Making Slow Progress

I will soon be giving an account of my September reading and it will not take long. There will also be a format change. As I have written before I generally keep many books in my reading pile, usually around twelve as this number seems manageable. In September that number hovered around 14-15. 

I won't be photographing the 12 this month or ever again. That is because I feel a little bit disappointed that some books seem never to make their way out of the pile. There is one in there that I bought with last year's birthday book tokens and another that I found in a Sue Ryder in Fakenham when I was on my last visit to the Norfolk branch of the family. Those two are still on the go.

You see where I'm going with this?  The books that languish in my reading pile say far more about me than I want known.

Anyway, here are some of the books that I've been reading this past while. 

Eleven of them are yet to be finished and there is one other that I got fed up with and decided not to finish. Clue: It's on the top row.

One From Ten Years Ago

 

Fun With Cardboard

I have had the pleasure this weekend of the company of all my children and grandchildren. Yes folks - my darling Katkin and her husband are visiting from Norfolk. It's a whole year since I've seen her. Tomorrow we are going to Derry. There will be photographs. Until then here are some photographs.

What ever can Aunt Katy be pushing in the NinkyNonk? Dave knows but Jess doesn't.

My word! Small children. Someone needs to inform the Health and Safety Executive without delay.

Martha might be deciding that all she wants for Christmas this year is a selection of large cardboard boxes. Who needs toys?

Birthday

 

When a young woman hits her mid-teens (getting so old) she may not be just as excited about birthday cake as she once was. But that's OK. When you've experienced many birthdays, you can be excused for feeling a certain ennui.

Anyway - Happy Birthday, Martha!

PS - those photos were taken two days before her birthday. Today's the day.

An Update

Well, I was wrong. According to those Amazon people in the USA I did accidentally set up a Prime account in America. Set it up, never used it even once and then got billed for almost four years.

I spent more than three hours on Friday with Amazon.com and had interactions with four different reps.

The first seemed very pleasant (I wondered if she was AI) and after I explained myself she offered to cancel my sum and give me one month's refund which I declined.

The second advisor was also pleasant and again I wondered if he was AI. He did ask why it had taken me so long to complain. I continued to make my case and was offered two month's refund which I declined.

The third advisor spent around 10 minutes perusing the previous exchanges and passed me on to number four. 

There was quite a bit of waiting time for me during these exchanges which I spent cleaning my bookshelves.

Number 4 advisor, Priya (I visualised Leonard's girlfriend in The Big Bang Theory seemed like a human being. Priya was able to tell me when the American Prime had been applied for. I wish now I'd asked what was streamed because that would have given me some clue as to whether I had ordered it or someone else. Eventually, she offered me a year's refund. I was tempted. I answered as follows,

I got the two years which would have covered the period that Amazon sneakily got my new card details without my knowledge. I did wonder if I should have held out for the full amount but was exhausted with all the bargaining and bookcase cleaning and it was getting late. I also worried that I might have ended up with nothing. As the saying goes, half a loaf is better than no bread.

The next day 24 separate payment of $14.99 went pinging into my bank account. Music to my ears.

And as promised, Amazon business practices suck but the customer service part is pretty good.

Prime Idiocy

A confession. It took three attempts and many years for me to get to grips with online banking. During that time I was without paper statements so was never completely sure how my balance stood. I’d check it a few times a month at the ATM and sometimes I’d print out a mini statement.

So, when I finally got online with the bank I was jolly pleased and the first thing I did was check on my regular outgoings, you know, phone bill, charity subs, streaming services – that kind of thing. And the first thing I noticed was that I appeared to be paying for Amazon Prime twice!

A regular payment of £8.99 was going out on the 25^th of the month and a few days ahead of that another sum was also coming out of my account. It was never the exact amount, varied from month to month – always around £12. I couldn’t figure it out so contacted Amazon.

And it turned out they had no record of it. I was advised to contact my bank. The next day was Tuesday and I was too busy doing cakes and family meals. The day after that I was in to the bank to find out what’s what. And what it was – was that the bank closed on Wednesdays.

First thing today I was in there and met a very helpful young woman who looked into the situation. I was paying for two subscriptions but the extra one, the one I couldn’t understand was in the USA! Apparently Amazon Prime costs $14.99 in the States which is why my sterling withdrawals fluctuated from month to month.

I was relieved that whatever had happened wasn’t my fault, that I hadn’t accidentally set up an extra account in America. But still,  a shame not to have noticed it before now as it turns out I’ve been paying for another person’s Prime Video subscription for nearly four years.

