Lord. You are the shepherd and those that follow you are your lambs. You are kind and patient, but when need be, you are vile and creul. You are often asked for advise or wisdom, and you willingly give it. Congratulations!! You are God!!
Jesus
Budha
Goddess Bast
Goddess Sekhemet
Satan
God Zeus
You are your own God or Goddess
Which God or Goddess are you like? Make Your Own Quiz

You paid attention during 80% of high school!

68-84% Pretty good, you know that there are libraries and newspapers, and you remember what you've read. You were a child that wasn't left behind!

Do you deserve your high school diploma?
Create a Quiz

Found (where else?) at Ed's Place.

Pity Poor Paris

Celebrity heiress Paris Hilton is backing an online petition seeking a pardon of her 45-day prison sentence because she enlivens "mundane" lives.

Well I don't know about the rest of you but my mundane life will certainly be brightened as I think of her doing jail time.

Dry your eyes Paris! If you can't do the time then you shouldn't a done the crime.

I'll bet she gets off anyway.

Industrial Injury

I was rinsing out a few cups in work today when I spotted our pet spider getting drowned in the soapy water. Hurriedly I gathered him up to safety and do you know what? The bastard bit me! In panic I hurled Spidey to the floor and inspected my savaged finger. It was sort of itchy and scratchy and sore. I wondered (briefly) if it was a poisonous spider but sensibly decided that it was not. After all have you ever heard of a poisonous spider in Ireland? I kept an eye on my wound but it did not swell up or turn black which I took to be a good sign.

And what of Spiro the Spider? I scooped him up in a plastic glass and laid him on a tea towel to dry out. When I checked later he had scuttled off.

To take my mind off the arachnoid assault I watched live coverage of the events at Stormont. Tony looked smug and happy. Bertie looked sleekit and happy. Ian looked stern and happy. Martin looked grim and happy. And Gerry looked shifty. But I don't think he can help that.

And in the parlance of Ulster-Scots I noticed there was a quare ween o' they wee dafties aboot the place.

Being A Good Recycler

Other people hoard stuff. I keep things because they are important.

Bert's Aunt Nessie keeps, among other things, every loaf wrapping she's ever had - in case they should come in useful. Now if I were to list all the things that Nessie hoards I'd be here all day. Enough to say that there is just one narrow path through her house that is filled to the rafters with stuff. It is a blessing unto God that she never goes out to get more stuff and a further blessing that she only spends about three and sixpence a week so the amount of stuff trickling into her house these days is very minimal.

It must run in the family because Pearlie is also a hoarder. She still owns the box that Bert's first feeding bottle was packaged in. Actually she's got a bit of a thing about boxes. When she was on her feet a bit more she spent many a happy day sorting through her boxes. The idea was to get a box that fitted snugly inside another box. You'd get some great yoke of a box that once contained a television set and inside it would be a box that a vacuum cleaner came in. Inside that would be a microwave box and so on until you reached the little box in the middle which once held a bottle of eardrops or some other small thing.

Pearlie also hoarded scraps of fabric which she'd use to patch her aprons and knickers. She particularly liked silky labels and she'd often stitch these to her knickers so she'd know which way round to wear them.

But me? I never hoard things. I only keep stuff that is truly useful. Like all my old assignments from university. You'd never know when they might be needed.

Then I caught myself on. They're in the blue recycling bin as I speak. Obviously I removed them from their shabby presentation folders because you never know when one of those might come in handy.

Randomness

I've been tagged by Ronni to do this meme. I've maybe been here before but I disremember.

1. I know all my times-tables up to 13. This is thanks to my primary school teacher Cassie who, literally, battered them into us.

2. When I was ten I read a book about a pious child called Elsie Dinsmore. This inspired me to fantasise about scenarios in which I led Elsie into all kinds of mischief and evil. In my imaginings Elsie would cry piteously as I encouraged her to do all kinds of wicked things. I don't think this was the effect that the author had hoped for.

3. Since childhood the song I loathe more than any other song ever written is 'I Dream of Jeannie with the Light Brown Hair.' I think I may have heard it scraiked by one tuneless Aunt too many. It didn't help that I have a sister with a name not dissimilar to Jeannie and who had a head of glossy, light brown hair. I wonder if my detestation of the tune stems from my disliking her getting a bit of the attention for a change. Bert is currently learning this melody and I fantasise hourly about doing unspeakable things to his clarinet.

4. The first time I ever went to the cinema (to see Seven Brides for Seven Brothers in Randalstown!) my sophisticated, urban cousin Kathleen did not explain to me or my sister that the cinema seats pushed down and allowed us country cousins to perch most uncomfortably on the edge of the upturned seats. Fair play to her she perched there too . Despite this I still enjoyed the film although my arse didn't.

5. I'm not much travelled. I was over 40 before I got a passport. The first place I ever visited outside the British Isles was South Africa. The last place was the USA. I've never even been to France or Spain.

