Be Aware!

Despite reports that Facebook is losing ground, especially in the United States, it still seems ubiquitous here in the Old Countries. Everybody, the world, his wife and the oul' Granny is on it. The young ones are mad for it with their weird txtspk (which I despise) and, if it used to be that people were cool if they were on it, now it seems they're even cooler if they're not. So obviously I'm not cool.

Social networking can be elevating and depressing in equal measures.

I was recently most depressed to find on checking out Facebook that a young acquaintance of mine had just been punched in the face by her delightful boyfriend and there she was on the internet telling everyone about it. I suppose there was an element of name and shame going on there but if that was the case it was lost on me as I don't know the arsehole. What depressed me was that she felt she had to go on the internet to look for support. Where were her family, her real friends? I'm afraid I did not comment and I may have to defriend. I feel real sympathy for her but I don't know where she lives, I don't have her number and I'm not her friend. What's the point of me knowing?

Then there was another young friend who status-updated her happy thoughts on her impending marriage. It was, and she admitted this, rather cheesy. I felt that other, less happy people might have been upset by her smug-about-to-be-marriedness and thought two things. Quit it! Learn to spell!

To balance out this negativity and blahness I had a private message from a young woman who I'd known as a child and the sentiments she expressed gave me a glow that lasted all day.

Finally, and this is something to beware of - if you die in a tragic accident, accidentally run over your mum, get arrested for murdering patients in a hospital or piss on a war memorial it will be that wacky profile picture from some social networking site that will find it's way into the papers. Think on.

New Stuff

There are people who love getting new stuff. Sometimes I am one of them. I love new clothes, especially pants and socks and I love new pens and books and stuff for the kitchen and duvet covers and plants and other things like that.

And while I like the idea of new cameras, TVs, phones, computers and so on I am not so keen on the reality. I am the kind of person who could buy a new peripheral for my computer and leave it in its box for six weeks because the dread of setting it up and getting it to work paralyses me.

Today I got a new phone and a new TV. The new phone was because I put my old one in the sink with the dishes and attempted to wash it. I did not mean to do it but I was in a terrible tizzy because I had had a lot of company staying over for more than a week and I was in this robotic trance of must wash dishes, must wash dishes.

Anyways the phone is up and running although my contacts have disappeared. The TV is a different matter. It is unlike any I had before. It is out of its box but that is because Young Loveheart tuned it in for me and did lots of other complicated stuff involving the attic and swearing at McSquirter (Hannah will know what that means). I was even able to watch New Tricks and News at Ten but changing the channel fucked it up. It's OK because Young Loveheart is coming back tomorrow to tweak something after Bert buys some other thing from the electrical shop in Cully.

I'm very confident that the TV will be up and running by Thursday so that if one of Bert's annoying friends turns up to talk about matters horticultural, I will be able to escape upstairs and not miss The Killing.

Then later on, when he feels like it and I feel like it, Young Loveheart is going to show me how to work the electric sewing machine that has been sitting unopened in its box for three months. Then I can make a start on that patchwork quilt for Miss Martha.

In other news I have decided not to drink for a month. I'll let you know how that goes.

Ooops!

This evening, in a frenzy of dish cleaning, I picked up my mobile phone and immersed it in a sinkful of sudsy water. It was strange to see its bright little face blinking out at me through the Fairy Liquid soup - gave me such a start. So I did what any sensible person would do. Abandoned dish washing for I was obviously overdoing it. A child took my phone apart and set its component parts in a warm dry place (thanks Ben) while I cracked open a bottle of Italian red.

The phone may or may not survive. Who cares? Not me.

Biking It

Matty and I went out for a bike ride probably a quarter of a century ago. I can't recall very much about it. I only know that I was with her for that is my blue ladies racer lying in the hedge. It's not that good a photograph - I should have got all of Matty's bike in there and avoided those pylons. And yet - it is a good picture. Look at her happy, happy face.

It is one of those pictures taken in the olden days that were not considered good enough for a frame or an album, just one of those photographs thrown in a box and forgotten about. Then decades pass and everything changes and then they become precious. That bike ride I can barely remember but there she is. We must have enjoyed ourselves for just look at her happy, happy face.

The Horticulturist's Apprentice

Martha takes her duties as trainee horticulturist seriously. Here she is testing strawberries. She also tested blueberries but we don't have a photograph as we were too busy testing them ourselves.

Martha surveys the vegetable plot. She likes to confuse the senior gardeners by switching labels around. She thinks that if we can't tell a turnip from a carrot by now we should get ourselves another occupation.

She casts her eye over Bert's clematis to ensure that they are ready for selling on.

Here we find the little gardener potting on some of Great-granny's house plants. This job was seriously overdue and it took Martha's encouragement for Granny Nelly to get a wriggle on!

Keeping Busy

Bert and I had a busy, busy day yesterday. OK - Sunday is supposed to be a day of rest but we had loads to do. We worked in the garden all day long and only had two visitors - Rachael on co-op business and Young Rooney. They didn't stay long. We finished the day with a barbecue, home-grown pork from the freezer and home-grown vegetables from the garden with wine from Asda's finest range. We're not self-sufficient in wine yet but that's s an ongoing project. I have parsnips and rhubarb in the freezer and blackcurrants in the fridge. The meal was delicious but I could have done with a little bit of company.

We were busy today as well. (When did I ever get time to go out to work?) And we had lots of company. We had Rachael and Les and Dessie and Marty and Rod and Rod's mum and Tracy and Kelly and Matt and Zoe and Dave and Martha. And we managed to keep some of them for company for tonight's barbecue.

Sometimes life can be sweet.

Looking On

turkey chicks 1, originally uploaded by NellyMoser.