As I said to the woman in the bank, God I hope it wasn’t a Trump supporter!

She agreed that it would be sickening if it was.

Now I’ve got to see if Amazon in the UK can sort this out for me. I am not sure if I’ll ever recover the money but I suppose I’ll have to try and claim something from somebody. Apparently, according to an article I read today, I should also contact the FBI although that seems pretty intense. Also overkill. And probably pointless.

Birthday Cake

It's sad if the birthday girl has to make her own cake, so I asked Bert to do it. All I had to do was choose the recipe, buy the ingredients, set everything out for him and go take a Duolingo lesson or three. 

I forgot to photograph the cake but the Hummingbird Bakery Cake Days book has a very nice picture which is almost exactly how Bert's cake turned out. 

It was yummy although the baker himself said,

Too much frosting and far too sweet.

Cleo had no complaints. Again no photograph, but if I had grabbed my camera when I caught her on the table snarfing my cake I could have captioned it, 

Le chien est sur la table et elle mange mon gateau !

Thats about my level in French. It might be a while before I can tackle that French translation of Apeirogon.

Birthday Present

As a birthday present to myself I finally got around to sorting out online banking - hopefully third time lucky. I was ever so thrilled about it, especially as the lovely person in Halifax wished me a Happy Birthday when she was checking my details. 

I was somewhat less thrilled when I got home, logged on and found that I am paying a monthly sub to Amazon Prime and another one! I cannot get to the bottom of it despite contacting Amazon Customer Service which is probably a bot.

After getting online banking I thought  I'd never have to go into the actual bank ever again but now it looks like I'll be back on Wednesday to see if they can enlighten me about the double Prime payment. 

Another thing about online banking is that there seem to be mysterious outlets where I spend shed loads of money. One was THEFIRTRE where, in recent weeks,  I appear to have splashed out £106 and some pence. I'm pretty certain I wasn't out the door on that particular day so it was concerning. My banking app can tell me what kind of outlet THEFIRTRE was and, according to it, this is misc food store, conv store, market, speciality store and vending machines and as Google Maps would have it, situated under the railway bridge on the Galgorm Road in Ballymena. I imagined some vast emporium selling everything from speciality cheeses to vintage delpht and I definitely couldn't remember being anywhere like that, never mind spending over a hundred quid in it.

Eventually, it dawned upon me. Google Maps had it wrong. It wasn't Ballymena - it was a tiny petrol station on the road to Kilrea and I'd given Bert my card to fill the Jeep. Of course, he'd bought sweets and biscuits as well, so little wonder he'd spent so much.

This is why, from now on, I must start using this blog as an aide memoire/diary even if that means it becomes a little tedious for you, Dear Reader. I may even have to give it a new title. Nelly's Garden may become Nelly's Decline. 

Anyway, here's a photograph to cheer us all up.

Did I mention it's my birthday?

The Twelve, September 2024

 

While my actual reading slowed down in August, my book purchasing surged. I may have bought three times more books than those I finished reading.

The three books read were, in order of the pleasure given,

Let The Great World Spin by Colum McCann. I found my copy in the charity bookshelves in Tesco. I enjoyed it immensely, so much so that on the morning I read the last page I went straight online and ordered Apeirogon from World of Books. It arrived on Saturday. Sadly it was a French translation and despite me spending far too many hours on Duolingo* my French isn't up to it. World of Books is sorting it out for me. I will get another copy and get to keep the French one. 

My second favourite was As You Were by Elaine Feeney. While I was reading it I felt less than impressed, yet I've been thinking about it ever since. One to read again.

The third book which I read quickly was Gordon by Edith Templeton. The novel was referred to in a recent Guardian article and I had an unread copy on my shelves. Shall we say it was interesting?  I shall be recommending the Colum McCann to all my family and friends who enjoy reading but not the Templeton. 

Here's hoping for more reading this month. The Percival Everett is yet to be started and I'm really looking forward to it. 

 *I joined just over a month ago. It keeps me off the wine.

The Oldest Blogger

This blog, Nelly’s Garden is twenty years old today. Back when I started I believed I was the Oldest Blogger in the village and maybe I was. Two decades later I’m certain sure I’m the oldest blogger in Cully and maybe even the only one – for blogging is not what it used to be.

So, how did I spend my blog's big day? Quietly. My only outing was to the pharmacy to collect my meds. The rest of the day I spent tootling around the house and garden. There was one big excitement – a blue butterfly on the borage.