6. Apparently I'm barred from working for the NHS. When I was an 18-year old student nurse I walked out of Holywell hospital after a row with Matron. She spat at me as I walked out the door, "I'll see to it that you never work in a hospital again!"

7. I was a breech baby and weighed 5 and a half pounds at birth. I stayed at a low weight for quite a while. When I was about nine months old I got pneumonia and was admitted to hospital. Matty signed me out because I got serious nappy rash. When I was about a year I got hold of the dog's worm tablets and dosed myself. Matty said I never looked back after this.

No tagging as is my custom. You canna if you wanna.

Scrabble

Bert: Is ‘uj’ a word?

Nelly: No. Say Swisser what do you think about Paris Hilton going to jail?

Swisser: I think it’s just terrible that they’re sending her to jail. Now what am I going to do with these two Vs? Is Scrabble supposed to have two Vs?

Hannah: Ours does.

Nelly: Well she did keep on driving even after she was banned for being under the influence. How long are you going to be?

Hannah: Here Swisser let me see…you could get ‘motive’ in there. That would get rid of one of your Vs.

Swisser: Excellent. Thanks Hannah. So Paris Hilton thought she could do what she liked? Maybe she does deserve jail.

Bert: Huh! Hannah just wants you to open up the board so she can get at that triple letter word.

Nelly: So? She’ll hardly beat you now not with that lead. Anyway I can’t see Paris Hilton doing jail time. She’ll get off somehow. It’ll give her a scare though.

Swisser: Why are rich and powerful people so corrupt?

Nelly: They’re not all like that. We just don’t hear so much about the ones who act decently.

Swisser: Well I was reading in the Times last week, maybe you seen it, about this group of rich and powerful German businessmen who organised so-called business trips with private jets, fancy hotels, cocaine and prostitutes. Then they’d buy £5000 trinkets to keep their wives happy.

Nelly: Hear that Bert? You buy me £5000 trinkets and you get to go with prostitutes.

Bert: Huh! What would you do with a £5000 trinket?

Swisser: More to the point Bert – what would you do with a prostitute?

Bert: Very droll. Nice one Swisser.

Hannah: Or you could use that extra V and make ‘votive’.

Swisser: Votive? That’s not a word.

Nelly: It sure is. But too late now. You’re not having it.

A Self Portrait A Day

213 / 365, originally uploaded by Echo9er.

Earlier today I posted a particularly lovely picture of Bonnie to a German Shepherd group I belong to. And it was there I spotted this image. There were several things about the photograph that attracted me - namely the two dogs and the bookshelves. I liked echo9er's tartan pyjamas too and the fact that his dogs were allowed on the furniture.

But the most interesting thing on echo9er's Flickr was the series of self portraits. He is going for 365 self portraits over the course of a year. I found that idea scary and intriguing.

Is it an act of vanity to take a year's worth of self portraits? I think it is not. It might display a degree of self interest but is there anything wrong with that? And when a person is not in the first flush of youth and beauty is it not rather a brave thing to do? What do you think?

Responsibilities

Where I Work, originally uploaded by NellyMoser.

I'm very busy these days.

Busy with my studies (or so I like to convince myself), busy in the greenhouse, busy playing with my new camera and busy at work.

In work I have two new responsibilities - I am in charge of Construction Schedules and I am in charge of Tubs & Hanging Baskets.

Yesterday I was only in charge of Tubs but my boss went to the garden centre today and doubled my workload in that department. I fear my thumbs are going to go untwiddled and my nails unfiled. Which is good.

The House Choir

And to think I used to complain about the tin whistle. At least he played some lively tunes on that. I now know how Jazzer felt the time she cut the strings on Banjo Man's tenor banjo.

How am I supposed to do assignments with that racket going on?

Things To Do On A Saturday

1. Go do planty things in the greenhouse.
2. Have major tussle with vile pampas grass. Lose.
3. Go see Jolly Joe about car getting MOTd.

4. Take Matty to Homebase and buy loads more seeds.
5. Take Matty to new charity shop in Antrim Town. Buy a book.
6. Take Matty and Rosie to Lough Shore and buy strawberry ice creams.

7. Take camera out to fields and sneak up on rare and exotic wildlife and take lots of photographs of same.
8. Do some work for seriously overdue college assignment.
9. Give Hannah a lift into town.
10. Eat chocolate. Mess around on computer.
11. Forget to call Joe to hear if car got through MOT.

Conversations With The Hearing Impaired

Conversation 1

Matty: Your Kerry Sister says that this really short-haired look for men is all to do with up here. She says nobody in Dingle has their head shaved.

Nelly: Ach sure what would Dingle know about anything! It’s all mad tourists there anyway.

Matty: She says none of the locals have their hair shaved and her Brendan is growing his long.

Nelly: Well don’t forget your darling youngest son has a number 1.

Matty: Aye but he’d need to. What would he be like him with long hair and none on the top and the bunches of ginger curls growing out the side?

(Sorry Joe. Couldn’t resist.)