Lucy, Martha and Judy contemplate Christmas Dinner to come.

Strange to think that such delightful little chicks will grow into great ugly, daft, delectable, free-range and organic Christmas Dinners.

What's A Body To Do?

So here I am with this blog that I can hardly be bothered with. My life has come to a stand still and I have nothing to write about any more.

For instance, take today. I was wakened at around 5am with my chest, my throat, my sinuses and went downstairs to make a cup of tea. Returned to bed with said cup of tea, went through a mountain of tissues and fell asleep until 11 o' clock. I had noted earlier that there was no evidence of an amazing sunny day (as promised) so seemed little point in getting up.

Due to Bert also sleeping in, the pigs and hens also had a lie-in. I dragged myself out and sorted them out. They were very forgiving of our tardiness.

Today I wanted Matty. Although, prior to her diagnosis, I had often been exasperated by her obssession with her health, the good side of that was that she was most sympathetic to any ailments her children suffered from. Had she been around, and relatively well, she'd have been advising me to take it easy, get medicine, look after myself. I found myself missing that so much. So I went to visit her. even though I knew it was almost a pointless exercise because she wasn't there in the graveyard beside St Comgall's. But I brought flowers from the garden, picked the nicest roses, weeded the Herb Robert from her plot and did a bit of thinking and crying. Those flowers will probably only last a couple of days but it's the thought, isn't it?

Then I called with the young brother who has had a misfortune. His motorbike got smashed in an accident on the A26 this morning. He seems to have got away with bruising but he has a dodgy back and I'm worried about him. Matty would have been terribly worried too. That's roadworks. Two roads closed with no notice to the residents. OK - it probably was in the local rags but who reads those? Except sad sacks like me who are supposed to be seeking paid employment.

So really I should get a grip of myself. I've got a cold. Our Joe's bike is smashed, he is sad and sore. Cousin Joe has just come through brain surgery and one of the priests who officiated at Matty's funeral (also a local lad) has had a devastating stroke. So I've little to complain about. But if I could have just one kind word from Matty I'd be OK.

leap

leap, originally uploaded by NellyMoser.

See Bert on his new (to him) toy. That meadow won't know what hit it.

Judy won't need to do as much leaping through the long grass as she's been used to doing.

Bonnie? She doesn't do leaping. She just does 'ponder' and 'sedate.'

Days Like These

Hurrah for the days that aren't too depressing. Today was such a day, even though I had to 'sign on'. At least the Job Centre, or whatever you call it these days, is not as dreary as it used to be.

I had Martha today and I also had Hannah. When 'Ha!' is around Miss Martha doesn't pay me too much attention but that's all right. We also had some surprise visitors, Sylvie and Maggie, both around six or seven, and Martha was thrilled to be hanging out with the big girls. They had fun with the dogs, fun with the car, fun with the pigs, fun on the gravel pile and fun on the swing.

I did teach Martha how to blow her nose on rose petals. I'm sure she thinks now that that's the proper thing to do.

Bert had hive work to do but sensibly left it until after all the girls had gone home. Just as well as he enraged the bees again. I spotted him racing past with a cloud of the little buzzing bastards pursuing him. As usual he didn't gird his loins as well as he oughta. He wore the protective smock, veil and gloves but did not protect his nether regions. The bees flew up the legs of his jeans and he had to race to the poly tunnels and debag. He was commando as well so think of the risk he was taking and imagine, if you can bear it, the sight of Bert wearing nothing but a beekeeper's smock. Thankfully no one was around. I wish I'd been out there – with my camera. I might have had to do a bit of pixellating for decency's sake.

Why,

Says I,

Did you not tuck your trousers into your socks and wear boots?

Sure,

Says he,

I was only putting a honey super on for them.

Bert thinks that if he's just going to be working with the bees for a short time that they'll not attack him. This, despite the fact that they always, always do. At least they only stung him on his shins and calves. Six stings in all and still no honey.

I Lost My Mojo

Since Matty died I have found myself short of inspiration for this blog. Sometimes I get an idea about something I want to write about but the flow isn't there. I can't seem to write from the heart any more as there are others affected by her death just as I am.

A friend told me that after her last surviving parent, her father died, she became obsessed with thoughts of her own mortality and she found this very difficult to deal with. I remember that she was extremely concerned about her two sons, both still at school, as to how they would manage if she were to die. She said she found these feelings more manageable as time passed.

And so it goes. Now I'm obsessed with death and illness too. I should be grateful that my immediate family are all well but I find myself fearing what might happen to the people I love.

Our extended family is a large one and as I've written before we received an enormous amount of support from them when Matty was ill. This week we heard that one of our cousins has been struck by serious illness. If you believe in prayer please add to yours our dear cousin and his family.

Father's Day

my parents at home, originally uploaded by NellyMoser.

Every day was Father's Day when Daddy lived at home.

Snippy Snip Snip. Here I Come!

I've been feeling rather depressed recently - the weather, orphanhood, stuff like that. Yesterday I got called upon by two distressed people who needed my support, so I decided I was fed up of being in a funk and that I would make a big effort to crawl out of the slough of despond.

So today I gardened. I gardened for six and a half hours.

I edged.

I weeded.

I trimmed.

I divided.

I tied up.

I watered.

I fertilised.

I potted on.

I made two little planters for Matty's grave and I took lots of climbing hydrangea and vitis cuttings.

But I missed the little snips we used to have when Dee Mac was here. They were dinky little sharp things that could do delicate work when it came to taking cuttings. You could put them in your pocket and occasionally when you'd move or bend they'd stick into you. They'd give you just a little prick - no harm done.

