Four Years On

The last Leap Year's Day was on a Friday which was just perfect. The week's work done and the very night for a nice relaxing drink or four and an unplanned proposal to the Love of my Life. He didn't wriggle out of it and, if God spares us, we are celebrating our fourth wedding anniversary this coming August.

Davy Jones

It's easy to mock the attraction that many young girls have for performers such as Justin Bieber. The fact is many of us not so young ones had our own version of the baby-face crush. Through the years there have been many of them - David Cassidy, Donny Osmond and way, way back in the day Davy Jones, the Monkees front man. Davy was a teeny-tiny English boy, trying to make his way as an actor when he auditioned for The Monkees TV show. The show was wildly successful and Davy became a pin up. I was one of his hundreds of thousands of fans.

In those days we didn't get to hear every detail of our hero's life. We only got to hear what publicists told us. Our crush was a blank canvas on which our innocent, or not so innocent fantasies could be projected. We did not have to deal with glamorous girlfriends, paternity suits or tales of drunkenness and debauchery. Davy and his ilk were the boys next door, the ones that could be introduced to Mum, who would, of course, disapprove of the long hair but would admire every other aspect of their being.

I bought the Monkees fanzine and relished every lying word. I was thirteen and hadn't discovered Radio Geronimo. Eventually my tastes changed and I transferred my affections to Mickey Dolenz. By fifteen I had outgrown the Monkees entirely.

Davy grew up, lost his teenage heart throb looks, got fatter and died. Those baby face boys don't usually make for handsome men. Donny Osmond might be an exception to that rule but that's Mormon clean living for you, or botox - who knows?

Charlie Gets The Snip

We took Judy and Charlie to the vet's office this morning. Judy just needed to be micro-chipped but Charlie needed to be micro-chipped, vaccinated and rendered infertile. Shortly before we left Judy went out and got a little fresh cattle dung around her neck. I expect she wanted to smell good for the vet. We didn't notice the stink until we were half way there and it was too late to turn back. Still - if a vet cannot handle the smell of shit, then she is in the wrong job.

Vet's waiting rooms are different from other waiting rooms. At the doctor or the solicitor people sit there ignoring each other but at the vet's we're all chatting about our pets and going into the most graphic detail about their symptoms. Mind you Bert's Aunt Nessie used to do that at the doctor's waiting room - I remember this one time she described her chronic constipation problem in horrible detail to a roomful of strangers. I was mortified beyond belief and hoped they'd all think I was a paid carer rather than a relative.

When it was our turn we thought it would take about four people to hold the Judester down for she doesn’t like procedures but in the event it took just us and one very skilful vet to get that little chip into her. I am sure she doesn't even know she had a procedure. She strutted out all happy and cocky as if she had avoided a terrible ordeal.

And of course she got to go home while poor Charlie had to stay. Bert thought she was delighted to have been part of the team that had disposed of him. Dogs can be rather callous.

For some reason, and I know it's not a sensible reason, I feel bad about having male dogs neutered. I have no problem with bitches. I'm certain it is a relief for them not having to have seasons and puppies and all that bother. But males are a different matter. Somehow it seems that their horniness is part of what they are. Am I sexist for thinking this? But sanity has to prevail. Much as I like the idea of intact male dogs I do not like their marking and potential aggression and having them run the country after bitches on heat for days on end. Also, I do not want to be responsible for unwanted puppies being born. There are enough unwanted dogs in the country.

So - Charlie is neutered, micro-chipped and vaccinated. I guess we'll have to keep him now. He's lying on the sofa behind me as I type, still groggy from the anaesthetic and very glad to be back in his Forever Home.

Jazzerbert

Some pictures from a few years ago. I think some strong drink might have been taken.

Captcha Begone!

It was brought to the attention of the Management that visitors to Nelly's Garden wishing to leave comments were being provoked, frustrated and annoyed by that irritating word verification captcha thing.

