State of Play

Well, here we are - the last evening of 2016 and the 31st blog post in a row. We are expecting a quiet one. Our Godson is here and we hope for two extra guitar players. There are already two extra dogs. I had my first glass of wine at 4 pm and may well be asleep before midnight. I have made a coconut loaf and am in the middle of preparing a sausage casserole.

Here is a picture.

Nothing could be better than listening to and enjoying, in one's own home, live and beautiful music. This has been our pleasure in 2016, in all the years before and, I'm hoping, in all the years to come.

Happy New Year. No matter what, there will always be music.

Waxing Religious

To pot has gone this diet! But at least no turkey was wasted. We got an 11 pound one from Clint, got two good days out of it and then three days of (amazingly good) turkey broth. Swisser called this evening just as we were serving the last of it for supper and there was me worrying that we mightn't manage the last two bowlfuls. Swisser took care of them, no bother. I love it when all the food gets eaten, especially when it is good food.

Hannah and I took the girls to a Hipster cafe in Ballymena today. Couple of coffees, 2 kiddy meals, and one bowl of soup and the bill was eye-watering. And it turned out they hadn't even billed us for Evie's French toast! We got that one on the house which was very Christian of them. The place was full to the rafters and they must be making a small fortune but, fair play to them, moustache wax ain't cheap.

There were a couple of fan boys sitting next to us and I was eavesdropping like mad. Turned out they were very interested in the twirly-whiskered one. One asks the other,

What church does he go to?

I didn't catch the answer. They then proceeded to have a conversation about St Thomas Aquinas and how the prayers add zest to a plainer diet of general Bible study. It was only marginally better than listening to the girls bicker and fight. What is happening to young people today?

Feeling Proud

It's normal to feel pride in one's children's (and grandchildren's) achievements and, I'd also include in that the pride I feel in my sibling's achievements. Part of the pleasure I feel is knowing very well the obstacles and struggles they faced in reaching their goals. But I'm a realistic person. I know that everyone feels proud of family member's achievements and that is why I rarely boast of it. Unless it is to someone who knows our family well.

When I meet people who do talk expansively about what their children (and grandchildren) have achieved I will rarely compete. Except for this one time. I bumped into an old acquaintance and invited her for coffee. She is a lovely woman but, we had barely taken our seats and she is telling me about her granddaughter who is a pilot. Well, why not? I ask if she works for an airline but it turns out she is a helicopter pilot which is very impressive. But, when my friend got to the part where this young woman's father had bought her a helicopter for her birthday I almost lost the power of speech. My friend is a decade older than me and for a moment I wondered if she was living in the land of fantasy. But no. T'was true. (I checked it all out on the internet later).

Well with this on the table what could I offer? That my seven-year-old granddaughter is the lead vocalist in a folk group and debuted (to great acclaim) at a gig in Sligo town that was attended by a great number of leading academics and someone from Vancouver. But I didn't say so. So this was my best shot - that my three girls are great at managing money which, I believe, comes from childhood experience when they were reared in less than affluent circumstances. My friend said this was applicable also to herself.

Ah well. It was great to see her for she hasn't a boring bone in her body.

This makes me proud. My second youngest sister, my granddaughters and my oldest daughter performing at the party to celebrate my youngest sister's Ph.D. There are lots of things that make me proud of my family, almost too many to mention, but I will sneak them in, in other posts.

Nelly Christmas

About five weeks ago I decided to cut down on the eating and drinking as I was getting way too fat. And, it was all going so very well. I'd have a few glasses of red wine on a Saturday night and avoided alcohol on the other six days of the week. I watched what I ate, reduced my portions, got back to a daily walk. I was feeling lots better and had reduced my tonnage by 9 lbs. Some of my trousers were actually getting a bit fally-off.

Then Christmas. I had good intentions about the scoffing but the drinking got in the way of that. Stepped on the scales this morning to find that I have gained 6 lbs. Ah well. I will just have to start all over again.

Here is a picture of chubby ol' Nelly hiding behind a dog. Photo courtesy of Miss Martha.

T-bar shoes

Hey Ho! Just blocked someone on Flickr. someone who seemed to have a thing about little children wearing t-bar shoes. I checked his profile and he (I'm assuming it is a 'he') does not share. That is a deal-breaker for me.