I decided to seek them out on the internet which, incidentally, seems to be on a go-slow today. I tried Amazon. I found just what I wanted. I tried to buy them and I wasn't allowed! They are apparently too hazardous to send to Northern Ireland or the Channel Islands. I daresay I could kill someone with them but it would take ages and to tell the truth I've got much scarier sharpishness in my kitchen drawer.

So Much For Summer

I try not to complain about the weather but this is getting ridiculous. I'm thinking of unpacking the thermals. Although we did just have a recent heatwave - it was on Friday last and I spent it in a wheeled tin box travelling to Kerry.

My paeonies, foxgloves and aquilegia are all battered down with the rain, the bees are eating all the honey themselves and I still have to water the vegetables in the poly tunnel. I found a dead bird by the lane today. I think it must have drowned.

Family Stuff

On Friday I spent 8 and a half solid hours with my youngest brother and his dog. This has never happened before.

The Brother's Dog

On Saturday I found myself somewhere West of Dingle with two sisters, a brother-in-law, a niece and the afore-mentioned youngest brother. The occasion was the half-century of one of the sisters. She threw a party and invited people from six to 60. Sadly for the niece the twenty-somethings were in short supply so she went to bed earlier than the rest of us. I think I stayed up until after 5 a.m.

Somewhere West of Dingle

On Sunday I spent eight solid hours with the youngest brother and his dog. On the way down on Friday we baked and on the way home we shivered. Yet we still ate ice-cream on both of our journeys. We probably spent more time together on that trip than in our entire previous life. I think I like him. I certainly like his dog.

On Monday I spent the afternoon with Miss Martha, her parents and her dogs. She was still a little surly from her recent illness and was not as demonstrably thrilled with the dress I bought her in Dingle, as I had wished for. I'm not worried. I know she will come to love it.

Dress For A Precious Little Miss

Party People

This post contains a little quiz. What do the white arrows indicate?

Please choose from the following answers

1. Holy well. lake, water-fall, donkey

2. Spider, leprechaun, claw, Scarveen

3. Ring of Kerry, Slea Head seagull, Mount Brandon, sheep

4. Birthday Girl, Good Egg, Blonde Bombshell,

Working and Sharing

Apparently, in these times of austerity, there are folk with a bit of ground to spare who are letting out allotments to keen vegetable growers. Most people these days only have pocket handkerchief gardens. It's not like the olden days when it was assumed that folk would be raising their own carrots and cabbages in their back gardens. Nowadays the average back garden allows for a rotary clothes line and an oil tank. No room there for a veggie patch.

We are people with a bit of ground to spare but you won't catch us making money from the landless. No - we are people with a bit of ground to spare who like to share. Currently we have three households gardening at Nellybert's. One are family, two are friends. Things can be a bit haphazard at times. The Co-op should have a plan but we're winging it mostly. We hope that we'll learn lots from our errors this year and move on to bigger and better next year.

We also have an independent gardener, not part of our Co-op. He's rather close to the bees and the bees hate him. I really do hope those buzzing brutes don't drive him away.

I like having people around the place. It feels right. Next time we raise pigs there will be more folk involved and we definitely need more hens. Life is not just about money. It's also about working together and sharing.

Month's Mind

This Sunday morning Bert and I did something we've never done together before. We got up early and went to church. And on the way we picked up Hannah and Jakers and they went too.

It was Matty's Month's Mind today.

I did not cry at my father's funeral, nor did I weep at Matty's. It was far too soon, far too raw and for everyone's sake I had to hold myself together. But I did feel emotional today. Father F., who had been with her when she passed, said the Mass and we were all very glad that he did because he had been a wonderful support to Matty, and to us all, throughout the time of her illness.

Looking around that little chapel today I saw so very many friends. family and neighbours who had helped Matty and helped us all throughout her illness and before it. She was a very fortunate woman to have lived in such a caring community.

Many people have told us that we, as a family, did a fine thing keeping Mammy at home during her illness and ensuring that her quality of life was good right up until her final weeks. I do think we did a fine thing although, at times, it was very difficult. It wasn't the looking after our mother that was the hardest part, it was the fear that we would not be able to sustain it. But we did. We helped each other and we were helped in so many ways by so many different people.

That is why I felt emotional today. Today I was part of a community that I'd once belonged to, a community that my mother belonged to right up until her final moments. And also a family. A big family, an extended family, who look after each other and are there when it matters. I often told Matty how lucky she was to have so many people in her life that cared about her. Now I realise that I am lucky too.

Happy Birthday Husband!

Happy Birthday Bert. I nearly missed getting this one in. A picture from the olden days when Danny was young, slim and gorgeous. And so were you! And you still are.

The Petting Zoo

When Clint bought our previous place it was rather wild and woolly. A bit like us really. Our back lane was like a tunnel it was that overgrown, there were trees everywhere and there was a garden. Peter the Weatherman had two tunnels full of leylandii and the ones he hadn't sold were rooting into the ground. It didn't take Clint long to begin clearing up. He cleared the lane and cut the hedges. Some hedges he pulled out and he felled many trees. He rooted up all the flower beds and replaced them with geese, sheds and flattened goose-shitty grass. He knocked down stone walls and old houses and built a big agricultural shed. Well. It was his place. He could do what he liked. Except all that vegetation actually provided much-needed shelter.

As a consequence Monday's stormy weather hit him hard. Bert went down to check how his livestock were doing and came across a scene that was close to carnage. There were young trees down and two of his wooden sheds had left their moorings and had blown away. One was in 'juggins' and another had rolled and broken through a wire fence and was standing on its roof. An ornamental holly tree had broken its fall. This was the shed that held 35 baby chicks and goslings and Bert just got to them in time. He gave me a call to help him and while he sifted through six inches of litter I carried the birds away in buckets to a safer place. They were all saved and how I do not know.