Conversation 2

Nelly: There’s this great garden centre I must take you to. Bert says it’s the best one he delivers to and it’s not far from here.

Matty: Oh is it that one in the Ecos Centre that Kerry Sister took me to?

Nelly: No. But that one’s great too. The one Bert’s talking about is on the Cockhill Road.

Matty: Where? Your road?

Nelly: No. The Cockhill Road.

Matty: The Clough Road?

Nelly: No! Cockhill! Near Slaght.

Matty: Cloughmills?

Nelly: No! Cockhill. Am I going to have to write it down for you?

Suddenly Nelly has brainwave and decides to act out Cockhill. She just gets as far as the first syllable when Matty puts her out of the house.

A Lunchtime Walk

When the weather is fine, or even when it’s not, I like to go for a walk at lunchtime. But working in a village doesn’t give me much scope for walks. I’ve been everywhere now. I've done the graveyards, the riverside walks, up past the primary school, gone lurking behind the water pump station. Everywhere. And because it’s a village they all get to know you and by now they’ll be thinking,

There goes that loopy woman who’s always tramping aimlessly about the place.

At least in Ballymena a person out walking looked as if she might actually be going somewhere.

Are there not any beauty spots near your work place? - I hear you ask.

Indeed there is. There is Tardree Forest. And it’s only a couple of miles away. It’s a lovely place with excellent views of Lough Neagh and the Sperrins beyond. Some good hillside trails too. It’s just the sort of spot a PA (hah!) with a newspaper, an apple and some sandwiches could go to while away a lunch hour. And take in a nice, brisk stomp around the forest paths for her health’s sake.

Now go google ‘Tardree Forest’.

I have to say that I knew the forest’s reputation. I’d been warned. But I also believed that the part I was in was used by chaps solely interested in other chaps. I’d been informed that the hetero action took place in a car park off the Parkgate Road. So I thought I was safe enough in the gay bit and I kept my head stuck in my paper and totally blanked out the occasional vehicle that went past. I couldn’t help noticing that there was one little blue car that passed me four times. The driver just seemed to be circling around. He slowed down and stared as he passed me but I pretended not to notice.

I felt a little bit uncomfortable and not sure whether I should take a walk. But being an idiot decided to chance it. As soon as his car was out of sight I went off road and into the forest and didn’t see one other soul. Fifteen minutes later I returned to my car and, still off road, I spotted the blue car again. Because I was sheltered by the trees I took a good look. The driver was a man who, I’d guess, was well into his sixties. Oh well. It was a nice day for a drive. You’ll note I don’t mention the make of the car. You’d never know who’d be reading this.

It’s a pity – but I don’t think I’ll be back in Tardree Forest again unless it’s with Bert and the dogs.

Instead I shall go walking on the Greenfield Road where strange creatures abound. Is this some kind of bear? Or ape?

Movie Dump

That other silly blog I've got looks like it might be turning into a repository for my new camera video clips. Things never turn out the way you expect them to.

The News From China

'A SHOW crocodile in a Chinese amusement park has been shot to death after it dragged a nine-year-old schoolboy into its pond and devoured him.

Several youths had climbed over the fence at the Yintan resort in Beihai and were hitting animals with sticks and rocks when one croc took hold of the boy's clothes and pulled him into the water, the Beijing Morning Post said today.

A swarm of up to 11 crocodiles then ate the boy, the report said.'

Boy tortures crocodile. Bad
Crocodile eats boy. Good
Men shoot crocodile. Bad
Ten crocodiles get away with it. Good

The New Camera

I bought the Canon PowerShot A710 and so far I'm pleased with it. Zoe informs me that it comes highly recommended for the older user as it's design makes it easy for arthritic fingers to manage and it comes with an anti-shake function that evens out our palsy and tremors.

It's capacity to make mini-movies is far superior to my previous camera and I've already got some interesting footage of Clint and Lizzie discussing, in Ulster Scots and off-camera, the best way to rear goslings while the camera follows the fluffy goose babies.

Of course I'd like to share these. But how? They're a bit too long for YouTube. Any recommendations for editing tools?

A Tale of Patched Drawers

Do you know what I’m starting to hate? I’m starting to hate recycling. It used to be a buzz back in the day when it was just us sandal-wearing, patchwork-skirted, fuzzy-haired, hippy types did it. But now that it’s become a moral duty I despise it.

When those that lord over us were giving out the red recycling bins we didn’t get one. This miffed me and I phoned and moaned until I was given two of them. I rued it that very first day when the delivery man explained to me that the bins had tracking devices in the lids. That statement made me feel very queasy. Nevertheless I persevered and diligently filled the bins with bottles and plastic containers. There were explanatory leaflets but I ignored those. I do remember reading that they’d take tins but that they had to be washed. Yeah! I’d look well using my expensive hot water to wash out stinking tins so I continued to throw those in the bin. And you are supposed to separate everything out but I never bothered. So yesterday when I collected the bins from the bottom of the lane I found that the collectors had scrawled plastic on one and glass on the other and I was raging. Telling me what to do! I think I might take those red boxes a mile or two down the road and throw them over the hedge. I could always claim that vandals stole them from me.