This year has been terrible for butterflies and moths. Usually, in August, we see lots of Red Admirals, Small Tortoiseshells and Peacocks. The month is nearly gone and I haven’t spotted one of those. A few whites and browns but that was that. So the blue one caused quite a stir. I’ve never seen one in our garden before. It was difficult to get a good photo ID as it flew quickly and kept its wings folded when it fed. But it was lovely in flight, almost as if some of the borage petals had taken wing.

I'm not sure which of the blues this is. I think maybe Holly Blue?

Other pictures taken after I got tired of chasing my solitary butterfly visitor.

New Zealand flax grown by me from seed collected in Fanad, Donegal. It might be a pest in the Antipodes but to me it is exotic. Sadly no starlings but they will come.

My new wine-coloured hydrangea. I bought it from Ben Vista and it cost me the price of a couple of decent bottles of wine (or three from Tescos). I treated myself to it as I'm currently taking a break from alcohol. 

And that concludes Nelly's twentieth birthday post.

Thanks for reading!

One From Eighteen Years Ago

 

Hunting The Rhubarb

Yesterday was Kerry Sister's mumbly-mumbleth birthday. As her birthday was almost totally forgotten last year we decided to mark the occasion with a Rhubarb Hunt. I told them I'd found rhubarb growing in the moss but no one believed me. So I led an expedition to prove that I was right.

The Kerry Sister and the Leitrim Sister on the hunt for The Rhubarb. The Kerry Sister is kicking spoor for clues. The Leitrim Sister prefers to sniff the air for that elusive Rhubarb scent.

The Rhubarb has been spotted! Leitrim Sister says it is a lot of bollocks and that it is False Rhubarb.

The Rhubarb

Bert is horticulturally highly qualified and he thinks it is Rhubarb. It looks like, smells like, tastes like, and smokes like Rhubarb.

Macy prefers to wallow in a moss hole.

The Mystery Solved

Rhubarb growing in Drumkeeran Moss remained a puzzle until, six years later, I met Bobby.

Bobby was Lord O'Neill's man on the ground, the mossy ground, to be precise. The day I met him he was admiring a patch of narcissi that he'd planted the previous autumn. He told me that his wife was throwing the bulbs out so he thought he'd plant them in the moss to see how they'd do. Now, as far as I know, he just got the one year out of them as I never saw them again. I did ask him If he'd ever tried rhubarb and he said he had but it hadn't made much of a plant. The mystery solved!

Teach Your Grandma

 How do I know that my two oldest grandchildren are growing up fast?

1. They have to bend down to give me a goodbye hug.

2. The younger one showed me a far better way to put a fresh duvet cover on.

3. They are house-sitting for Nellybert on Saturday night while we are visiting Doctor Dede and Dmitri in Leitrim.

Re number 3. I might have slight reservations about this, as I had dreamed this morning that an acquaintance of ours had brought Gary Glitter to visit us. In this dream, I was very pleasant to the predator until it dawned on me who he was. Then I was horrified for two reasons. The first was that my siblings (especially Gan) would be disgusted with me; the second was that my older granddaughter was upstairs. I ran to warn her then I came to my senses and ordered the fiend and my now ex-acquaintance out of the house never to darken my door again.

I learned something from this dream  This acquaintance cannot be trusted. I may ban him anyway. It's what my subconscious wants me to do.

One more thing -  no need to worry about the young ones house-sitting on Saturday night as there will be a fierce Aunt and an even fiercer dog on-site at all times.

Fierce dog. Remember, appearances can be deceptive.

Upcoming Anniversaries

On the 16th August, Bert and I will have been legally married for 16 years. 

I wrote this post the week before our big day.

The fellows on the site are threatening to give me a 'doing' tomorrow. For those who might not know a 'doing' is a form of ritual humiliation visited upon a person who is about to embrace the matrimonial state. It can involve flour, water, balloons, bondage and a host of other embarrassments.

Obviously, I've informed them that under no circumstances need they dare come near me. After all, I am old enough to be their mother and it would be most undignified. I have cited Health & Safety regulations, the wrongness of wasting their employer's time and the promise that if one of them lays as much as a finger on me I'll be bringing charges of sexual harassment and assault.

I think they've got the message.

On the 27th of August this blog, Nelly's Garden will be twenty years old.

This was my first post.

I've been threatening to do this for some time now so while speaking to daughter one on the phone tonight I said "Tell me daughter, what shall I do?" She said "Go to Blogger." So I did and several moments later here I am writing my first post.