Yesterday Martha and I took a dander down the road to see how the little birds were doing.

First we had a look round the place to see the smashed trees. Martha said, "Broke'"

Then we checked the baby birds. Martha liked them very much. She said, "Nice."

We'll go back to see them next week. And they will be much bigger. There is a country saying,

...growing like a gosling.

Ah well. Clint might have given our old place a serious pruning and tidying but at least he keeps a petting zoo for there are three little calves and two young goats as well on the property. He should get a donkey and some rabbits. I must mention this to him.

The End of the World As We Knew It.

It was in October last year that Nellybert went to Donegal. To say that the trip was disappointing would be no exaggeration. We decided to give it another try.

The weather was not as good as it had been on our last outing. But that was in October so, of course, you'd expect it to be glorious. You cannot look for blue skies in May and they turned out every bit as grey as you'd imagine.

We sat at Five Fingers Bay where the tide was in. I scrambled on the shingle to collect wee square pebbles to fill in the spaces in the paths where the Bann brick is crumbling away. Bert sat in the van and watched as the tide started to go out again. He said he'd never seen such a thing before for he doesn't get out much. I said if he noticed it going out really fast and far we should jump in the van and race for the hills as it would mean a tsunami was coming and we were expecting the end of the world. Strangely I wasn't that concerned. If the end of the world comes, it comes.

The gloom of the weather did not perturb us and we headed for Doagh Famine Village which turned out to be a most interesting and entertaining experience. Deserves a post of it's own really. I might call it 'Play Down The Famine' Village which was a new and very interesting view of the National Tragedy. Can't say I disapprove.

The weather did not improve and we drove to the Mamore Gap, stopping at the famous shrine where I prayed a bit and made a small offering. I thought I was praying to St Colmcille but it turned out to be Padre Pio. Apparently he comes highly recommended by those in the know. So Ganching, if something good happens to you next week - let me know and I may start my own shrine to Padre Pio on the Dreen Road beside our wee spring or Holy Well as I now call it.

She Was Clean When She Got Here

Martha always comes to me perfectly turned out but after a few hours here she's working the Infant Bag Lady look. Today we had dress-up. That frock was picked straight from the ironing basket and her hat was originally intended for Romanian orphans. The vintage jewellery is courtesy of Pearlie. Not sure how she got her dirty face but I am sure she enjoyed getting it.

She was stung today by a honey bee on her ear lobe. There were tears but not many of them.

Clearing Up

Three weeks ago since Matty died.

We tidied her grave yesterday - removed the wreathes which were beginning to fade. I saved the cards and the little card-holders. The card-holders will be useful for marking where seeds are sown in the raised beds. Matty would have approved. She loved a garden, be it of flowers or be it of vegetables.

It was one of her biggest regrets, as she grew older, that she wasn't able to keep up with her garden. Since she died I have been gardening like fury.

The Magic Word

PEAS!

...is what Miss Martha says when she wants to bend me to her will.

She is a great one for the single word commands.

OUT!

She likes to explore the outside and spends a great deal of time in the poly tunnels.

BOOK!

When Granny sits down it can only be for one reason. To read to her grand daughter.

UP!

Sometimes a cuddle is needed. But soon she'll be commanding...

DOWN!

Two Weeks

bluebells 2011, originally uploaded by NellyMoser.

Every now and then I hear something or someone tells me something and I think to myself, I could blog about that. Then I sit down to write and I cannot remember one single thing to write about.

Two weeks ago since Matty died.

I saw an awful lot of bluebells. That's something at least.

mammy and joe

mammy and joe, originally uploaded by NellyMoser.

The young bro and Matty.

the man with the lurcher

the man with the lurcher, originally uploaded by NellyMoser.

This dog is so unruly it needs two leads in case one breaks. The man on the other end of the two leads is a true dog-lover, says if that dog ran off it would never come back it's that wild. He was very sweet - loved our Judy, says she's a lurcher too.

Going Over Home

Martha Byrne

28th July 1926 - 27th April 2011

I'm just a poor wayfaring stranger
Travelling through this world of woe
There is no sickness, toil nor danger
In that bright land to which I go
I'm going there to see my Father
And all my loved ones who've gone on
I'm just going over Jordan
I'm just going over home

I know dark clouds will gather 'round me
I know my way is hard and steep
But beauteous fields arise before me
Where God's redeemed their vigils keep
I'm going there to see my mother
She said she'd meet me when I come
So I'm just going over Jordan
I'm just going over home

baby reared by wolves

baby reared by wolves, originally uploaded by NellyMoser.

Mama Wolf is so kind that she went to the Mace and bought her cub a yogurt. It made a refreshing change from morsels of raw rabbit.

Another Normal Day

I woke just before 7am and decided not to get up. Immediately I fell into dreams. I dreamed that my mother was dying and that I held her in my arms and would not let her go. We lived in a succession of damp, dilapidated and tumbledown sheds and still I would not let her go. She got frailer and smaller and eventually she was as small as a baby. She was my baby, she was also another person called Shirley and still she was my mother. She was dying and I had to get her a coffin. She was small enough to fit in an infant's casket but I knew that because she had been a woman I needed to get her a woman-sized coffin.

These are the dreams I have without opiates. God only knows what Matty dreams. She told my sister, in one of her lucid moments, that it was like 'being in two places at once.'

Today was my Miss Martha day. We went to Matty's then out for a run with Great Aunt Ganching (with whom Miss Martha has become most enamoured). Next home to see Bert, a picnic on the lawn and a very relaxing afternoon with toys and pigs and dogs.

