December Daily Post, No 10

This will be a short post as my vision is still very blurry. I'm glad I can make it because this morning it would not have been possible. Yesterday Bert and I had a long, long day in the Royal Victoria Hospital.* Thanks to everyone who commented to wish me well and thanks too to my family who have been very supportive.

Preparations for Christmas? What do you think? Not a lot.

*Where there were a great number of people far worse off than me.

Back when I took them for granted

December Daily Post, No. 9

I am writing this with great difficulty. My sight has worsened. I have just got back from the doctor and I am to see an eye specialist this afternoon. I am very frightened even though my GP says she sends at least two patients a month to this emergency clinic.

Preparations for Christmas? None. I'm even wondering if there will be a Christmas.

December Daily Post, No. 8

I am getting really fed up with this eye thing. The worst eye is, natch, sod's law etc., the one unaffected by cataract and I am actually visibly impaired in both eyes. I've been taking my sight for granted for years now, just thought all I had to do was pop on a pair of spectacles and I could see for miles.

I've just watched an episode of Homeland where I wasn't able to read any of Carrie's anguished expressions. Indeed, if it hadn't been for her shiny yellow hair I wouldn't even have known which one was Carrie. And I'd no idea who was being shot dead at any point. Bert was nearly as bad but at least he has one good eye to focus with.

This had better be improved tomorrow or I'm off to bother the doctor.

Walked for 40 minutes in icy rain. I wore waterproof trousers,wellies and a very silly hat. Was the warmest, dryest person out there.

Preparations for Christmas? Had a trial run of the steamed chocolate pudding. Very nice but would benefit from a bit of rum in the chocolate sauce. Martha enjoyed it. She had two portions.

I rarely write about serious stuff but I'm often reading it. I've just read this by Yvonne Watterson on racism. As always, with Yvonne, it's from the heart and so well worth reading.

December Daily Post, No. 7

It's not that I'm not interested in fashion. I am. Very interested but only in an academic sense. I recognise many designers' work and I try to keep up with the big fashion shows. I usually have a rough idea of what's current and what's not.

So you've got that, Reader Mine? I am interested in fashion just not interested in wearing it. I was always A Vintage Queen anyway for that  was all I could afford. Now all I wear are warm clothes, comfortable clothes, what my eldest daughter refers to as farmer clothes.

So, credentials established, allow me to introduce the latest addition to my blog roll, Miss Naoise. She runs a fashion blog. It pleases me.

Today I went for a 40 minute walk and worked for an hour in the poly tunnel. I also made a very delicious supper of lasagne and a salad that consisted of,

A grated carrot from Lidls
A grated apple from Les
Half a grated clove of garlic, also from Les
A dressing made from olive oil and balsamic vinegar, both from Lidls...
And half a teaspoon of honey from Bert's Cross Bees

Preparations for Christmas? Good and bad news. The good news is That Bert, Hannah and I have decided on our Christmas Day dinner. The bad news is that I opened the Amazon parcel containing Martha's present (a book) and discovered that it is in French! Martha doesn't speak French and neither do I.  We'll have to learn.

December Daily Post, No. 6

Today I -

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

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

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

Howard can stay still. Sprollies not so much.

December Daily Post, No. 5

Almost better. Eyes still sticky but no pain and, best of all, my energy has returned. The van was in for repairs this afternoon so I walked to the village. It took me 26 minutes down the hill and 24 on the way back. I was ever so pleased with myself.

Preparations for Christmas? I went to Martha's Nativity Play and enjoyed it very much. I drove Martha's mum and little sister and got to sit beside the co-grandparents. Martha was a singing angel and played her part well. She looked divine in every sense of the word. I also managed to get Katkin's birthday card and present into the post. That's what the walk was about. A December birthday is part of Christmas too.

December Daily Post, No. 4

I meet the eldest granddaughter from the school bus.

Guess what I did today in front of Daddy? 

Your Nativity Play? 

Yes!! 

Was it good? 

Yes. 

That's brilliant. Mummy and Evie and me will be seeing it tomorrow.

(Daddy had to go a day early as he is being a Wildling tomorrow.)

Bert is looking after Evie and you and I are going shopping. 

Oh good. Can we go to Sainsburys? 

No. We're going to the Spar like we did last week. 

But Sainsburys is much better than the Spar! There are far more things to buy and it's much bigger! 

That's why I want to go to the Spar. I don't have a lot of money today and if I go to Sainsburys I'll see lots of things I'd like and I won't be able to buy them. The Spar is a bit boring but it has all the things I need...