So shall I introduce myself? I am old enough to have three daughters all left home. I live in the country. I like flowers & dogs (among other things) I work in the 'caring professions' and I spend far too much time on computers.

Blogs are a recent thing with me. Daughter one has been doing it for a year and I've been pondering it for 6 months. Where it will take me I know not.

Then, on an unspecified date near the end of this month, the First Daughter celebrate her half-century. And it only seems like a week or two since she was 40. Where does time go??

There were no blogs back in 1974. No mobile phones, no laptops or internet. I may have written something in a diary. I don't believe she even had her photograph taken until quite a few days later. 

As you can see, I was very pleased with her.

And I still am.

Belfast

I have been getting out and about recently and have used my rail card three times in nine days. 

My first outing was to Portrush with Bert, Hannah and the girls. That would be the annual trip to Barry's Amusements, which is now known as Curry's Amusements. As Martha and Evie are now taller than everyone except Bert they no longer go on the tamer rides. Instead, it is all the scary ones like The Beast and The Waltzer. They may have gone on The Beast five times. 

Of course, Bert and I refused to go on anything as we don't like having our bones shaken about. Instead, we strolled around Portrush like the oldsters we are and looked after the incredibly well-behaved Chico for Hannah. It was, while doing this, that we decided that it was time to lead-train Cleo so that she too could enjoy excursions to the Port. She is, after all, more than 15 months old.

The girls and Chico

My second train journey was a jaunt to Belfast with Vee. We went to the Botanic Gardens to visit the Palm House, the Tropical Ravine, the Medicine Garden and the Museum. It was an enjoyable outing, especially as Vee had never been there before. My favourite parts were the Medicinal Garden (which is new) and the Carravaggios, which are currently on display at the Museum.

Then today, Bert and I took the train to Belfast to visit Smithfield and St George's Market. I knew there was to be an anti-immigration (racist and anti-Islam) protest but did not really expect it to amount to much. But on our way back from Smithfield we found ourselves amid the protest. There were protestors flying  British, Irish and Israeli flags at the top of Royal Avenue. There didn't seem like that many people and most of them seemed to be onlookers. There was a long line of PSNI land-rovers parked bumper to bumper across the road, each with at least one officer in riot gear standing beside them. On the far side of the police vehicles were the counter-protestors. We went to that side.  Both sides were chanting at the other with the counter-protestors making the most noise. There were more of them. Yet, they seemed less threatening. Maybe that was because I agreed with their stance.  

After all that we headed in the direction of St George's Market. I re-upped my Cordyceps Tincture at Spore Shore and we had a coffee and a delicious (shared) brownie. We were joined at our table by a lovely woman who asked us what was happening in town. She was waiting for her daughter to collect her and was concerned that there would be disruptions. We chatted. Our companion was an artist, of Armenian descent and had been born in Haifa. Her family had suffered turmoil both in Israel and Cyprus. I wish we could have spoken to her longer but there was a train to catch. I could not help but think that if the Irish people who are so nationalistic and anti-immigration had any idea how lucky they are to live here at this time of relative stability we might have more compassion for those who have had to uproot their lives and go elsewhere.

Back home I heard that things had turned ugly in Belfast when the anti-immigration crowd headed to South Belfast to protest outside the Belfast Islamic Centre. On the way a Turkish Cafe was attacked, windows broken, outdoor furniture smashed to pieces. Vee and I had walked past both places on Wednesday. I was telling her how much I loved the diversity of the area never dreaming that a couple of days later both places would be attacked. At the time of writing I don't know what will have happened other than that the mosque is under police protection.

Anyone who visits this house in the coming weeks had better not utter one word of support for the racists or they might find the welcome mat pulled from right under their expensive trainers.  

The Twelve, August 2024

 

Five books were completed in July.

Remote Sympathy by Catherine Chidgey

This was incredibly good,  and I'd recommend it. I passed it to Bert after I'd read it.

How They Broke Britain by James O'Brien

If you know James, you know James. He was hard on  Jeremy Corbyn who must have found himself in unholy company.

Animal Dreams by Barbara Kingsolver

I enjoyed this less than other books by Kingsolver.  The heroine was more than slightly annoying. Still, I did learn a lot about Mojave culture.

The Story of Lucy Gault by William Trevor

Lucy Gault reminded me, a little, of Elsie Dinsmore with her scrupulousity and pig-headedness. Thankfully William Trevor is a much better writer than Elsie's creator, so I enjoyed Lucy's story very much. Passed it to Hannah.