When Martha went home I spent a while watering the vegetables (this will be my role and it is a very important one) and then gathering sticks, a proper outdoor barbecue (no charcoal) and pork chops, spinach and baked potatoes for supper.

Another normal day. Tomorrow I go shopping for funeral clothes.

Off Out

Off out to Matty's house now for another day of nothing much. There will be phone calls and visitors and little walks and lots of talks.

Matty is full of dreams and is slowly, very slowly, slipping away from us.

Happy Birthday Ha!

watching the monkeys, originally uploaded by NellyMoser.

Being Normal

We went to the zoo today, Martha and Hannah and Bert and I. And we had a most enjoyable day. Of course, like all right-thinking people, I'm in several minds about zoos - there are animals that seem to like it well enough and there are others that give me the impression that living in captivity isn't that great. The African wild dogs looked just like any depressed dog that has to live in a run. And the lowland gorillas looked as if their life was very dreary too. But Miss Martha knows nothing of these dilemmas and she mostly had a very good time. There was the problem of the hills that she kept wanting to run down and we kept not wanting her to for fear of falling over. There were still a few tumbles despite our best efforts. Sadly these occurred just around about the time we were seeing the ring-tailed lemurs which were my best thing. I loved it that they refused to be confined to their area and incorporated workmen's vans as a part of their territory. Big up to those workmen who were more than happy to share their van with their furry chums.

Part of our day out was in honour of Hannah who has a birthday tomorrow. Not a significant one as she's one year off that. But a birthday none the less. And Hannah, or Ha!, as Martha calls her, is a very good person to have around when Miss Martha is part of the company. Ha! has a certain energy and youthfulness that comes into good effect when Nellybert has a very energetic toddler to keep care of.

So. Being normal. A day at the zoo. Always in my mind when being normal is that Matty, the head of our family, our senior member is dying. And that her time on this earth is coming close, very close, to it's end. After our normal day out we called to the home place where Leitrim Sister, our Dee! is in charge and where Bert made Dee! a cup of tea and we talked with our Senior Martha and she was pleased to see us, particularly Miss Martha, and we relished it because soon, very soon she is going to be so preoccupied with her business of dying that she will not be able to welcome us like that.

But for now - being normal. It's the best we can do.

Bert and Martha at the Zoo

viewing penguins, originally uploaded by NellyMoser.

The Garden Where The Praties Grow

Job done

Today was a good day and I started preparing for it yesterday when I persuaded Bert that he and I should begin our outdoor potato drills. He had many objections.

We haven't any seed.

We'll go and see Frank at Slemish Market Garden and buy some.

It's an awful lot of work for just the two of us.

And aren't we well able for it?

There was chat about leaving it to Monday but when the weather forecast was consulted I decided that it was Sunday or never.

We went to the Slemish Market Garden and were as impressed as always. I can't wait to sneak back another day and gather up some more perennials for my decorative garden. Not today though because we were in serious vegetable mode.

I had some misgivings myself at the start. It was a lot of work. But we got into it, not minding the dogs that were hanging around relaxing while we worked like dogs. There was rotavating, and dung spreading and dropping and earthing. Rachael turned up with an hour to spare and then there was a frenzy of dung spreading and spud dropping. Rachael works at a speed no ordinary mortal can compete with. After the potatoes she sowed beans in moments and then dashed off to pick up daughter from one place and husband another place.*

I've learned a lot from that girl. She believes in working hard and fast. From her example (and FlyLady) I have discovered that most dreary household tasks actually take tiny amounts of time to complete, compared to the amounts of time a person might put in atrophying in front of a computer screen. For example I have discovered that I can mop my scullery and hall in less than three minutes. Impressive? I certainly thought so.

So after around four hours we were able to look at what we had achieved and feel rather pleased with ourselves. Those potatoes are going to taste very good. The first ones ever in my life that will be seasoned with the memory-scent of well-rotted dung and fresh sweat.

As I said, it was a good day, one I was glad of. The day before was a good enough day too. I spent a good part of it with my mother. She had a big setback this week and is not the better of it yet, although she is better than she was at the start of the week. She has been in bed continuously all of last week, too weak to get up. Her urinary functions are not going well and she has a catheter fitted. She is rather confused but still knows who everyone is and knows what is going on. I'm afraid that she will not gain back the ground she has lost. But.... she is still Matty, she still gives her family, her carers and her visitors beautiful welcoming smiles and yesterday she put a bet on the Grand National and had fish and chips for her tea.

* the pub

Turf Castles

turf castles, originally uploaded by NellyMoser.

Just a random picture from one of my favourite places on earth - the moss at Drumkeeran.

No Well

Like everyone else who can, I visit my mum on Mother's Day and yesterday was no exception. Just like always she was surrounded by cards and flowers and presents. Just like always the family living far away called to wish her happy Mother's Day. What was different yesterday was that Matty wasn't well enough to talk to her far away children nor was she able to take much interest in her cards or presents.

Matty has had a bit of a setback - another urinary tract infection and she couldn't get up today. The Doctor came, prescribed another course of antibiotics and said she should be feeling better in a few days.

Tricia and her little dog left this morning. Miss Macy was very excited to be going back to Kerry but my sister felt terrible about leaving. I watched her car until it was out of sight and I felt terribly sorry for her. All day the sight of Miss Macy's little basket has saddened me. I miss that little dog.

Usually, when I am here I feel fine. Today I feel lost and a bit scared. But maybe Doctor's right and in just a day or two Matty will be feeling much better.

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.

Bert and the Baby

Bert was extremely miffed when he heard that Miss Martha was going to the zoo.

But we were for taking her to the zoo!

And we will still be taking her.

But she'll already have seen everything. It won't be as exciting for her.

It will still be exciting for her. She's only eighteen months old. She doesn't get jaded as easily as we do.

