Are you time poor? Too busy to go on the lovely country walks that I go on? Do you live outside Norn Iron? Do you miss our leafy lanes and flaggy roads and those lunatics on tractors? Do you yearn for a glimpse of Slemish or the Bann?
If so I have a solution. I am prepared to take a walk on your behalf. At your request I'll walk your chosen route, take some photographs along the way and write about it on the blog.
Option 1. The walk should be no more than 5-7 miles in total. The going should be moderate and the range should be within 15 miles of Cullybackey. Cost for this option is nil, free and gratis.
Option 2. The walk should be in Northern Ireland. The going should be moderate to slightly tough. The distance covered 8-10 miles. A small fee plus expenses will be charged.
Option 3. The walk can be anywhere in the whole wide world. It can be any length, any distance or any kind of terrain. A huge fee and expenses will be charged.
Sunday, July 31, 2005
Saturday, July 30, 2005
Kissing Donkeys on the Dunnygarron Road*
Willy Mason sings in Oxygen,
We can be richer than industry,
As long as we know there's things we
don't really need
Some other far less original person said, "The best things in life are free."
I wouldn't want to be that woman from Limerick who has won £77 million on the Irish lottery. That's more than enough to thoroughly wreck your life. It would make me deeply depressed to have the responsibility of it. And I'd never live long enough to spend it and it would not be good for my children. So it's just as well I don't do lotteries.
And many of the best things in life are, if not entirely free, low cost. Like walking. So why is it that I returned from my walk today with a great desire for new possessions sparked by my envious glances into other people's fields and gardens?
I want -
Chickens like those ones
A donkey like the one Rosie nuzzled and kissed
And some red pom pom dahlias like those ones
*No picture of the donkey available
We can be richer than industry,
As long as we know there's things we
don't really need
Some other far less original person said, "The best things in life are free."
I wouldn't want to be that woman from Limerick who has won £77 million on the Irish lottery. That's more than enough to thoroughly wreck your life. It would make me deeply depressed to have the responsibility of it. And I'd never live long enough to spend it and it would not be good for my children. So it's just as well I don't do lotteries.
And many of the best things in life are, if not entirely free, low cost. Like walking. So why is it that I returned from my walk today with a great desire for new possessions sparked by my envious glances into other people's fields and gardens?
I want -
Chickens like those ones
A donkey like the one Rosie nuzzled and kissed
And some red pom pom dahlias like those ones
*No picture of the donkey available
Friday, July 29, 2005
Walking
I've become addicted to walking. I walk the dogs, I walk without the dogs, sometimes I listen to music, sometimes I listen to the birds and the tractors. I walk on the roads, I walk on the paths, I walk in the woods, sometimes I walk with Bert, mostly I walk alone. I meet strangers on the road and I say hello. I meet friends and neighbours and I stop for a moment. I walk about four miles a day and I'm one dress size smaller than a month ago. Walking makes me happy.
Futless
According to The Concise Ulster Dictionary 'futless' means to be unsteady on the feet or staggering about as in 'futless drunk'. I have also heard it being used to insult someone's dancing ability as in, 'ye wouldn't want to be getting up with Jimmy for he's futless'.
'Futless' may also be used to describe the situation of being without decent or serviceable shoes. I once heard someone tell my mother that she was futless and hadn't a shoe to her fut.
Matty says that during her childhood it wasn't uncommon for children to go without shoes during the summer. She also said that she and her sisters and brother weren't allowed to go barefoot and that having their children decently shod was a big priority for her parents. She said she felt envious of the children who could go without shoes during the summer months.
Meanwhile over at my father's homestead going barefoot in summer was perfectly OK even though his parents were quite well off and able to afford luxuries like paid-for education. But then my father's mother was a mountainy woman and as everyone do know mountainy people are very rugged and don't care much for the conventions of flatlanders.
There are very few people today who cannot afford a decent pair of shoes yet among my friends and fellow bloggers foot injuries due to futlessness abound. The first was Stephen who spiked his foot then Mrs The Wee Manny (pictured above with her hubby The Wee) had her daughter's horse clip clop the big hoof on her bare foot. Mrs The Wee being as tough as old boots, and she should have been wearing those old boots, swears it wasn't a bit sore but it seems she's going to lose a toe. The horse's newly shod hoof ripped all the skin off to the bone and the doc says it could take six months to heal. Part of the nail bed remains which means she'd grow a big horny protuberance on the flayed toe so the best advice is to chop it off. Luckily it's a middle toe so her balance shouldn't be affected.