The Management values visitors and commenters and has tried its damnedest to disable offensive sights like the one pictured at the top of this post. The Management trusts that you, the reader and would-be commenter, will inform us of any further annoyances of this sort.

Shrove Tuesday

Pancake Tuesday again and Bert is using up all our fat, flour, eggs and sugar before the Lenten Fast.

Insert 'What a Tosser' quip here.

To tell the truth these pancake pictures are from a year or so back. Bert is not here right now - he is off out at Greenmount College searching for a horticulturist missing in action.

Meanwhile back at the ranch no pancakes have been cooked. I have batter sitting reading to rock and Pearlie will be having pancakes for lunch. She will not be pleased but we have run out of that plastic white bread she relishes.

And, to tell more truth, if today's treat was to reflect my proposed Lenten Fast the pancakes would be laced with red wine and chocolate. I'm hopping on the wagon for Lent. Can't say I'm looking forward to it but I watched part of a TV programme last night that has put me off the notion of liver and onions for a good long while.

The Secret Life Of An Intellectual

Last Read: Today's Times 'Booze Brittania' and it seems like I'm one of those hidden middle-class alcoholics.

Book I'm Currently Reading: The Time Traveller's Wife and for the second time. I don't remember the first time, just remember liking it.

Television programmes recently watched: An episode of 'Hoarders' and an episode of 'Louie'.

Last movie I watched: The Time Traveller's Wife which is why I'm re-reading.

Audio book I'm listening to: Kings and Queens of England narrated by Antonia Fraser. On James I.

Last magazine I perused: Woman's Realm June 1959.

Last music I listened to: Daniel Barenboim conducting the Chicago Symphony playing 'Enigma Variations'.

Romantic Meal For Two And Counting...

Rod comes in just as we're finishing dinner. I admit to being on my second glass of wine and not knowing where I'm going to find the get-up-and go to bake Music Night Scones. He says,

Just right you are! A nice romantic St Valentine's meal for two then?

There were three of us actually and just the two fellows watching us.

This is par for the course at Nellybert's - if you come in when we're about to eat we'll offer you some and, if you decline, we'll allow you to watch us scoffing anyway.

We had cottage pie made with own minced pig, own spuds and swede and own haricot beans from freezer. That was the last of the frozen home-grown vegetables, the hungry gap is here. Music Night Scones got made and are just about to be served.

Sleeping

We had the Senior Dog, Paddy, humanely put down last Thursday. He'd been in a decline for the past year but had really started to fail this past few weeks. I'd say things like, "I don't think Paddy's long for this world," but he'd keep plodding on although his sight and hearing was almost away. It was two days before the end that I actually realised that he was dying. He didn't seem to be in any pain but you never know. He was certainly getting weaker. He couldn't jump on the sofa and he could hardly stand when he went outside to pee. He kept going round in circles before he'd lie down. he didn't look comfortable. He was starting to go off his food. On Thursday morning I made him a scrambled egg with butter. He ate half of it. Normally he'd have gobbled a delicacy like that. It was his last meal. Less than an hour later I made a very fast decision and called the vet.

She came to the house. Bert put Paddy to rest in the garden just after two o'clock.

Ever since I've been in pieces. I don't know why. I've lost lots of pets over the years but none have affected me like this. I think it was because it was done so quickly. But that is what we are supposed to do isn't it? Prevent them from suffering.

Paddy's Blog

An old blog post from 2008

Hi fans. Paddy here. I disremember the actual day I was pupped but, like Queenie, I have an official birthday and it is this very day - St Patrick's Day. It's four years now since Nelly and DeeMac sprung me from the Crosskennan Animal Shelter - and four happy years they have been for Nellybert et al. For it's damn lucky they were to be blessed with a fine animal like myself.

You know if it hadn't been for DeeMac (so beautiful, so wise) I might not have been living with the Nellyberts at all. Family folklore has it that Nelly was reluctant to pick me on the grounds that I looked too much like Danny. Don't know why that should have been a problem but as those who know her will agree our Nelly's a bit on the mental side.