Then, after I blocked him I checked his favourites and they are 'safe for work'. Still going to block the person even though I'm feeling very uncomfortably judgemental about it.

These are a selection of my blocked Flickr user's favourite pictures. I'm assuming all these children are probably dead - unlike Bert, in his t-bar shoes.

Boxing Day Chillfest

First Boxing Day in years that I haven't cooked a three-course meal, instead we had a hot, peppery soup and delicious potato soda bread. Desserts were the sherry trifle and the Sicilian Orange and Almond Cake. I have to say that this has been the best Boxing Day ever. Here are some pictures to remind me...

Martha and Fergus working on 'You Are My Sunshine'.

Roy wanted to duet with Hannah but he stank of dead sea bream.

Evie just wanted Fergus to read her a story.

Alan and Jess began the love affair of the year.

The Day Arrives

I have noted some folks posting their Christmas table settings on social media and very lovely they were too. In fact, I was almost tempted to post my own but, instead of that, I will describe it. The tablecloth was the chicken one I bought from the packman, the plates were my best Poole Pottery ones, just the three of them. The cutlery was lifted pell mell from the drawers and left in a bunch, there were no ornaments other than a jar of cranberry sauce. We helped ourselves from the kitchen island, piled our plates with traditional fare, turkey and ham, brussels sprouts, roast potatoes, carrots and parsnips, gravy, stuffing. The peas did not work out but there was no room for them anyway.

It has been a pleasant, stress-free and chilled Christmas, just as it should be.

Christmas Eve

Christmas jobs done - stuffing, mince pies, ham, made turkey oven-ready, last of presents wrapped, decorated tree and put up Christmas cards, wrote this blog post.

Other tasks completed - fed pigs and hens, cleaned house to usual low standard, entertained guests, phoned plumber.

Not done - I did not make a wreath, forgot the tinfoil and did not make the chocolate cheesecake.

Happy Christmas Eve!

Two Sleeps

It is going to be so very fine going to bed tonight and knowing that I don't have to get up to take the hard-working Hannah to work for 4 am. I'm writing this with a wee gin by my side, Hannah is off to her staff do and Bert is making supper. 

Bert also shopped today and made a very good job of it. I had listed three lemons and he came back with three lemons and two limes because that was cheaper than three lemons alone. He also wrote one card and was almost in tears because he said he has 'forgotten how to write.' I had to show him how to make the letter 'f'. Obviously, he must sell no plant that contains the letter 'f'. Now let me think - clematis, Parthenocissus, lonicera, hedera, solanum. No 'f' anywhere there. He used to sell standard fuchsias and they were beautiful. He told me that he stopped because they kept falling over when he delivered them but I reckon the true reason was because he couldn't make an 'f' when he was writing the invoices. 

 One beautiful standard fuchsia, three interested punters. The one in the cap is Bert's late father. And the dogs are our first dogs.That's how long it is since Bert sold fuchsias. 

Christmas preparations so far -

Baked Sicilian Orange & Almond Cake.
Brought Christmas Tree into the house.
Collected Christmas decorations from attic.
Bought sherry for trifle.
Forced Bert to write a Christmas card (see above)
Gave up on wreath. Too stormy to source ivy and berried cotoneaster.

Three Sleeps

There was more gridlock today, but despite that, it was a good day.

We went to a Christmas Party, Martha, Evie, myself and Bert. Was at the Oldpark Road, with the girl's friends - Caitlin, Cara and Maria and our oldest friends Robin & Lorraine, also known as the Wees. The food was good and the craic was mighty, I'd forgotten how much fun hide and seek was, not that the grands played it, we just lied a lot as to where certain small people may or may not be hiding.

On the way back I headed for Cullybackey instead of Galgorm and there was Gridlock. I allowed a huge tractor and trailer in front of me just for the fun of it. As Bert said, it might cut a swathe for us. No such luck. The tractor and trailer pulled out, all optimism and the Peugeot van (us) behind it, all filled with Christmas spirit and then - everything stopped. Then - a steady stream of small cars driven by small people mounting the pavement and edging slowly past the tractor. All it would have taken would have been just one considerate, mannerly and decent soul to wait until the tractor, the Peugeot van, and a few other vehicles to pass and we'd all have moved towards our final destinations. What is it about Cullybackey drivers that brings churlishness to the fore? As always, there was the usual ignorantly parked drivers outside Boots the Chemist. This would be Boots that actually has an underused car park at the back of its premises. See sick people? See so called sick people with big free prescription needs? These are people that believe themselves to be so entitled. Let someone else pay for my paracetamol only 25 pence per packet at most leading stores. I'll park wherever I like. I'm an invalid. Who cares if delivery trucks and other humans are inconvenienced? Not I.