Recycling is a load of shite. Recently we had a pavement built on part of our road which necessitated a lot of tree felling. Instead of one lorry hauling the trunks away in just a few loads there was a huge shredding machine hired to shred the trees. Needless to say it took days, used vast quantities of diesel to run the shredder, belched out black reek and took very many lorries very many days to carry it all away. What good did that do the environment? And of course as the whole enterprise was being funded by the council the cost of it was coming out of our pockets.

Then there’s our friend who works for one of those companies who trade in recycled clothes. I’m pretty sure that’s a total scam. They set up these big collecting bins and hint that it’s for charity and maybe charity does get just enough to keep them from paying the full whack of tax. Anyways the majority of the donated garments end up in places like Africa and Eastern Europe and obviously this is going to have a detrimental effect on local clothing and textile production and all the poor Kenyan and Romanian kids have to dress like spides.

So sod modern day recycling. It’s a con. It’s not like it was in Pearlie’s day - as I was thinking this evening when I was hanging out her patched candy stripe flannelette sheets. She used to patch and darn everything - sheets, towels, face flannels, tea towels, her aprons and even her knickers. Really old and worn out beyond redemption stuff would be kept to patch other things. Recently she was very cross with me after I threw out two pairs of her patched panties. I explained to her that I had to do it in case the carers thought we were spending all of her pension on drink and drugs and wouldn’t even buy her a pair of dacint drawers!

Just Call Me Mrs Mop

Today I am setting myself a challenge. In fact I am setting myself several challenges. I am going to wash all the office floors and I am going to write an interesting blog post. Obviously this isn’t it.

Ganching (on Flickr) is no more. Long live Ganching1

pelicans in newcastle, originally uploaded by ganching1.

Sadly that terrible eedgit Ganching deleted her Flickr account. We shouldn't mock for any of us could accidentally find ourselves deleting our bought and paid for pro account, losing all our contacts, denying our many fans our strange pictures of bits of scaffolding, delpht and coffee cake.

But she's devastated now that she has no comments or faves any more, no pictures most popular or most viewed. So to cheer her up why don't you head over to her Flickr account and say something nice about her photies.

Before & After

attracta, originally uploaded by NellyMoser.

That is what Attracta and the others looked like this time last year.

And this is what she (and the others) look like today. Nellybert is so going to heaven.

Must Be Getting Old Then

The other day Hannah says to me,

Mr X has got a really chubby ass.

Has he? I never noticed.

Then I realised - I've met Mr X on many's an occasion and I've never once looked at his bum. Obviously Hannah has. This is yet another sign that I'm getting on in years. Young men's bums no longer hold any interest for me.

Happy Birthday Hannah

Aaah! Birthdays. The perfect excuse to get out those dodgy old pre-digital photographs that lie around in boxes. Here's one the hamsters didn't nibble.

It's Hannah getting intimate with the late and lamented Danny (wonderdog, best dog ever) and I do hope we reminded her to wash her hands after the picture was taken.

A Sad Homecoming

Our friends, the Wee Manny's, have just got back from a short holiday in Brazil to hear the sad news that one of their dogs, Jock, was killed on the road last night. Jock was a great wee dog. Animals can be such a heartbreak.

And Clint has just lost a clocking goose and eight eggs. Fuck you Foxy. Why could it not have been you instead of Jock?

Catinabag

Warning! Cute picture alert!



Hanging about in grocery bags has to be one of Holly de Cat's favourite hobbies.

Lemon Cheesecake

This recipe is for Mr & Mrs Jolly Joe.

INGREDIENTS

8 oz digestive biscuits

3 oz butter

2 packages Philadelphia cream cheese

1 tbsp cornflour

1 tsp vanilla essence

3 eggs

5 oz caster sugar

8 fl oz double cream or Greek yogurt

The grated zest of one lemon

METHOD

Preheat the oven to 180ºC/350ºF/Gas 4.

Oil a 9 inch spring-form cake tin and line the base with greaseproof paper.

Crush biscuits and melt butter. Mix together and press down to bottom of tin to form an even layer.

Mix the cream cheese, cornflour, vanilla essence, sugar and eggs and beat until smooth. A food processor is pretty useful here. Add the double cream or yogurt and the lemon zest. Pour the mixture into the tin and bake for 30 minutes.

When baking is complete switch off the oven and leave the cheesecake to cool very slowly. When cooling is complete chill the cheesecake until ready to serve. The spring-form tin will make it very simple to transfer the cheesecake to a serving plate.

Serve with lemon sauce.

Anyone know a good recipe for lemon sauce?

Matty's Best Dog Ever

Matty isn't big on dogs but here is the one who won her heart. This was Jess who died of old age a good few years ago.

"Randalstown is..."