That's myself and oul Dan above. Which is which you'll be asking? Well I'm the young snake-hipped sexy looking one and Danny's the oul fat-arsed mental looking one.

Of course I wasn't here long before Bert accidentally ran Dan over with the van. Old codger was completely deaf, half-blind and crippled so was happy for him maybe. Even so we were all very sad. Them ones buried him in the garden and I often visit his grave to remember the oul fellow.

That's all for now folks. I'll look out some more of the oul photos and maybe do another post before long. Nighty night.

Me at Danny's grave

To be continued.

Paddy

Paddy - Mountain Dog, originally uploaded by NellyMoser.

Paddy - who shared our life from 17th March 2004 until 9th February 2012.

Rest in peace old son. You will be missed

Tough Times

I heard today that two young women, both close to me, one very close, are facing unemployment through restructuring and redundancy. These are hard times indeed.

And closer to home our oldest dog Paddy is showing all the impending signs of decline and fail.

I'm not feeling particularly cheerful today.

Nowhere To Sit

It was only today that I was saying to Bert that I do not know how people who keep too many pets cope. It must make life very difficult for them. I know I wouldn't like it. The noise, the hair, the clamour, the cat fights, the expense and the dirt. Just a very few animals are quite enough for Nellybert. Or so I tell myself.

Dead Men's Tales

We had some very sad news this morning. Bert's Aunt phoned to tell us that she'd heard that Paddy, an old family friend, had been found dead in his garden a couple of days ago, no one knew how long he'd lain there. Bert went very quiet. He'd known Paddy all his life.

A little later he was wondering what would happen to Paddy's dogs. There were at least three of them, one a quiet house dog and the other two wild, cross collies.

Pearlie is on one of her regular respite visits to the nursing home and it is up in the general direction of Paddy's house. After he'd visited with his mother and given her the unhappy news of the old fellow's demise he decided to drive past Paddy's isolated home to see if his dogs were O.K. He found the front door lying open and gingerly, in case the cross dogs were loose, he entered the house. And there was Paddy sitting in front of a roaring fire enjoying a cigarette! Reports of his death were very exaggerated.

Paddy told Bert this tale. A few nights back the house dog wakened him with a gentle yip. He crept out of bed and peeked out the window. There were three intruders lurking about outside. He pulled on his trousers, slipped out and loosened the shed door where the wild dogs slept. Then he slipped back into the house and stood at a window to watch the proceedings. He told Bert he'd never ever seen boys move as fast and that the yelps of them were shocking. He said he doesn't expect the would-be burglars back any time soon.

Happy Birthday Leitrim Sister

Hope you have a good one Dede.

Sometimes Google Is Just No Help

This morning I went for a walk in the Glens with Nez and Fly. Nez knows the name of all of the hills and has tramped over the most of them. Fly likes to run the drains and culverts but then he is a water dog. While we were out I found myself remembering all the times I'd spent in the Glens as a child.

Our parents would pile us into the car, Matty would have made sandwiches or maybe a ween of wee currant buns. We'd go to the beach, usually Waterfoot or Cushendall, and sometimes Daddy would park up on the way down and we'd run down to one of the streams that ran through the Glens and play in the water and jump from stone to stone and eat our picnic there. Sometimes I thought I liked the river better than the beach.

During my childhood there was a landslide in one of the Glens that made headline news on local television. Those were the days when events in Northern Ireland didn't regularly make the national or international news and this event was very notable. If I remember it correctly some livestock was lost, a cottage was swept away and a farmer had a narrow escape. Some time afterwards Daddy drove us down to look at the aftermath. I remember seeing the brown earth and boulders where the grass, plants and trees had been.

But I cannot remember where it was and an hour or more of research on Google has not made me any wiser. It would have been sometime in the 1960s. Anybody out there who might have an idea when and where it happened?

But anyways - my research turned up the BBC archive site and I found this clip of a 1964 Fleadh Cheoil in Clones. There are quite a few well known musicians playing including Luke Kelly and Andy Irvine. They'd only have been in their early twenties then. Luke's long away but Bert went to see Andy Irvine in Ballymoney last week. It's worth a look if you like that sort of thing.