Bert doesn't really understand babies yet. Take the other day.

We were all sitting in a row eating bowls of yummy porridge. Well. Bert and I were. Martha was just looking at hers. I wasn't too worried as she'd already had her breakfast. When Bert had his all scoffed he said,

Martha's not going to eat that. I may as well have it.

So he removed her bowl from her and started to eat it. She stared at him. She was astonished. Her expression seemed to say - I cannot believe you just did that. She turned to me and the expression on her face said - Can you believe he just did that? Then she turned to look at the empty place where her little bowl had been and she gave a long, sad sigh. Bert was mortified. He gave the child her porridge back. She picked up her little pink spoon and she slowly, methodically worked her way through it. When she was almost done she picked up the bowl and drank it's contents until the bowl shone as if it had been licked by a diligent dog. Bert's new name? Goldilocks. I think he'll be leaving the Baby Bear's porridge alone from now on.

When I'm 64

That is the age at which I will now receive a state pension.

Oh well. I think I shall have to become a bank robber.

Don't tell anyone I said that.

Joking aside - it was terribly unjust that women were entitled to a pension five years before men. What was that all about? And it's not as if 60 is even old these days. Or so I like to kid myself.

It's the kids I feel sorry for. There they'll be trying to get a foot on the career ladder starting with something humble and character-forming like working the aisles in B&Q or Tescos and there will be all the old codgers like me taking their jobs. And I will too - if the bank robbing thing doesn't work out.

Boiler Suit Days

Martha models her new boiler suit (Blue Castle same as Bert wears) while Rusty and Lily look on. Rusty is the sneering pig in the middle of the picture. He looks like he might be saying something hateful. Look at his twisted mouth. And Lily looks as if she's hearing some nasty comment. What do you think he might be saying?

Clearing My Head

The right side of the attic

I'm not very 'feng shui' in the attic department. Apparently it's supposed to be hard to look forward to the future when there's so much clutter "hanging over your head." I don't want my children to have to go up there and deal with all that shite when I'm not able to. My father had the right idea. He did not allow anything to be stored in the roof space. But then he did have lots of big sheds. We have sheds too but they are Bert's and they aren't as dry as Daddy's were.

I always wanted an attic and was determined we'd have an accessible one when this house was being renovated. In the story books I read as a child they were always exciting places full of treasure. You'd open a trunk and it would be full of the most wonderful things from the olden days. There would be ivory fans, embroidered shawls and silken dresses your Granny used to wear. There would be hand written journals and carvings and mysterious old photographs. There would be beads and toys and ancient maps.

Not so in my childhood home. Granny's old dresses ended up as cleaning rags and the only thing in our attic was spiders and flittery things like bats and trapped birds.

The left side of the attic

There is no Victorian or Edwardian treasure in my attic. For sure there are old things up there - the detritus of generations. Bert's old pram is there. Pearlie's amazing collection of unused souvenir tea towels is there. And all those ornamental cats from when I had a cat collection. The attic is also full of rucksacks. Whoever uses rucksacks now?

The Protestant side of the attic

The really old stuff comes from Bert's side of the family. There are bits and pieces of Orange and Black regalia from when his father and uncles were in those orders. I really don't know what to do with those.

The Catholic side of the attic

And then there is this Sacred Heart picture that Matty gave me when I first got my own house. I haven't had it on the wall for decades but I still don't want to throw it out. A lot of ancestor issues there. So - if anyone wants me I'll be in the attic going through all the Christmas cards Bert ever received from 1959 to 1972. Or I might be perusing Pearlie's school books from the 1930s.

Catching Up

Thursday was a busy, busy day getting everything at Matty's 'redd up' for Kerry Sister coming. And looking after Miss Martha with Hannah's help. I made a lot of soup and went to Randalstown Play Park which is one of Martha's favourite places. While we were there she mastered the low, low swing.

Swing low sweet Miss Martha

On Friday we went out for dinner at a friend's house. Happy days for us that Wee Les and his lady are foodies. Please forgive Nellybert anyone else who has ever cooked for us, but that was the most delicious meal that anyone has ever given us. And there were four desserts!

Earlier on Saturday we got new baby calves. They will be called Poppy and Zillah. They're awfully small and keep stepping delicately out between the bars of the stall.

Poppy makes a break for freedom

Saturday was spent decluttering, tackling hotspots, swishing & swiping and shining my sink. Guess who's been on the FlyLady site? After all that I got good and drunk.

Today more swishing and swiping and a big huff at Bert for not bringing down his dirty laundry the second I asked him. I really must get a life. And I must stop eating so many desserts so that I won't have any more distressing conversations with the Honest Man from Portglenone. But that's another blog post for another day.

Down On One Knee. Not!

According to the Daily Mail, one in four brides are not happy with the way their partners proposed. Humph! Silly tarts methinks. Shouldn't they just be glad that they got proposed to at all?

Anyways this young friend of mine got proposed to in Paris. Which is pretty romantic by most people's standards. It was a surprise (she says and I believe her) but this is what happened. She and her beloved landed at their hotel and he suggested a walk. Little did she know he was looking for a properly romantic place to drop to one knee. They walked and they walked. Her feet were killing her. She has a propensity for sexy footwear. Nelly would have been wearing hiking boots. Eventually her beau found a place that he deemed suitable for the occasion. They sat down (she very gratefully) on a bench. He popped the question, there was a rat looking at them (she said yes) it was dirty ol' Paris after all. These two are going to be very happy - I feel that in my water.

The Nellybert proposal? It was the 29th February 2008. Drink had been taken. The time was probably around a quarter to twelve. I looked into his eyes, and said, "Will you marry me?" He gazed at me all google-eyed said, "Yes." Next day I told everyone we were engaged. Think it was the following August we got married. That's what I call timing. We didn't bother with an engagement ring. Or a rat.