10 Minutes 38 Seconds In This Strange World by Elif Shafak

At first, I wondered if I could get into a novel that introduced its main character, a prostitute dumped in a trash can, after she had been murdered. It might have been brutal but it was marvellous. It's my first book by Shafak but it won't be the last. Passed on to Hannah.

Incidentally, it was the cover of 10 Minutes that first appealed. Which just goes to show that covers do matter.If it is done right even the blurb can be part of the design.

Books added to The Twelve. 

Let The Great World Spin by Colum McCann

The Secret Scripture by Sebastian Barry

The Great Fire by Shirley Hazzard

The Emigrants By W.G. Sebald

The Colony by Audrey Magee

Of these, I expect to enjoy McCann, am already irritated by some of the characters in The Colony which may well be the point.

One From 13 Years Ago

 So this is what I was up to 13 years ago today! I've returned several times since then. But really, I should go every year as long as I'm fit, especially now that I can travel there for free. 

A Visit To Rathlin

For many years now I've been meaning to visit Rathlin Island. But somehow the months slipped away and it was winter and then I'd have to defer it for another year.

But this year I was determined to get there. Swisser was up at the weekend and I asked her to come with me. She had been many times before but was more than happy to go again.

We went over on the old ferry. There weren't that many people on it and I'd say about half of them were members of the PSNI. Swisser and I were intrigued. We wondered if there was a serious crime wave on the island and the police were going in mob-handed to sort it out. There was a Massey Ferguson tractor and bush-whacker on board as well as the police Land Rover and an unaccompanied trailer load of building blocks. When we got to the island the crew asked the police to take the trailer off the boat and they happily obliged. It looked odd to see a police vehicle hauling building materials but Rathlin seems to be that sort of place. People just do what has to be done.

We set off walking to visit the RSPB bird sanctuary. It was a fair walk on a hot day but glorious. There is no intensive agriculture on the island and consequently the meadows and verges are teeming with the flowers and wildlife that I remember from fifty years ago. We saw harebells, wild angelica, meadowsweet, a variety of thyme and all the meadow grasses and flowers that are rarely seen at home.

I enjoyed the reserve. Although there were lots of other visitors the ambience was pretty wonderful. Just people of all ages delighting in the spectacular views of the colonies of birds. We saw guillemots, razorbills, fulmars, puffins, cormorants and many other seabirds. The guides were helpful and informative. I'd recommend this to anyone with even the slightest interest in wildlife.

Of course by this time my big silly face was as red as a tomato from the sun, so we decided to take the Puffin bus back to the harbour. That too was an experience. The driver was packing punctured bicycles into the back compartment, rescuing cyclists, everyone who got on had to clamber over a dog called Theo and no one minded and meanwhile the Puffin driver had us all in stitches with his banter and nonsense. He gave a running commentary of the history of the island and a bit of current affairs as well. We got dropped off at a little bay where grey seals were enjoying the sun at the edge of the water.

We weren't the only ones either. I'm sure there must have been twenty other people, most of them children, observing the seals. The animals did not seem too perturbed. I got the impression they are well used to it.

We never did find out exactly what the police were up to (even though we asked them) but I don't think it involved anything worrying for they all looked pretty happy and were enjoying the views, taking photographs of each other and they seemed to like the bird sanctuary. It will ever remain one of life's mysteries for me.

We took the new fast ferry back which was smooth and speedy but not nearly as much fun as heading over with tractors, trailers and the polis.

I can't wait to return to explore the rest of the island although I'll be lucky ever to hit on such a beautiful, beautiful day.

And I can't believe I waited so long to visit somewhere practically on my doorstep yet one of the locals told me that there are many people in Ballycastle who have never visited the island. Imagine!

Third Generation, Boy One

Our family, the one Seamus and Matty started, is big on girls, and short on boys. The parents had five daughters, two sons, six granddaughters, two grandsons and, so far, eight great-granddaughters and three great-grandsons. That works out at three times as many girls. 

The story goes (probably made up) that Seamus and Matty wanted two of each. And started off with two girls. Time for the boys. First another girl. Then along came Eamon, blessed with three older sisters. Matty and Seamus press on for the boy, two more girls, then came Joseph, blessed with five older sisters, lucky boy.

The next generation consisted of six girls and two boys and three of those girls were mine. The generation after that, eight girls and three boys. Boy one in that generation is James, my only beautiful grandson who is nine years old today. 

Happy birthday James, we love you dearly.