Enz-way - rant over. I'm glad I don't work in a chemist shop. I think I might get to suffer those killing people fantasies I had when I worked at that Dunclug hostel.

Which reminds me, last night's waking dream was Prince Harry dying from a wasting disease in a squalorous building and tended in his last hours by my brothers, Eamon and Joseph. What the hell's that all about?

Christmas preparation - presents wrapped and given. Party attended and human beings treated in a loving and Christmas-spirited manner.

Gridlock

Four more sleeps...

Busy day today. Took Hannah to town and shopped in Lidl where the Christmas vegetables were so cheap they were practically free. Got into a conversation with a pleasant lady who informed me that she expected her vegetables to stay fresh until New Year's Day as she planned to keep them in a cold shed. Also bought three more bottles of wine. Will keep them in a cool scullery.

Got home and removed vegetables from packaging and took them to a cold shed where I found Bert fashioning a table from a vintage Singer sewing machine base and a slab of cold marble. I expect this will be my Christmas present.

Cleaned the house to a low standard. Went back into town to pick up Hannah. It was Bert's turn but he was fashioning a table etc. and he also needed to bring the pigs in from the cold field.

Cullybackey. What can I say? It's never easy to get through it at the best of times but five o'clock, a few days before Christmas is far from the best of times. There was a big yellow dump truck in front of us and I was explaining to Hannah that it was a good plan when following a large and bulky vehicle to assume that if it could get through then the medium size van following it should get through too. It has always worked for me. Until today that is. We got as far as the Mace shop when the dump truck stopped. And did not move. After four minutes or so the nose of a white jeep appeared, the driver trying to get between the truck and the Maine Bakery with only a slim chance of making it. Inch by inch the truck moved forward, the jeep was nearly through the window of the bakery and I managed to wiggle into a space in front of the supermarket taking Hannah and I out of the jam. The dump truck got through and the jeep got through, the woman driving it staring straight ahead as she knew she looked like an eejit and there behind the jeep was a huge forty foot lorry. And the reason the traffic had come to a standstill - some dickhead parked outside the chemist, nose to the kerb, arse sticking out a foot and a half from it. There are these stickers you can get that say Parked Like A C**t. I don't believe I've ever seen a more deserving recipient.

Christmas preparations? Made mince pies, bought and wrapped presents. Got the Christmas tree as far as the door and forgot, until just now, to give any thought to the wreath.

Feeling pretty relaxed. Received as gifts bottles of champagne and gin. This is looking like a good Christmas.

We were visited this evening by three men and a dog. Everyone thought the puppy was pretty cute, except, of course, our own dogs who either ignored her, were afraid of her or, tried to bite her.

Bad Girl Jess!

Five More Sleeps

Poor Hannah started work again at 4 am today but I got to sleep on as I was not on taxi duty. I'm on again on Thursday and Friday. Because I got the lie-in, I picked her up at 11 am and took the opportunity to do some Christmas grocery shopping. I bought one of those big square loaves that are only sold at Christmas for home made for stuffing. No ready-made for us. I even have my own sage growing in the poly tunnel.

I also bought some festive alcohol and was telling my sister this when she phoned.

I got a nice wine, some Cava and a bottle of Tia Maria.

Well - that's Christmas morning sorted then.

I thought some more about the wreath and decided where I was going to place the Christmas tree. I finished my Klimt jigsaw and thought about putting it away. I went for a walk in the woods and got rained on. Really should have worn the Drizabone.

Then I made a delicious supper of spaghetti, meatballs, and tomato sauce. There were some complaints. I was told that the meatballs tasted too much of meat. Ingrates! I made that meal from scratch too. Well, maybe not the spaghetti. It came from a packet.

Six More Sleeps

Nellybert received an unexpected Christmas gift yesterday evening and it was just as well I had my amazing, covers all eventualities, delicious chilli jam to reciprocate. Awesome on turkey sandwiches, I said. He said, how is it on beefburgers? Even more unbelievably awesome, I said.