Lip trembles.

Oh Martha! You have to let Granny decide where she wants to shop. Here, if you stop crying and be a sensible girl I'll let you phone Hannah to let her know we're ready to pick up Ziggy.

(Occasionally I look after granddoggies as well as granddaughters)

I quickly dial the number and give her the phone. Then I swap a three year old car seat for a big girl's car seat. By the time I'm finished she is at Hannah's door taking charge of Ziggy. Her mood is well improved.

As we drive off I explain to her how I make decisions about where I'm going to shop. I mention Lidls.

Oh Granny, we could go to Lidls. It's not too far out of our way and...

Then I think. Lidls doesn't bombard me with choices. It has everything I need and it has wine. The Spar does not have wine.

OK. Let's go to Lidls.

She's delighted. She must really hate Cullybackey Spar.

We go round. First thing she gets me to buy is panini. I'm pleased that she ignores biscuits and confectionary. Then I'm strongarmed into buying two scoops of shelled almonds. At least they are healthy. I pick up my fruit and veg, my butter, my Earl Grey tea. There are toys. I leave her looking at them while I look for ginger. I return moments later and she has laid some packets on the floor and is gazing upon them intently. The packets come from a stand advertised as 'Princess Accessories' and they are,

1. Plastic beads and bracelets
2. Plastic tiaras
3. Plastic high heeled shoes with ribbons

I ask her to return them to the stand in case someone steps on them. She complies like a good girl. Then she gazes into my face, Her eyes are beautiful, big and blue.

I really like the shoes Granny.

But Martha, I've already bought your Christmas present.

It doesn't have to be for Christmas Granny. It can be a replacement for the ones that Jess chewed. 

Martha. When I'm really old will you do my shopping for me?

Yes.

Will you take me everywhere I need to go?

Yes.

Her face is shining with delight and happiness. And it is not because she is looking forward to looking after me in my extreme old age, it is because she knows she is 'getting the shoes'. Then she chose the yellow ones and the pink ones for her sister.

I so adore being a Granny.

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Eye infection update? Getting better every day.

Preparations for Christmas? Looking forward to the Nativity Play tomorrow. Especially as I can now see.

December Daily Post, No. 3

Today has not been a particularly good day even though my eyes appear to be making some improvement. I cried a lot and I'm sure the floods of salty tears did me an awful lot of good. And why the tears? Well. The viral infection is making me feel very emotional and I read Michael Morpurgo's War Horse. I howled.

My friend came round today with half a set of twins and I lent her A Christmas Carol. She wants to read it to all her twins and her big girl. I also gave her a spare copy of Girl of the Limberlost. That made me happy.

Bert is very grumpy which is normal for him when I'm feeling below par. Not helpful.

Preparations for Christmas? I lent my friend A Christmas Carol. That's it.

December Daily Post, No. 2

I have been applying the antibiotic eye drops for 24 hours now and my eyes are still sore, red and gungey. I read on Mumsnet (it came up in a Google search) that the drops only shorten the duration of the condition by one day. And - the Wee Manny was here today and he said he'd had it for two weeks! But he smokes so that cannot help. Mind you I'm sitting in a room with an open fire and burning turf and bits of tree bark so I might as well be smoking. Did I mention that I can't see so if there are typos in this post forgive me.

Preparations for Christmas? I bought a present (online) for Miss Martha. It's a start.

December Daily Post, No. 1

Things are not good at Nellybert's. I have a viral infection, achey bones, sneezy and the worst eye infection I have ever experienced.

I've achieved nothing today apart from watching The Cider House Rules and the latest episode of The Fall.

Preparations for Christmas? Absolutely nothing.

Hoping to be feeling more energetic (and entertaining) tomorrow.

Saturday Woes

I notice that Ganching regularly posts on daily pluses and minuses so, as I have had a couple of days of minuses, I intend to borrow her idea at least once.

Minuses

Bert broke my whizz mop. For those that do not know a whizz mop is the best way ever of mopping floors. Unfortunately, to allow them to be sold for an affordable sum, they are not as robust as they might be, I had an amazingly robust mop and bucket once. The only way it could be broken would be for a truck to run over it, or to be stamped upon by an elephant. The downside was you'd need muscles like Popeye to operate it and it slopped water all over the place.

I was eating a nice bit of crusty toast and raspberry jam and my dental plate broke. I got a temporary repair made but I'll need a new one. The new one will cost me the price of 14 whizz mops.