Cheffing

A while back Hannah's boyfriend Raymond bought a raffle ticket for a children's charity and won a chef! Well what he actually won was a three course meal for two prepared by a chef in the winner's own home. They are a cunning pair young Raymondo and the Banana and I guess they knew they'd have to give their kitchen a serious cleaning so they wangled it that Willy (the chef) would prepare a three course meal for four in Nellybert's kitchen. So on Saturday past Bert gave the kitchen a wide berth while I cleaned and decluttered. I reckoned chefs need plenty of room and if they don't get it they'd be all shouty.

Anyway the time came, the kitchen was fairly presentable and the chef rocked up with a box of ingredients and knives and things. The knives looked pretty sharp and I was glad I'd made the surfaces shiny and empty for him. I don't know why I worried myself. He was pretty easy-going and not a bit shouty. After a wee test run of the cooker he got started on the meal and didn't even seem to mind that the cats kept going to sleep in his box of knives and things.

Bert naps between courses.

What can I say? The meal was delicious and enjoyable. Maybe the best bit, apart from the monkfish in orange sauce, was watching how he worked. The more he cooked the cleaner the kitchen got. And he only used a tiny part of the kitchen surfaces. If I'd been preparing a three course meal the kitchen would be like a battlefield. I decided that I'd have to make more of an effort in future to clean as I go.

Fred eats monkfish tail

Afterwards I told Bert this and he said,

Haven't I been saying that to you for years?

Huh?

Haven't you ever watched me cook? I clean as I go. I don't use every saucepan in the house. I don't leave a big mess behind me.

Bert you can't even make a cup of coffee without spilling milk and/or water on the surfaces and the floor and you always leave the cupboard doors open. When you baked that cake the other evening the minute you had it in the oven you walked off for a smoke telling me to keep an eye on it and leaving me to put away the mixer and wash all the dishes.

Not true!

True!

I cooked a two course meal for Zoe and the family this evening. I attempted to recreate Willy's bed of curly kale cooked with smoked bacon and was determined to better his apple crumble. The curly kale recipe still needs work but I succeeded with a pear crumble made with fresh ginger. Bert made yummy gravy (we had a pork shank) to which he added Willy's secret ingredient and then he made yummy custard.

And what of the clean as you go? I didn't do too badly at all and the clearing up after we'd eaten was minimal. It included wiping up the cornflour Bert spilled down the front of the cooker while the dogs cleaned up the custard he spilled on the floor.

To be fair though he's the boy who cleans out the chicken house, the pig sty and the cattle shed. What's a bit of cornflour compared to that?

Saving Teddy From The Flames

Are you sentimentally attached to this old bear or shall I throw him out?

Ach! Throw him out.

Are you sure? Would you like me to open the fire door right now and burn him in front of you?

Bert goes silent. Then answers,

No I wouldn't like that.

Teddy must be at least 50 years old. He is a bit disgusting and his stuffing (whatever that is) appears to have atrophied inside his body. He's as flat as a pancake and not a pretty sight.

Hannah and I decide to perform emergency surgery.

The stuffing is pretty horrible. Bert thought it was sawdust but it seems to be some sort of foam rubber and it has undergone a chemical change. By rights this bear should be blazing in the fire.

Yucky stuff. It sticks on our fingers. We decide that no child must ever come in contact with this hazardous bear or, at least, not until they've had all their injections.

We stuff him with old cut up purple tights. It takes four pairs! And Teddy is still still pretty flat.

But at least Bert is pleased.

NellyMoser's photostream

NellyMoser's photostream on Flickr.

Well Hello!

Some things I like very much about this new template and they are...

• I have followers! Who knew?
• It is really easy to add people to my links list. This is something that I have neglected for a long time because it was such a tedious task.
• I now go to my blog to check up on who is updating and it is a much pleasanter place to do so than dull old Google Reader.

All good - so far.