Tomorrow

Tomorrow is the last day of my current stint in the Matty House. It's been the best part of three weeks with a couple of very short breaks home. And tomorrow will be a good day. I will have the company of Miss Martha from 9am and Miss Hannah is coming at midday to help me out as she has done for three Thursdays in a row. All being well we are going to Randalstown play park when J. from Marie Curie comes to sit with Matty for a while.

The amazing Matty keeps in good spirits although she does seem to get more tired and weary with every passing day. We've been up and down more often than her ripple bed. With hindsight this has been a good time even though I'm exhausted too. I still believe it was worth leaving work for.

Not to say that there haven't been downsides. I just don't want to think about them right now for tomorrow night I'm going home to Bert, the dogs, the pigs and the cats in exactly that order.

Mum's Field.

Mum's Field., originally uploaded by triciamorimori.

This is something like the view I would have from the kitchen window, where I currently sit, if that window wasn't all steamed up from the vegetable broth I have on the hob. The extractor fan is far too noisy and would disturb my present tranquillity. Matty is napping and the only sounds I can hear are the pipple of the broth, the churn of the washing machine and a constant hum of traffic from the Lisnevenagh Road.

The light in Tricia's photograph is so beautiful and begs to be shared.

Cheeky Bitch

Old girls and their matching trews

Matty was poorly yesterday with lots of cramping in her stomach. We brought out the heavy duty painkillers which made her quite woozy. Last night, after I'd gone to bed, she was really sick. I heard the noises and thought at first that it was burglars. Hell no! Nothing as uncomplicated as that - just Matty throwing up. I got it sorted. This morning she was a bit confused, thought it was seven in the evening instead of the morning.

The doctor called and told us that it might just have been a stomach bug. She's not in bad form at all. She lay and dozed all through 'Coronation Street' and had to be woken up to go to bed. I teased her about how she instructed the carer and myself as to how she'd get to her feet from a lying position. I said,

You're good at this. You must have been listening to the physio. You could train physios yourself.

She liked this.

The carer told me later that Matty said I was a 'cheeky bitch' and went off to her bed laughing about training physios. That's my Matty. Still got the spirit.

Bachelor Boy

I had a brief visit home last night and part of today. Bert had not used the washing machine even though I had left him detailed instructions. My home is reverting to the look and feel of a bachelor pad. There were dirty dishes in the sink, a slight smell of socks and shop-bought meat pies in the fridge. The vegetables were mouldering uneaten and we were perilously low on toilet paper. There was no milk.

I said to him,

Do you miss my cooking?

He said,

Sure you haven't cooked anything for ages.

Duh! In the past three weeks I've spent sixteen days at Matty's. When I do get home I'm not going to start cooking for him after all the invalid meals I'm preparing at the Ponderosa. I had a major huff.

How soon he forgets. Mind you, I had forgotten the delicious pea and ham soup he had made when I'd got away for an hour on Wednesday not to mention the raspberry muffins for afters. I was still huffing when Mr & Mrs Wee Les came in. It was a relief to have an excuse to stop.

Afterwards we watched ancient footage of The Blues both the authentic and the somewhat less so. It was wonderful going to bed knowing that I would not have to bounce out of it at 7:15 sharp. All I did this morning was read an Anita Shreve, take a long, deep bath and go for a walk in the fields. It was noisy out there with the rat-a-tat-tat coming from the shooting range at the Loan Hill and the sound of the hunting horn and the hounds on the Granagh Road. But it was far, far better than the ceaseless drone of traffic on the Lisnevenagh Road and waiting for the wee voice that goes, “Meer-eeee.”

Fair Exchange Is No Robbery

Miss Martha has inherited the family gene for taking great pleasure in hoking about thrift and charity shops. Today we checked out the charity shop at Junction One which is particularly good for toys and children's books. However Martha was not that interested in toys or books. Instead she made a beeline for a box of knitted hats. She was keen on the lemon one and wanted Granny to have the baby pink one. Her own pixie, skilfully knitted by Zoe, was tossed among the other hats. We managed to dissuade her from the lemon and baby pink and got her back in her stripey bonnet. I don't think Mama would have pleased with the lemon number. It wasn't really Martha's colour.

Over The Moon

Please God don't ever let me say this. Don't ever let me say, if I'm pleased about something, no matter how pleased I am, don't ever let me say that I'm 'over the moon'. Just kill me if I ever say that.

It's not that I dislike all cliches. I'm partial to 'Mmmm doughnuts,' and 'Sweet' a la Simpson and Griffin and I quite like 'Way!' as a shorthand for 'Way to go.' A North American friend once told me that's what all the American wallies say to one of their number if he does something they approve of.

And how I hate the expression 'killer' when it is used to describe heels or curves. So Rihanna's got killer curves. No she hasn't. She's got an attractive, shapely figure. Who's she going to kill with it? Then killer heels. Spare me. Obviously heels could, at a pinch, be used to kill someone but I'm not really seeing it. And 'working it' is another over used phrase from the cheap fashion pages that I loathe.

Then 'journey'. So you're a 'celebrity' on a reality show. Maybe it's 'Dancing on Ice' and you've just been told to go home and you'll be gasping out about what an incredible 'journey' you've been on. Very good. You learned a new skill. You skated your heart out. You're going home. That wasn't a journey. It was just another job.