I put my Omron GoSmart pedometer in the washing machine. Fortunately it was a quick 30°C setting. I'm attempting to dry it out but if it doesn't work and I need a replacement and I don't win one on eBay that's near enough the price of one whizz mop.

And I have an eye infection. 

Pluses

I also have gin!

The Stable

Today I asked Bert where he had deposited the cardboard (for lasagne gardening) that was kindly donated by Ronnie Pet Shop Boy and he informed me it was in The Stable.

The Stable?

We have six sheds and at the last count fifteen names for them. The sheds are referred to something like this, 

• The Woodshed
• The Milk House
• The Byre
• The Cattle Shed
• The Workshop
• The Hen House
• The Pig House
• The Calf Shed
• The Back Shed
• The Potato Shed
• The Turf Shed
• The Silo
• The Tractor Shed
• The Tool Shed
• Ian’s Shed

But The Stable? There hasn't been a horse about this place in more than sixty years. There might have been stables back in Master Kernohan's day but that was a long time ago. The place that Bert refers to as The Stable currently contains,

An ancient stack of turf, almost inaccessible as it has flung upon it a great amount of yellow drainage piping and...

• An amount of railway sleepers.
• Some coal, supplied by Frank McCooke.
• A bit of a quad bike.
• Some other bikes.
• A few collapsed swallow's nests.
• A great quantity of adult diapers.
• A stove.
• A quantity of Bann bricks.
• Cardboard.
• Various other treasure.
• No horses.

In Which The Piano Is Rolled To The Shed

We never did get that piano tuned. There was no point anyway for I had nowhere to put it but the sun room and it was plonked far too close to the wood burning stove. Today Young Loveheart, Rod and Bert rolled it to the shed, the one I call a workshop and Bert calls the Pruta Shed even though the amount of pruta (potatoes) currently stored there only amounts to three baskets of Sarpo Mira. Miss Martha will not be pleased about the removal of the piano although she will still be able to bash away at it in the Pruta Shed.

I see from my previous blog entries that we've had the piano for three years. It was first mentioned in the following entry when I was enjoying a rare opportunity to have the house all to myself. It seems too that Bert still has the outstanding matter of that unfinished ranch fencing to consider. I'll mention it to him tomorrow.

Tuesday, November 29, 2011

Home Alone

I'm home alone. Pearlie has gone to one of her regular respite placements so that means two whole weeks without a batallion of carers tramping in and out. And it is also two weeks without her constant griping and complaining. It is a chance for Bert and I to have a taste of what it must be like to live as a couple in privacy and peace. Eight whole weeks a year we get of this and I know that makes us very fortunate people.

As I said I'm home alone. Bert has gone off to Malin Head with a couple of friends. I hope they get reasonable weather and aren't blown off the Head. I've been left with the chickens, the dogs, the pigs and the cats - not too burdensome. Clint has been left with the cattle. I'm supposed to be watching and listening for one of the heifers 'looking away' but we're not holding out much hope. The beast has had numerous goes with A.I. and a good run with the bull and she just can't catch. Clint came in to talk about it. He knows Pearlie isn't here so I've got nobody to moan at me.

Huh! The only place that one will be looking away at is the abattoir. She's far too big a baste to be keeping as a pet.

I interpret this as a dig at the kune kunes but I do not react. He goes on.

Aye! It's the freezer for her, no question about it.

I'm sure he'd like me to get sentimental about her so he can come over all manly and practical and farmerish but I do not give him a chance. He goes on,

Did Bert ever get the bags sorted out for the butcher?

I concur that if he did, I have not been informed of it.

Huh! He's an easy-going boy waltzing off to Donegal in this weather and no worries about the butcher! And in November! Sure it's wild up there! He has little or no sense. I don't know what would take him up to Malin Head at this time of the year!

I remark that I thought the break would do him good and mention that we've got a piano.

Aye! I saw that. I don't know what you thought you needed that for. Huh! What with that oul squeaky clarinet and dinnilin' away on an oul out of tune piano that'll hardly do him much good. It would answer him a lot better to finish that ranch fencing he started.

I have to agree that Bert has a rather dilatory attitude to general chores.

Well! I'm away down to get my own livestock foddered and in before it's too dark to see.

I bid him goodnight.

When he is gone I say to the dogs for there is no one else to say it to,

Y'know – there are a lot of things that Bert is good at, that Clint is not.

And I smile a little smile to myself.

On Sisters

It is with a heavy heart that I pack my little case and head for County Leitrim to visit one of my multi-talented sisters. The reason? I've just read this. And there was no mention of me.

Sibling rivalry... it never dies.