Nelly's advice to those of you who like a bit of air about your toes is to get yourselves a nice pair of comfy sandals. But not flip-flops unless you've been invited to the White House where they are de rigeur. However if you're hanging out with horses it's boots you need.
*My 1996 Christmas present from Ganching. Invaluable resource.
Thursday, July 28, 2005
Dem You IRA
Dem you Gerry and Martin. Dem you Ira. Dem you for disbanding on the night that UTV Live was going to feature Bert's amazing clematis on the teevee.
Oh well - nobody stands in the way of historee. Not even Bert and his clematee (sic)
Oh well - nobody stands in the way of historee. Not even Bert and his clematee (sic)
A Message from Harry
Rosie says: We all hate you cat. All the wee wrens hate you and all the wee thrushes. All the wee birds and all the wee shrew mice hate your guts. Francis Joseph Banjo hates you and so does Paddy. I hate you and Nellybert hates you and Ed and Mikey hate you. Everybody hates you.
Harry de Cat says: Fuck yez all.
Happy Birthday Matty & Mick
My ex-husband and my mum never forget each other's birthdays.
Happy birthday to the pair of you from all at Nellybert's. Except Harry who is cata non grata.
Wednesday, July 27, 2005
Farewell Party
Hannah was going to come home to Norn Iron for a while after years and years of living in England. So last weekend she had a big leaving do with all her friends. She had such a good time at the party that she has changed her mind about coming back here. She cannot leave her mates y'see. And there is one mate in particular....
So Hannah this message is for you - we love you to bits and we're hoping it all works out good for you.
Hope to see you soon.
So Hannah this message is for you - we love you to bits and we're hoping it all works out good for you.
Hope to see you soon.
Belling the Cat
Domestic cats kill over 275 million animals and birds per year. Harry de Cat certainly does his bit to keep up the numbers. He struck again this morning only minutes after being let out of the house. The victim was a young thrush. I won't go into the gory details as they are too disturbing. But it was alive, barely, when I rescued it. It did not survive as it was too badly maimed.
I hate Harry today.
I said to Bert,
So we've decided to get him a collar with a bell on it. A really big bell about as big as his head. Made of cast iron. Or lead.
I hate Harry today.
I said to Bert,
I feel like getting rid of him.
You were keen enough to have him.
I know but Scarey Tam got me in a weak moment just after Caps died. At least Caps didn't kill anything towards the end of her days. With only the three legs and all.
I wonder what the vet would say if we brought him down and asked for one of his legs off?
She'd be shocked. But he'd need two off to stop him.
The two back ones?
He'd be able to trail himself out and kill on. We'd need his teeth out too.
And de-clawed.
He'd probably go out and punch the birds senseless then suck them to death.
What about getting two legs off on the same side? That'd stop him.
So we've decided to get him a collar with a bell on it. A really big bell about as big as his head. Made of cast iron. Or lead.
Tuesday, July 26, 2005
Iris Murdoch Feet
Iris Murdoch was a favourite author of my youth and I was going to write something here that would show me being a right clever clogs who understood everything she ever wrote but that would be a big fat lie. A lot of her deeper meanings must have washed over me but I still enjoyed her books tremendously. Of Iris the person I knew little but how that has changed since her illness and death.
Now Elias Canetti, one of Iris Murdoch's many lovers, has had his memoirs published eleven years after his death and Iris gets her usual pasting. Nobel laureate Canetti was at least ten years older than Iris. He wasn't exactly a matinee idol, not that Iris would have cared about that, but he had a huge intellect to go with his enormous ego and maybe, for all I know, he had a big wanger too. He had a three year affair with Iris and in his memoir, written 40 years after it ended, he was most ungallant about her - out of sheer jealousy of her reputation and literary success I'd wager.
And how has he expressed this lack of gallantry? He sneered at the food she offered him, he mocked her 'ungainly' underwear and he accused her of being lumpen in the sack. Apparently she only became animated at the talking after the act stage and then she devoured everything he had to say so that she could use it in her best selling novels. But the worst thing he said, in my opinion, was when he referred to her as wearing 'grotesque sandals' on her big ugly feet and of walking like a 'repulsive bear'.
That hit me hard for I'm not certain that I don't have a bear-like walk and I also have 'ugly feet' and 'grotesque sandals'. Men can be so shallow.
Anyway it inspired me to write this song. Sing it to the music 'Bette Davis Eyes' in the husky manner of Kim Carnes. Of course it's about me.