I've saved my most hated expression to last. Can you guess what it is? I have a grand daughter. She is amazing. I love her. She is gorgeous and probably the most intelligent person born in 2009. But if I ever hear anyone calling her a 'Princess' I will kill them (with my killer curves). Some little girls might want to buy into that princess shit but my Miss Martha is better than that. Princess my arse! And if you are one of those parents or grandparents who refer to your female child as a 'princess' you are a wee bit sick. Who the fuck would want to be a princess? Kate - it's not too late. I know the tea towels have been printed but you can still get out.

Shrove Tuesday

Matty and I had a good day yesterday. She was in good form, we took a drive out and she had a wee walk around the garden.

Today wasn't as good. I woke up feeling that, at sometime during the night, someone had trailed me out of bed and given me a sound kicking. No doubt the result of my tumble in the birch wood yesterday.

After breakfast I had a little chat with Matty about my hopes for getting a bit of home leave this weekend. She took a sour view of it. And got in a bit of a mood. When a body is spending the best part of fourteen hours a day with another body things can get intense. I kept my head but it made me feel down.

At least we had Zoe and Miss Martha for a couple of hours and we had pancakes. And I got a whole twenty minutes walk over to the Pipe Road. I made Matty promise she wouldn't move an inch from her chair. Despite this precaution I spent the entire twenty minutes fretting that I'd find her in a heap when I returned. It certainly added an inch to my step! She was good, never budged at all.

Tomorrow I expect to have lots of respite and I'm looking forward to it.

The Loan Hill

Loan Hill from the Killyless Road

I thought I spotted the Loan Hill from Drumkeeran the other day so I borrowed Matty's birdwatching binoculars to see if I could get a better view. It's only a mere ten miles away with no high ground between.

Loan Hill from the Ballyconnelly Road

We used to enjoy walking up there to admire the view but now there is a firing range beside it and, to tell the truth, I'm heart scared of getting shot. Those dirty devil scunging dogs would often be around it in their dirty devil scunging days but now Rosie, poor thing, is long gone and, these days, Paddy is far too old and lazy to get off the sofa.

Uncle John came from 'Hunshin and he said their dogs often escaped the leash and headed for the Loan Hill for which they had a fondness. It is a very rabbitty place.

One of the views from the Loan Hill

I had no luck with the binoculars today as it was far too hazy. They were heavy old things and I was going a bit further so I stashed them in the hedge for collection on the way back.

I only had thirty minutes as Cousin Pauline was sitting with Matty. I found a bit of the moss I'd never been in before. It was actually a wild birch wood growing on the edge of the moss. I raced about it for a while, managed to trip on a bramble and fall flat on my face. Thankfully peat makes a soft landing so no harm done.

On the way back I walked right past the spyglasses for I was deep in memories from long, long ago. I had to return but damned could I find them. I'd left them behind a mossy stump near some holly and the whole bloody hedge was mossy stumps near some holly for about forty feet. I persevered and found them. I was at least ten minutes late for Pauline although she didn't seem to mind. She's a good girl. There'll be another day to search for a sight of the Loan Hill from Drumkeeran.

The Springhill Project

Bert says,

Clint's changed his mind about putting the meadow in potatoes this year. Says he has no time and anyway, what's he going to do with 9 tons of spuds.

Oh. Well we'll just have to plant a garden of potatoes somewhere.

There's nowhere for them.

What do you mean?

I don't know where we'd put them.

Balls! You mean out of fifty acres we can't find some wee place to grow a few drills of potatoes?

Well what do you suggest then?

There's no point in me suggesting anything for as soon as I say what about there, or maybe there, you'll have about a million reasons why we can't because that's what you love. Being negative.

And so we bickered on until Zoe and Martha appeared at the door all wellied up and ready for a day's gardening. I was just a bit mortified. Caught arguing like a pair of weans yet again! Even though we quit it the second she appeared she'd know. So I said,

Great timing Zoe. We were just discussing where we'd plant our spuds in light of Clint reneging on the meadow.

Within thirty minutes we'd all viewed up a couple of places and made our decision. Well Zoe made it. It's such a relief when a responsible adult turns up and puts the sillies on the right track even if she is their daughter.

We ended up having a most productive day. Rachael turned up after lunch and we sowed, and dug and pruned and planned. My primary task was entertaining Miss Martha. I had no complaint about that. And that's why I've had no time to blog this weekend. Taking gardening leave.

Young Dog, Old Dog

wait for me!, originally uploaded by NellyMoser.

I actually don't know how old Bonnie is. She did come to us as a stray. But I'd say she's getting on. She is not as able as she was a few years ago and like many GSDs she seems to have hip problems.

The hip issues won't have been helped by her start in life. God only knows how long she spent tied in that shed with no exercise and inadequate food.

Still - she's happy now even if only a few hours on the beach chasing after that pup leaves her completely tired out the next day.

Judy To The Rescue

And Bert.

I just keep getting the bloody cold. For a couple of years, before Matty got ill, I had neither cough nor sneeze but these past few months I never seem to be without the cold for more than a couple of weeks.

The one I've got now started with a headache. On day two my eyes itched. Day three brought the nose thing, lots of sinus and snotter. Day four was the throat and day five as well. Day six dem thing has settled on my chest. I caved in and phoned the doc for antibiotics. The chest hurts and I get out of puff if I exert myself etc. etc.

Of course tomorrow it might have moved to my diapraghm, day eight my belly, day nine my toot, day ten my knee and day eleven my big toe and then the whole thing would be gone. But I can't risk it!

Many, many thanks to Bert and the Judester who brought the drugs all the way from Cully. Here's hoping they work. Matty thought the Judester was lovely. Bert comments,

See her paws all covered in dried cow dung.

I hiss,

Shut up!

Thankfully Matty didn't see or hear.

I discovered today that I can see the Loan Hill from the Drumkeeran Road. When it all gets too much here I shall walk down the road and look over and cry.