The following 'facts' were gleaned from the interweb. Obviously this means that they are indisputable.I have it on the best authority that the fellow on the left is (allegedly) a fourth cousin, twice removed, of John Wayne the Hollywood film star. I think you'll have to agree that the resemblance is startling.

1. Randalstown is a small town in County Antrim, Northern Ireland

2. Randalstown is where John Wayne’s ancestors come from

3. Randalstown is a lovely wee town

4. Randalstown is approximately 6.75 kilometres long

5. Randalstown is a relatively narrow and undulating rural route

6. Randalstown is a pretty village on Lough Neagh

7. Randalstown is behind us

8. Randalstown is being used

9. Randalstown is still unsettled, and likely to be so for some time

10. Randalstown is going to wreck and cannot recover unless the mills are occupied

11. Randalstown is a City in Antrim

12. Randalstown is not the correct location

13. Randalstown is fairly evenly balanced (54% Catholic)

14. Randalstown is actively involved in the family farm

15. Randalstown is a place of thrills

16. Randalstown is offline

17. Randalstown is noted for its beautiful arched stone bridges

18. Randalstown is entirely heated by two 30kW geothermal heat pumps

19. Randalstown is the Best

20. Randalstown is a complete shithole

21. Randalstown is absolutely rubbish

22. Randalstown is only up the road frum ickle me!!!

23. Randalstown is so much more than that. We got two bridges…

24. Randalstown is a fenian hole

Easter Blogmeet Continued

I have to say that day trips to Belfast can be quite exhausting for an old countrywoman like myself. The crowds, the emo kids, the beggars, the scummers, the flat-earthers and the bloggers can be quite a heady mix.

It was Marc who said something like,

God! Belfast is simply hootching with scummers!

And there was me thinking that it was a classy sort of crowd compared to the types we see hanging around Cully's street corners.

But apparently Norn Iron is completely nasty when held up against the fair city of Cambridge. There is no punting on the Lagan, we all talk funny, there are too many spides and not enough dons and there are horrid hills everywhere. And to top the lot the ticket machines in Castle Court won't take Bank of England banknotes! Blatant racism.

But as Ed said it was a good day and even Mr Bolan was impressed with his complimentary Cadbury's Creme Egg.

Miss California attempted to humiliate Beowulf as is traditional but he bore it with dignity and patience. Not one trace of a trace of a salty tear. It was good to meet Cyberscribe at last. There were others too...good lads all. They may be turning up on the blogroll some day very soon.

Now here's a thing - Ed maintains that there has never been a famous personage, hero or celebrity come out of Randalstown! Does anyone know any different?

In Which I Attend A Meeting of the Flat Earth Society

Zoe, Hannah and myself took ourselves off for a day trip to Belfast. We got one of those new-fangled electric trains. The noise of it was horrendous. I was lamenting to Zoe about how horrid modern trains are compared to the homely chuff-chuff noise I remember from the steam trains of my youth. I don't know why she thought this was hilarious. Had I been standing then on the platform in Antrim waiting for the parish excursion train to Portrush and one of today's trains had cruised in I'd have thought we'd been invaded by aliens from another galaxy.

Our first port of call was St George's Market where we spent a pleasant hour or so looking at, eating and buying delicious food.

Then the girls...

couldn't be kept out of the shops to browse through the exciting spring fashion arrivals. Sadly I found it all too easy as the shops are full of the clothes that we wore in the seventies and they are just as vile now as they were then. So it was I was standing outside Primark when I saw two handsome and well-dressed young fellows approaching. I hailed them to a stop and it wasn't long before we were engaged in a philosophical conversation centring round the provability of the globosity of the Earth. Truly Belfast is an amazing place because this almost never happens to me whilst standing outside the Spar in Cullybackey.

So it was that Zoe found me and I have to say the expression on her face was one of total horror. She is always unhappy when she finds me in the company of the Flat Earthers.

Hannah is much more tolerant and so it was that she and I allowed ourselves to be carried off by the Flat Earthers while Zoe made good her escape to the safety and sanity of Ballymena....

I'll continue this tale tomorrow when I'm in a more sober frame of mind.

A Good Read?

This meme I've borrowed from El Capitan and Ronni. I've made my own variation in that I'm not just bold-facing the ones I've read but highlighting in red the ones I own and haven't read (yet). It's a funny old list. I don't think Mr Bolan will think much of it.