I'm sure if she had racked her brains she'd have thought of something!

Most home-made wine in Cullybackey?
Best granny in the world?
Gets up 5 minutes earlier every day?
Awesome pastry?
GSOH?

Seriously though, I'm proud of them too.

Weekend Plans

Today I planted tulip bulbs. My sister said, is it not too late, will they grow? And I replied, they will have a better chance in the garden than in my kitchen drawer.

I'm in a reflective mood and am trying to get my life back on track, starting with getting up times. Since Pearlie died I had drifted into being a slug-a-bed and, at this time of the year when daylight hours are short, it makes sense to get up before nine. I do what I always do, set my alarm 5 minutes earlier every day. The hens are pleased.

I have also decided to eat less biscuits and take a daily walk.

In December I plan to blog every day so that my loyal readers can share in my Christmas planning. Prepare to be very impressed.*

This weekend I will be getting on a bus and travelling to Enniskillen and will be accompanied by two young girls aged 3 and 5. At Enniskillen we will be met by Leitrim Sister who will take us to her lovely home among the rushes. The older of the two girls wasn't going to go as she informed her mother that,

Teacher doesn't allow us to take holidays in term-time.

We explained that weekends don't count. Bert is not too heart-broken to be left by himself for two whole days.






*Impressed at my lackadaisical attitude.

Pottery, Porcelain & Glass

Bert has been forbidden to put anything in the attic.

If you want something taken up there, leave it by the stairs and I'll take it up.

Why? Because he just dumps things there willy-nilly on top of all the other stuff and I have to move it to get to the stuff I want. He's been storing outgrown children equipment such as buggies, stair gates and so on for we're hoping for more grandchildren some day. I've been digging out china, and pretty cushions and knick knacks that have been up there since Pearlie moved in with us. For my new room you see. The new room that I keep going on about.

You can be certain sure that Bert will not pay a blind bit of notice to my instructions that he keep out of the attic. He agrees with me, then does exactly as he pleases and I have to admit I do admire him for it.

Bringing out the china has awakened my interest in it and I found myself drawn to a vintage coffee set in a Ballymena charity shop. It looked in very good condition considering it must be close to a century old.

Royal Doulton Duveen 'Syren'

Sadly I could not afford it as it was priced at £395! There aren't as many bargains to be found in charity shops these days, not since the people who work there discovered eBay and the prices that some collectors are prepared to pay.

But I did have a happy find in Portglenone a few days later. I have a few bits and pieces of Poole Pottery Dorset Fruits. It's modern but I like it. I'd been poking about and was about to leave empty handed when the nice lady said,

Do you like these plates?

Four Poole Pottery, Dorset Fruits dinner plates, the apple pattern. How much did she want for them? Fifty pence each.

Now if I only have six adults and two children for Christmas there will be plates enough. Six apples, a pear and a bunch of grapes.

Starved

I was brought up in a family where breast feeding was the norm. I had been breast fed myself, I'd seen all my six brothers and sisters breast fed and it never occurred to me to do anything else.

Back when I had my children feeding one's child oneself was not the norm and midwives did not seem to encourage it. Nevertheless I persevered and it all went well for me. There were no problems, my little ones thrived and that thing called 'baby weight' melted away in no time.

As time passed I found out more about my own and Matty's early experiences. My mother let the odd thing drop and eventually it all became clear. She had a difficult breech birth with me and did not recover well. She felt isolated and unsure of how to deal with her first child. I was very underweight and she struggled with nursing. As her anxiety increased, she neglected to nourish herself and consequently I was starving at the breast. She told me that there were fierce District Nurses who called very often such was their concern for this baby that failed to thrive.

Then my Aunt Sarah visited. She had a son six months older than me. He was a giant baby, dark curls, the fattest chubby cheeks, a great lump of a well-fed infant. Aunt Sarah was horrified to see the scrawny thing that Matty had produced.

Give that child a bottle! Thicken it with Farex. Put sugar in it.

Matty did as her sister said and I started to thrive. Got chubby. But I never, ever forgot that early starving. All my life I have wanted more food. At times of anxiety I just want to eat and I especially want to eat starchy, sugary things. I must have adored those thickened, sweetened bottles of milk.

I've been thinking about this recently for I've gained weight. Again. I can't stop eating. And that cousin? The one who never knew hunger in his entire life? You should see him now. He's as lean as a whippet and a right handsome devil.