The gift sat on the kitchen island. I'm perfectly happy to wait until Christmas Day before opening but I suspect it is biscuits. Bert says, what is it? I urge him to wait and see. He picks it up and rends a great tear in the wrapping. I pounce on it, sellotape in hand and re-wrap before he gets a chance to peek.

Did your mother allow you to open presents before Christmas?

Aye. Pearlie didn't give a fuck.

Honestly! That woman didn't have one single ounce of Christmas spirit. Apparently, they had tinned peas with their Christmas dinner. Can you imagine?

Not one thing prepared for Christmas today. I thought about the wreath. And I helped the postman. He was delivering mail on the road where I was out walking (briskly) and he asked me to put some cards in a postbox at the end of some farmer's lane. I mightn't say which road as it is, no doubt, a disciplinary matter to allow the unanointed to handle Her Majesty's mail. One other thing I did which was sort of Christmassy was get up at half-three in the morning and take Hannah to her work which she is starting particularly early because of Christmas. Home again within thirty minutes and straight back to bed. I awoke at seven from a dream where I was about to hang a raggedy, bearded man. Yesterday I was skinning my favourite cat. It's such a blessing that I am able to escape my violent and bloody nightmares.

The wrong kind of peas

The Christmas Spirit

Only a week to go! Yet today I did absolutely nothing towards Christmas preparation, not one thing. Unless... unless giving away two jars of my chilli jam whilst telling the (lucky) recipients that chilli jam enhances turkey sandwiches like nothing else on earth.

A Christmas memory from 2014 - Martha and Evie in front of the smallest Christmas tree ever which they decorated by themselves. This year's tree will be slightly bigger. Maybe it is 2014's tree grown a bit. You never know. A young fellow came up this afternoon to collect a pot-grown tree and brought his little ones with him and I had to draw on all today's Christmas spirit to cope, for I wasn't expecting the children. Such noisy little buggers and when they're not your own it's hard to bear. Sunday evening should be a quiet time for old girls, not listening to bashing on xylophones and drums and fighting over plastic tiaras. But it's the children's time of year and they are all so excited about Santa Claus.

This week I should like to sort out four more presents, get grocery shopping, decorate the tree, and make a Christmas wreath. Christmas pudding has been crossed off my list. And I'm toying with the idea of having that young rooster killed as I caught him raping his own mother today. Although I probably won't.

Tomorrow I will get up at 3:30am to take Hannah to work. How's that for Christmas spirit?

Buggeration

Buggeration indeed. Bert and I launched ourselves on Belfast city yesterday to partake of rich food and strong alcoholic drinks. Belfast was crammed with bright lights. frantic shoppers, Christmas jumpers and office parties. A body was glad to plant themselves in a seat and was prepared to tolerate drinks rounds (for four people) that cost in excess of £30. We were glad to be on the train home at 8pm. Who knows what craziness would have ensued in the hours before closing time.

At the station, thirsty Bert, went in search of bottled water. He came back waterless saying that he could not justify spending the money on plastic encased water when so many people were lying on the streets without shelter. We did donate on the journey to the station. There is something seriously wrong with this world when we spend so much on food and drink for ourselves while people lie freezing on our city streets.

Black Russian

So retro that the Belfast bartenders had to consult their wee special guide books.

https://www.cocktail.uk.com/cocktails/black-russian

Rawhide

Just caught a wee quiet moment to update my blog. Well, slightly quiet as there is a five-year-old floating about, a wee dog snarling, and a big guy sitting on my sofa performing the theme tune to 'Rawhide'. I think I can tune them out long enough to fulfill my daily blogging promise. Oh dear, the seven-year-old has just approached me asking me to mend a broken handbag. I have delegated that task to Bert. The five-year-old is screaming now.

I got the last of the presents posted to England today. As usual, there was a chatty old guy in the queue and I was enjoying his company when he was called to the counter and it turned out he wanted the post office assistant to call his telephone company and he could not be persuaded that it was not part of her role. She was very nice to him so I expect she'll call round to his house after work and do it for him there.

Tonight I am going with Hannah and Gus to an open mic night in Ballymena although  I don't think they are planning to perform 'Rawhide' unless they are expecting the audience to go a bit Blues Brothers on them.