1. The Da Vinci Code (Dan Brown)
2. Pride and Prejudice (Jane Austen)
3. To Kill A Mockingbird (Harper Lee)
4. Gone With The Wind (Margaret Mitchell)
5. The Lord of the Rings: The Return of the King (J. R. R. Tolkien)
6. The Lord of the Rings: The Fellowship of the Ring (J. R. R. Tolkien)
7. The Lord of the Rings: The Two Towers (J. R. R. Tolkien)
8. Anne of Green Gables (L. M. Montgomery)
9. Outlander (Diana Gabaldon)
10. A Fine Balance (Rohinton Mistry)
11. Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire (J. K. Rowling)
12. Angels and Demons (Dan Brown)
13. Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix (J. K. Rowling)
14. A Prayer for Owen Meany (John Irving)
15. Memoirs of a Geisha (Arthur Golden)
16. Harry Potter and the Philosopher’s Stone (J. K. Rowling)
17. Fall on Your Knees (Ann-Marie MacDonald)
18. The Stand (Stephen King)
19. Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban (J. K. Rowling)
20. Jane Eyre (Charlotte Brontë)
21. The Hobbit (J. R. R. Tolkien)
22. The Catcher in the Rye (J. D. Salinger)
23. Little Women (Louisa May Alcott)
24. The Lovely Bones (Alice Sebold)
25. The Life of Pi (Yann Martel)
26. The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy (Douglas Adams)
27. Wuthering Heights (Emily Brontë)
28. The Lion, The Witch and the Wardrobe (C. S. Lewis)
29. East of Eden (John Steinbeck)
30. Tuesdays with Morrie (Mitch Albom)
31. Dune (Frank Herbert)
32. The Notebook (Nicholas Sparks)
33. Atlas Shrugged (Ayn Rand)
34. 1984 (George Orwell)
35. The Mists of Avalon (Marion Zimmer Bradley)
36. The Pillars of the Earth (Ken Follett)
37. The Power of One (Bryce Courtenay)
38. I Know This Much is True (Wally Lamb)
39. The Red Tent (Anita Diamant)
40. The Alchemist (Paulo Coelho)
41. The Clan of the Cave Bear (Jean M. Auel)
42. The Kite Runner (Khaled Hosseini)
43. Confessions of a Shopaholic (Sophie Kinsella)
44. The Five People You Meet In Heaven (Mitch Albom)
45. The Bible
46. Anna Karenina (Tolstoy)
47. The Count of Monte Cristo (Alexandre Dumas)
48. Angela’s Ashes (Frank McCourt)
49. The Grapes of Wrath (John Steinbeck)
50. She’s Come Undone (Wally Lamb)
51. The Poisonwood Bible (Barbara Kingsolver)
52. A Tale of Two Cities (Charles Dickens)
53. Ender’s Game (Orson Scott Card)
54. Great Expectations (Charles Dickens)
55. The Great Gatsby (F. Scott Fitzgerald)
56. The Stone Angel (Margaret Laurence)
57. Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets (J. K. Rowling)
58. The Thorn Birds (Colleen McCullough)
59. The Handmaid’s Tale (Margaret Atwood)
60. The Time Traveler’s Wife (Audrey Niffenegger)
61. Crime and Punishment (Fyodor Dostoyevsky)
62. The Fountainhead (Ayn Rand)
63. War and Peace (Leo Tolstoy)
64. Interview With The Vampire (Anne Rice)
65. Fifth Business (Robertson Davis)
66. One Hundred Years Of Solitude (Gabriel Garcia Marquez)
67. The Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants (Ann Brashares)
68. Catch-22 (Joseph Heller)
69. Les Miserables (Victor Hugo)
70. The Little Prince (Antoine de Saint-Exupery)
71. Bridget Jones’s Diary (Helen Fielding)
72. Love in the Time of Cholera (Gabriel Garcia Márquez)
73. Shogun (James Clavell)
74. The English Patient (Michael Ondaatje)
75. The Secret Garden (Frances Hodgson Burnett)
76. The Summer Tree (Guy Gavriel Kay)
77. A Tree Grows in Brooklyn (Betty Smith)
78. The World According To Garp (John Irving)
79. The Diviners (Margaret Laurence)
80. Charlotte’s Web (E. B. White)
81. Not Wanted On The Voyage (Timothy Findley)
82. Of Mice And Men (John Steinbeck)
83. Rebecca (Daphne DuMaurier)
84. Wizard’s First Rule (Terry Goodkind)
85. Emma (Jane Austen)
86. Watership Down (Richard Adams)
87. Brave New World (Aldous Huxley)
88. The Stone Diaries (Carol Shields)
89. Blindness (Jose Saramago)
90. Kane and Abel (Jeffrey Archer)
91. In The Skin Of A Lion (Michael Ondaatje)
92. Lord of the Flies (William Golding)
93. The Good Earth (Pearl S. Buck)
94. The Secret Life of Bees (Sue Monk Kidd)
95. The Bourne Identity (Robert Ludlum)
96. The Outsiders (S. E. Hinton)
97. White Oleander (Janet Fitch)
98. A Woman of Substance (Barbara Taylor Bradford)
99. The Celestine Prophecy (James Redfield)
100. Ulysses (James Joyce)

I didn't list any additional books, as my friends from Texas did, but I have read huge amounts of Stephen King, John Irving, du Maurier and all of the Narnia books plus a few other CS Lewis including his SF trilogy.

I've also read almost everything Steinbeck published (not Travels With Charley), a fair bit of Fitzgerald, loads of Dickens and all but a couple of Kingsolver.

Some I've started and not finished - the Bible, Ulysses, LOTR, War & Peace to name the most notable.