Now Elias Canetti, one of Iris Murdoch's many lovers, has had his memoirs published eleven years after his death and Iris gets her usual pasting. Nobel laureate Canetti was at least ten years older than Iris. He wasn't exactly a matinee idol, not that Iris would have cared about that, but he had a huge intellect to go with his enormous ego and maybe, for all I know, he had a big wanger too. He had a three year affair with Iris and in his memoir, written 40 years after it ended, he was most ungallant about her - out of sheer jealousy of her reputation and literary success I'd wager.
And how has he expressed this lack of gallantry? He sneered at the food she offered him, he mocked her 'ungainly' underwear and he accused her of being lumpen in the sack. Apparently she only became animated at the talking after the act stage and then she devoured everything he had to say so that she could use it in her best selling novels. But the worst thing he said, in my opinion, was when he referred to her as wearing 'grotesque sandals' on her big ugly feet and of walking like a 'repulsive bear'.
That hit me hard for I'm not certain that I don't have a bear-like walk and I also have 'ugly feet' and 'grotesque sandals'. Men can be so shallow.
Anyway it inspired me to write this song. Sing it to the music 'Bette Davis Eyes' in the husky manner of Kim Carnes. Of course it's about me.
Her hair is curly brown
Her temper's not too sweet
She'll really bring you down
She's got Iris Murdoch feet
She'll set her dogs on you
She'll put you on the street
She'll tell you nothing true
She's got Iris Murdoch feet
And she'll tease you
She'll unease you
She just hates to please you
She's atrocious
And she knows just
what it takes to leave you crushed
Feeling like you've been beat
She's got Iris Murdoch feet
Experiphant
Just experimenting with Blogger Images which does not work for me when I use Mozilla Firefox. But it works with Internet Explorer.Cue for much head scratching, pondering and referrals to the Idiot's Guide to Computing.
Monday, July 25, 2005
The Book of Lies
This morning we opened the door to Harry de Cat. He lurched in with a young robin in his slavering jaws. Bert kicked him up the arse and the robin fell from his maw. We closed Harry in the house and took the robin outside. It was stunned, covered in cat slabbers but alive. Bert laid it down gently on the drystone wall and the wee bugger flew off!
"Why can't you hunt rats and mice...and squirrels?" Bert asked the cat. Harry made him no reply and leapt on the cat feeding surface and roared for Kitty Treats.
Oh the wee birds are lovely but - hoochin with worms. And natch so is Harry which is why he's always hungry. Bert says the pet shop girl's worm treatments are no good and that we should take Harry to the vet for a good strong cure. "Like being put down," I suggested.
Now Bert has told me a terrible thing and I'm too scared to look it up in case it's true. He says that the roundworms that Harry gets from the birds and rodents can drop out of his bum and dessicate. Then if they are ingested they rehydrate and off they go again laying their horrible eggs and so on. Bert says they can lie dormant and dried up for six months or more. I asked him where he heard this and he said "I read it in a book." I said I hoped it was the Book of Lies.
"Why can't you hunt rats and mice...and squirrels?" Bert asked the cat. Harry made him no reply and leapt on the cat feeding surface and roared for Kitty Treats.
Oh the wee birds are lovely but - hoochin with worms. And natch so is Harry which is why he's always hungry. Bert says the pet shop girl's worm treatments are no good and that we should take Harry to the vet for a good strong cure. "Like being put down," I suggested.
Now Bert has told me a terrible thing and I'm too scared to look it up in case it's true. He says that the roundworms that Harry gets from the birds and rodents can drop out of his bum and dessicate. Then if they are ingested they rehydrate and off they go again laying their horrible eggs and so on. Bert says they can lie dormant and dried up for six months or more. I asked him where he heard this and he said "I read it in a book." I said I hoped it was the Book of Lies.
Litterbugging
Here's a puzzle I pondered on whilst out walking.
Why are so many empty Red Bull cans and Lucozade Sport cartons flung from cars on to the roadside? Are these not energy drinks? Can the drivers therefore not summon enough energy to properly dispose of their empties in a bin?
Why are so many empty Red Bull cans and Lucozade Sport cartons flung from cars on to the roadside? Are these not energy drinks? Can the drivers therefore not summon enough energy to properly dispose of their empties in a bin?
Clematis florida 'sieboldii'
So this wee garden centre man phones up and says,
Well I knew he meant 'Sieboldii' but as you know the customer is always right.
I was telling Bert about it and he said,
"Have yez any of that clematis Garibaldi'?.
"We have indeed."
"Keep me a whole big pile of them. I'll be up with the trailer tonight.
Well I knew he meant 'Sieboldii' but as you know the customer is always right.
I was telling Bert about it and he said,
"Oh I know that wee boy. He was up with his trailer one night loading up with clematis and he says to me, 'Can you sell them oul clematis?' and I says to him that I could sell them to a band playing and he says to me as he loads them on thick, 'Thats funny for I cannae sell them atall.'"