Tomorrow Bert and I are going to Belfast for our Christmas Day Out. It will be touch and go if I get to post tomorrow.

Christmas Preparations

There are days when a person might consider themselves to be well-organised, ahead of the game, doing rightly but, as always,  chaos can never be far away.

This was such a day. Supper was prepared before midday, all that was needed to accompany it was a simple little salad. No reason why I should not be able to make a batch of chili jam, prepare butternut squash soup, rack the Summer Fruits, take a little dander around the Buttermilk Bridge, relax with my 1000 piece Klimt jigsaw, wrap some Christmas presents, pick Hannah up from work and so on...

Was just as well I prepared supper early (seriously delish lasagna since you ask) as I found myself roasting butternut, rinsing lentils (for the soup) and preparing a wrapping station for the presents. Scissors, sellotape, festive paper were all set up, as were the gifts. Hannah helped out and we were done in no time. I cleared the work surface of Christmas things, tossed up the salad, took the lasagna out of the oven and we started supper. Bert was off on an errand as he always finds something to do ten minutes before meal times. He came in soon after and helped himself.

I had barely started clearing when I noticed two unwrapped presents. Sure it wouldn't take a minute to wrap them up. Out again with the sellotape, scissors and paper. First one wrapped. Was it just the tiniest bit greasy? Never mind, second one wrapped and just as I was folding over the last corner and starting to sellotape I spotted the little shred of lettuce stuck to the gift. Oh damn. I wrapped it anyway. Who'll notice a pick of vegetable matter in the present unwrapping frenzy that is Christmas morning? It was Bert, always careless when dolloping food from bowl to plate and myself, of course, careless in my cleaning. The person who will be having salad with her Christmas gift is Miss Evie. I don't think she'll care.

A Night At The Carol Service

Have just come back from my granddaughter's carol service which was held in a nearby church.

Good - Miss Martha excelled herself in the singing department.

Not Good - Flipping teacher kept standing in front of my special child waving her arms around so I only caught glimpses of the darling.

Good - All the children sang beautifully.

Not So Good - The 'carols' sounded more like middling pop songs. I like traditional carols, such as Away In The Manger', 'Adeste Fideles' and so on but expect Latin would be too big an ask in a Presbyterian Church.

Quite Good - The church was comfortable and roomy.

Less Good - It was far too warm. I wonder did it have one of those biomass boilers that are causing such a scandal these days.

Good - We all got a Benediction at the end. You can never have enough Benedictions.

Less Good - Too much Christianity.

Not Good At All - Hardly any Paganism. Just the one Christmas Tree at the entrance.

Good - Free entry.

Not Good - At exit begging bowls brandished by little children.

Better - No pressure.

Warm For The Time of Year

The other morning I went out to feed the hens and the weather was positively balmy. There was a warm wind blowing from the south. It's not unpleasant but it does get one wondering, where will it all end?

On this day last year it was a miserable, sleety cold day. I know this because I took a picture of our wintry garden. And a few years before that a poor wee mouse drowned and froze in the greenhouse. This year no sleet, no snow, no frozen mice. I expect I should be glad but, this year, I'd love snow for Christmas.

So, there you go, twelfth post in a row and all I can manage is a bit of a chat about the weather. This is what it comes down to. Yet in Real Life I have opinions, hard opinions about Arlene Foster and Donald Trump, climate change, the alt-right and Brexit among other topics. In Real Life I swear like a sailor and have a filthy sense of humour, not like the nicey-nice me that writes Nelly's Garden. In Real Life I have daily achievements that I brag about. Why only today I made an incredible stew, edged a 1000 piece jigsaw and went for a brisk walk. I also progressed several gallons of wine. The Blackcurrant & Beetroot and the Raspberry were particularly tasty. Nelly is much more modest than I. In Real Life I am obsessed with my daily poo but we won't even go there. In Real Life I sing funny made-up songs to my grandchildren, my husband, my dogs and my chickens. And my cats. They all love them (except the cats) but I'm too shy to share and I worry that my silly songs may not be as funny as I think they are. In Real Life I am fiercely proud of my three daughters but I rarely bring that to the garden. In Real Life I am an atheist but I won't speak of it here for I know many of my on-line friends have faith. In real life I am a hard-working, naturally lazy sod who has no money, loves being retired and has never been happier in her life.

Little wonder this blog is so boring.