Some of the books that I have read were diabolical wastes of time. Dishonourable mentions to Rowling, Fielding, Brown and Archer.

Cruelty to Animals (And Oul Dolls)

I read today that the revised Animal Wefare Bill due out tomorrow will make it an offence for owners to allow pets to become obese. This worries me.

During Pearlie's recent month-long stay in hospital Rosie regained her lithe physique. This was double good as she was recovering from her own injury and lightening up a bit was sure to help her shoulder repair itself. Then Pearlie gets home and Rosie is starting to get a bit tubby again. The reason?

All Pearlie's meals are prepared at Nellybert's. And when these meals are being transported to Pearlie's abode Rosie always accompanies. Pearlie likes to have a bit of canine company when she eats. You should have seen the size of her last dog. The amount of buns and other unsuitable rubbish that dog used to eat - it was a miracle it lived to see 14.

And it starts again with Rosie. There is no point talking to Bert about it because he is the most distracted, careless flibbertygibbet of a man that I have ever known. He just lets those animals walk all over him. It's little wonder that 9 out of 10 times that Rosie and Paddy escape to go scunging it's Bert who was supposed to be looking after them.

So this is what I fear - Rosie turns into a great massive tub and Pearlie is admitted to hospital again only this time she's suffering from malnutrition. And it will be me who takes the rap.

Best Quiz(zes) Ever

One for the computer geeks

I got 9/10. Too easy. Mind you you'd only have to make one mistake....

Only if you've got facial hair and a penis

I didn't do this one for obvious reasons.

Art or Crap?

I only got 6/16. Perhaps you'll do better?

What kind of thinker are you?

Like Charles Darwin and Johnny Morris I am a Naturalist thinker.

Talking Turkey

Meet Big Ernie, Clint's Attack Turkey. When Big Ernie is on the loose Clint has nothing to fear from burglars, robbers or sneak thieves. But Ernie is about to meet his match.

Hello there, Big Ernie. Lovely weather we're having. I do hope it keeps up for the Easter weekend. Are you looking forward to Easter lunch? We are.
G'wan ye sarcastic fecker or I'll hae the goolies of ye!

Ye wudn't be the first and I daresay ye'll hardly be the last! C'mere ye skinny bastard 'til I get a dig at ye!

Aye! Run ye yellow fecker! I'll get ye in the long grass!

Ye bastar...! Urghhh!
I suppose ye thought that was funny! I'll mind ye, ye hoor ye!

Nellybert would like to reassure readers that no actual turkeys were harmed in the making of this blogpost. Clint would also like it to be known that Big Ernie, though temperamental and vicious, is a valued and respected free range turkey who, he hopes, will become the father of very many turkey chicks to come.

Bloggus Interruptus

I'm trying to be the first to post about having just been on the radio on William Crawley's show about blogging in Norn Iron. But Matty just interrupted me by phoning to say she missed it as she'd been listening to the wrong channel. Then she tells me that my cousin's daughter was on TV last night (TV!) so that puts me in my place.

So what did I think? Gratified that my voice ....(interrupted again! by Zoe on the phone.) Anyway very gratified that my voice did not sound as squeaky as I'd feared.

And interesting to hear the voices of other bloggers too.

Roundabout Madness

So here’s me at seven o’clock tonight heading homewards from Matty’s house. I get the length of the Toome Road mini roundabout and as I’m driving on to it there’s a car driving on to the roundabout heading out of Ballymena towards Antrim. Coming behind this car there is a Patton’s van dropping someone off and indicating to turn right. The Patton’s driver steers his van over the top of the roundabout which I’m already on and is enraged to find me impeding his path. So much so that he treats me to a blare of his horn. Convent-educated lady that I am I just mutter to myself, fuck you matey, and go on my merry way.

Then the other week Bert is on the dual carriageway driving out of the town. He’s in the left hand lane of the Ballykeel roundabout driving towards Larne when a driver in a 4x4 mounts the roundabout, drives over it knocking signage everywhere, takes to the air in front of him and crashes into a fence with bits of the motor flying everywhere. Bert just drove on. I think he was in shock.

The Wisdom of Matty

The other day Matty and I were talking about dogs and specifically about cruelty to dogs. She starts this conversation as we were in the car and on our way to Ballymena,

Did you see on the news that boy from above Antrim who was took up for cruelty to an Alsatian dog?

No I didn’t hear about that. What was the story?

Och! He had this Alsatian and he was very bad to it. By the time they caught on to him the poor dog was a rickle of bones way starvation and some oul skin disease and its hair falling out in clumps.

Oh God! Did it have to be put down?

No. The vet said with a bit of care and good treatment it’d probably be all right. It was likely your cousin Finbar was the vet seeing as where it was.

Aye. Likely. It’d be in good hands there. What happened the boy?

I’m not sure. I think maybe he got jail.

Sure it would serve him right.

Aye. He was likely some wee scur of a boy thought a big dog like that would make a man of him. Wee boys is like that you know. He probably took drink as well. The bad wee brute.