Dear Gorgeous
As my reader will know I like to keep this corner of the net fairly upbeat which is why I haven't mentioned (until now) Bert's sore back.
It was killing him yesterday when we walked over to Gillies Bar for our tea. Incidentally Gillies was pretty full for an early summer evening. Apparently this was because Phil & Jill were playing (stifles yawn) the afternoon session. While we were there we ran into M & K who we haven't seen for ages. I was telling K about Bert's poorliness and she said, jokingly, that I'd have to trade him in for a 'toy boy'. Bert, being six years younger than me, was a 'toy boy' when we met back in the 80s but now I'm afraid he is a bit wrecked. I shan't trade him in though. His back will get better with a little TLC.
Which is why I said I'd write him a letter to give to the digger man Sammy 'Gorgeous' Gage. Bert was dreading today. He always hates it when he has to hire the digger man. He said "If Gorgeous thinks I'm for spending all day operating a shovel with this back I don't know what I'll do...."
So
I have another one to write concerning Mrs The Wee Manny,
Ian says that'll put the bongo dancing out of her for a while.
It was killing him yesterday when we walked over to Gillies Bar for our tea. Incidentally Gillies was pretty full for an early summer evening. Apparently this was because Phil & Jill were playing (stifles yawn) the afternoon session. While we were there we ran into M & K who we haven't seen for ages. I was telling K about Bert's poorliness and she said, jokingly, that I'd have to trade him in for a 'toy boy'. Bert, being six years younger than me, was a 'toy boy' when we met back in the 80s but now I'm afraid he is a bit wrecked. I shan't trade him in though. His back will get better with a little TLC.
Which is why I said I'd write him a letter to give to the digger man Sammy 'Gorgeous' Gage. Bert was dreading today. He always hates it when he has to hire the digger man. He said "If Gorgeous thinks I'm for spending all day operating a shovel with this back I don't know what I'll do...."
So
Dear Gorgeous,
Please can Bert be excused digging with a shovel as he has a very sore back.
Yours lovingly Mrs Moser
I have another one to write concerning Mrs The Wee Manny,
To whom it may concern at IT support
Please can Mrs The Wee Manny be excused from lugging hard drives about as her wee toe is in a jar in the fridge after she was prancing around in her bare feet at the stables after Cleo (a horse) got new shoes and stood on her fut.
Yours sincerely, Mrs Moser
Ian says that'll put the bongo dancing out of her for a while.
Sunday, July 24, 2005
Burn the Witch!
I had this chat the other day with a very nice Christian lady.
So I had a wee look on the web and turned this up. Here is a bit of advice from the site.
What should be done if you have occultic objects, toys, games or Harry Potter books in your house? Simple... destroy them. Do not garage sell them or give them to someone else. No, destroy this Satanic trash and never again allow such filth into your house.
Don't forget to get rid of your rock and roll collection, your boxed DVD set of Lord of the Rings, the Narnia books, any Tarot or Pokemon cards you've got lying about and a zillion other things. It's what God wants.
ME: I hear the Pope thinks the Harry Potter books are a bit dubious. What's your take on it?
VNCL: Our Pastor doesn't agree with them either.
ME: Why so?
VNCL: He says they're demonic and they celebrate the devil.
ME: But there are tons of children's books, TV programmes and films about witches and magic. Why all the fuss about Harry Potter? I think it must be because J.K. Rowling is making shed loads of money out of it.
VNCL: Sure she's a witch too.
ME: What! I never heard that. Who says she is?
VNCL: Paisley's church.
So I had a wee look on the web and turned this up. Here is a bit of advice from the site.
What should be done if you have occultic objects, toys, games or Harry Potter books in your house? Simple... destroy them. Do not garage sell them or give them to someone else. No, destroy this Satanic trash and never again allow such filth into your house.
Don't forget to get rid of your rock and roll collection, your boxed DVD set of Lord of the Rings, the Narnia books, any Tarot or Pokemon cards you've got lying about and a zillion other things. It's what God wants.
Pooped
Who would have thought that a picture of a derelict mill (even if it was taken from Ed's back garden) would have beaten this wonderful picture of Paddy to the number 2 slot of my most viewed photos in Flickr.
No doubt this is the sort of scene that Ed often sees from the bottom of his garden if he looks to the left instead of straight ahead and across the Maine.
No doubt this is the sort of scene that Ed often sees from the bottom of his garden if he looks to the left instead of straight ahead and across the Maine.
A Message to Mikey
Please tell me the exact times of your visit so I can book some time off from the coal face.
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