All Dogs Welcome

Nellybert likes to give a warm welcome to dogs and their owners, even when the number of four-legged visitors may seem excessive. Today we had just the five canine callers.

photo by Zoe Bowyer

Gracie and Maya brought their entire family with them. And stayed for dinner. Gracie likes to assist me in the kitchen when I'm cooking. Her job is to deal with spills. I am a careless cook and often drop morsels  and crumbs on the floor as I go.

As well as their family, they also brought....

photo by Hannah Bowyer

Ziggy! Today is Hannah's college day so Ziggy is sleeping over. He looks rather splendid in that picture does he not?

Sadly Ziggy missed Fly's visit. He and his master had called earlier in the day.

From this picture, taken by Miss Hannah a few weeks ago, you can tell how much Ziggy looks up to his good friend Fly.

And then there was Poppy. Eight weeks old and visiting Nellybert for the very first time.

A little Jack Russell terrier who wouldn't stay still for a second. She got on well with everyone, even the cats and she peed on the spare bed, my fault for putting her on it. I do hope we will be seeing lots more of her.

Two seconds after this snap there was puppy pee on the Ikea bedspread. Who cares!

The Stack Garden

Bert generally does not tell me things. So I wasn't a bit surprised yesterday when a large truck containing stones arrived on the yard. As Bert thinks receiving a load of stones an important task accomplished it would therefore be deserving of a cup of tea. When he came into the kitchen I attempted to engage him in conversation.

What are the stones for?
Och!
No. Tell me what they're for.
Tssk!
Just tell me. Other husbands tell their wives things.
The back garden!

And off he stomped clutching his cup of tea in hand.

Did I ever mention that he's not really a morning person?

I pondered this information. The back garden? We have various areas around the house that could be described as garden but I wasn't sure which he meant. And why would he be needing stones for it? Gardens are my department too. I deserve to be consulted.

I broached the subject again the next time he came in for refreshments (thirty minutes later).

So, exactly where is this back garden you speak of? Back of where?
I didn't say back garden. I said stack garden.
Stack garden?
Yes. Every farm has a stack garden.
Where's ours?
Round the back. Where the pigs are.
Bert – In nearly thirty years I have never once heard you call any part of this place the stack garden. Have you just made that up?

I have to say here that the naming of places is something we argue about discuss often.

Bert went on to argue that this area, which I call the pig paddock, has always been referred to as the stack garden and that if I had been brought up on a farm, as I claim, then there would have been a stack garden.

And what would this stack garden be used for?
For stacks.
What kind of stacks?
Hay! Corn! Logs!
No. We had sheds for those and the hay was baled and stored in a hay shed.

He continued to insist that all farms had stack gardens and I argued that stack gardens were all in his head or else something only hill-billies know about.

Currently his names for fields are,

The Field Across The Road

The Meadow

The Corner Field

The Hall Field

The First Hill

The Second Hill

The Third Hill

The Big Hill

He claims not to remember the names of the six fields planted in trees apart from The Whinny Field. These fields are now known as The Trees. I pressed him on this and he managed to recall that two of them had been referred to as,

The Wee Field On The March With Gregg's

The Boag Field

Boag Field. Do you mean bog?
It rhymes with doag*. So what did you ones call a boag then?
We called it The Moss and cut turf in it. We didn't make a field out of it.
Youse were that grand out at Tannaghmore.
We were.

I'm certain sure that when I met Bert he didn't speak of doags, boags or stack gardens. And he used to (I think) tell me things so when the man from the quad bike shop pulled into the yard this morning I thought he wanted to buy a tree, or perhaps he was looking for directions. But no. Bert has bought a quad bike. And never said.

*doag - dog

Happy Birthday Evie!

That wasn't a bad weekend. We had a delightful night out with the Banjos, Jazzer cooked breakfast and Banjo Man finished the decorating. We had the Little Misses for a sleepover and that overlapped with the Banjos. Evie took a great shine to Jazzer and when I was leaving them home the next day referred to her as,

My best friend Jazzer that I like.

On Sunday morning Martha demonstrated her ballet skills on the newly varnished floor while I made a little film, I cannot share as I have temporarily mislaid the lead that connects iPad to PC. Nellybert filmed both girls prancing about for exactly one minute and fifty-seven seconds and when we left to rejoin our rapidly cooling cups of coffee Martha cried,

I need an audience!

She is going places for sure.

I also made a pleasant discovery. When Enid Blyton is writing about Brer Rabbit she can be quite entertaining.

Today was Miss Evie's third birthday. I suppose in a way it still is but, as  I understand she is currently tucked up in bed wearing new birthday jammies, that is it for her until her Big Four in 2015.

Happy Birthday Evie!