As I recounted to Bert later on there if there is anything my mother hates more than a wee man it is a wee man who takes drink. Just as well we don’t know anybody like that. Ahem!

My ma does have some funny notions. Like the one about the fields.

Being brave and stoical I never mentioned a thing to youse ones about the bloody sore leg I gave myself a just over a week ago. Agony it was. I reckon I pulled a muscle in my groin whilst out walking the Friday before last. It took most of a week for the pain to subside and I was taking painkillers every night and still waking up during the night with pains shooting through every inch of my leg. But I don’t like to moan to you people atall…

That doesn’t apply to Matty of course. I had a right whinge to her about it,

Oh! It’s pure agony Mum. Every bit of my leg hurts. When will it get better? Will it ever get better! Or will it be a leg to me my day?

Oh hush now. Of course it’ll get better. It’ll take you nine days to get over it. Mind you it will never be the same again. It will always be easy hurted now. How did you say it happened?

I was out walking in the fields and I tripped over a briar. I only stumbled but it might have been better if I’d fallen for I think I pulled something trying to save myself.

Out walking in the fields! Don’t you know that walking in the fields is a very dangerous thing? I mind one time I was out walking in the fields looking for a dead sheep with only a pair of oul waders on my feet. I walked every field about this place. Well it was that very next week I took the pains and if you mind right I was bad for three whole years after that! Keep you out of those fields!

That Was Me Told

Last weekend I emailed my tutor to tell her that I was giving up on my course.

She emailed me straight back and told me that I wasn't.

So this weekend I have been mostly revising for an exam.

Oh I Do Like To Be....

bonnie paddling, originally uploaded by NellyMoser.

Bonnie never dreamed that life could be this much fun when she lived with her previous owners. Those where the days when she was neglected, underfed, got no exercise and spent all her days chained in a shed. In those days she had no fur under her chin for it had all been worn away with the constant friction of the chain. She is such a lovely, gentle and affectionate dog now. And it has been such a wonderful thing to see her confidence and pleasure in life increase. I'm so glad that we kept her.

New Camera?

New job. New shoes. New haircut. New camera...

My old camera, a Canon PowerShot A40, 2.0 mega pixels, 3x zoom, weighs a bloody ton, a blow to the head with that camera could kill someone!

Anyway hast served me well but I want a new one. Any recommendations? My budget is around 150 quid. I'm a point and shoot kind of gal.

Neeson To Play Paisley?

http://news.bbc.co.uk/1/hi/northern_ireland/6472753.stm

Brilliant!

From Poznan to Rasharkin (via O'Kane's)

Bert came in last night after visiting Pearlie in hospital and said,

I feel bad.

Why?

Because I gave these two Polish guys a lift out of the town and left them off at the garage. They were walking to Rasharkin! In this weather!

Aye. Suppose you should have ran them on out to Rasharkin.

Would you have done it?

Probably.

You're far nicer than me.

To tell you the truth I wouldn't have picked them up in the first place. Two guys?

So tonight we're coming back from visiting Pearlie and we see one of the Polish guys. He's marching briskly along wearing a hi-vis vest and carrying a briefcase. Bert stops. He gets in. He's not that young - maybe fortyish.

Where's your friend tonight?

My friend he has bizzical.

Bizzical?

Yes. Bizzical. I'm sorry my English is no good.

You walk this way every night?

Yes. Is ten miles. I work O'Kin's. Twelve hour. I work Tuesday, then three days. Not Saturday.

Coming into Cully we pass his friend, also wearing a hi-vis and peddling furiously away on a bizzical. Turns out they have acquired one bicycle between them and are taking it in turns to ride it to work. I immediately feel guilty about my rarely ridden mountain bike. Of course we take our fellow all the way to Rasharkin. I never realised before how far it is. When he gets out of the car he stumbles and nearly falls. Probably because he's so bloody tired.

The Little People

Bert: Y'know the Wee Manny saw fairies once?

Jamie: Now why doesn't that surprise me?

Bert: He did indeed. Him and this other boy saw fairies down at the bottom of his mother's garden. The other boy can't verify it though for he's dead years ago.

Jamie: Were drugs involved?

Bert: No it was a car accident.

Jamie: I mean were there drugs involved the time the Wee Manny saw the fairies?

Bert: Aye. Likely. That minds me - did I ever tell ye the one about the boyo the Wee Manny knew in Amsterdam?

Jamie: No. I don't think I ever heard that one.

Bert: This boyo, oul fellow he was, lived in a houseboat in Amsterdam and he kept this German Shepherd that he'd trained to set boys if they held on to the joint too long or if they passed it the wrong way. The Wee Manny said if you took more than a couple of drags the dog was over at you looking down your throat with its teeth bared and if you took another one it started to growl.

Jamie: What happened if you passed the joint the wrong way?

Bert: It took a lump out of you.

Eamon & Emmet (scan)

Eamon & Emmet (scan), originally uploaded by NellyMoser.

Just because I like it.