Both pictures featuring James taken by Zoe.

Long-eared Owls

There are many things I could write about this evening. There always is, despite me being in the twilight of my years. And being in the twilight of one's years means that one finds oneself having many funerals to attend as one's peers are, as daughter one exclaimed, 'dropping like flies'.

There was a first this week, two funerals in one day. J died last Thursday, and the funeral was to be the following Tuesday. A lovely person, when she was well a frequent visitor to our home, always a lady. She had been unwell for a long time. Then on Sunday the news that R had died. We'd known him for decades, me first for when I met R, Bert would still have been at school.

His funeral was also planned for Tuesday. Both services would be held at the same funeral parlour two hours apart. The first service (R) was non-religious, a first for me. Likely a first for many who attended, as our part of the world still clings to the notion that funerals must involve a minister, priest or pastor. Awkward when the recently departed has had no truck with religion. R had the courage of his convictions and dispensed with all that. 

I'm sure I was not the only one there who was heartened by his send-off. And encouraged. I could not help but think that anyone there who did not actually know the man would have been left wishing that they had.

J's service was more traditional, which was fitting as she was a person of faith. And funerals are deeply personal, both for the departed and those that remain.

Then today, I heard of another approach, a person who chose not to have a funeral. Again, their personal choice. Hard though, on those left behind, without that closure. 

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Bert's going to a wedding on Saturday. I was asked too, despite having requested to be excused. I declined, Bert will go for both of us and I will drive him there, and may well have to collect him too.

When I made my excuses to the groom he said,

No pressure. Whatever suits you. But, seeing as you're not going would you be OK looking after our dogs?

What could I say? Yes, no bother at all.

Tonight, after the funerals, before the wedding, I delighted myself by going outside and noting all the different areas where young long-eared owls were calling for food. There were at least four of them, some only yards from our door. That's the joy of living surrounded by trees.

My Lord Bertram

Bert and I watched a silly and enjoyable show on Amazon Prime, My Lady Jane. It's set in Tudor England and is an alternative historical drama featuring the Nine Days Queen, Lady Jane Grey. It also features shapeshifters. In My Lady Jane, almost every other person can become an animal at will. Always the same animal which is unfortunate if one is only a tiny mouse or an insect but rather useful if one is a large brown bear.

One important character becomes a horse. For some unexplained reason, he cannot change at will but transforms into equine form at dawn, becoming human again as night falls. 

When we'd finished watching the show I said to Bert,

I'd love you to be like him - the horse guy.

He said,

Because he's so good-looking and fit?

No, not that. It would be great if you could turn into a horse every morning and gallop around the fields all day, just stopping to eat grass. Then when it got dark you'd be you again and we could eat dinner and settle down to watch something silly together. I'd love that. You'd be out from underneath my feet all day and we'd save a fortune on groceries. 

The Twelve, July 2024

 

Another six books have been completed since I last posted.

Two by Tana French, The Secret Place and The Likeness. They were enjoyable although both were far too clever for their own good. As crime fiction should be. I think that itch has been dealt with for a while although I do have a Denise Mina waiting in the wings.

And speaking of crime - I'll Be Gone  In The Dark by Michelle McNamara, a true account of the search for a serial rapist and killer in California. I liked it. Very well written. McNamara died before it was published and I found myself more interested in her than the killer who, like most of his ilk, was mediocre and underwhelming.

I raced through Pet. Five stars. I want to read everything Catherine Chidgey has written and I am grateful to my Irish/Kiwi cousin for the recommendation.

Then I completed reading According to Queeney by Beryl Bainbridge. It didn't grip me as much as some of Bainbridge's other books. Still a decent read. And, at times, bloody comical. I shall read it again when I'm eighty.

I picked up a copy of The Seventh Son by Sebastian Faulks somewhere last week. Tesco charity bookshelves, Oxfam? Cannot remember. Read it in four days. (Remember I'm also reading eleven other books concurrently.) Could not put it down. There were some of the same themes as Human Traces but it was much more accessible. An exhilarating and enjoyable read that left me thinking about what it is to be a human being. I loved it.

Not reading but I did start listening to All Quiet On The Western Front. I will never be able to gather strawberries again without recalling the suffering of horses on the battlefield. I know the men suffered too but there must be something less harrowing to listen to whilst gardening. 

Dealing With The Past

A post from 13 years ago.

IDLE THOUGHTS

The alarm goes off at 7am and I hit the snooze button.

7:05am RINGGG! I'm wondering what to do about the vintage Orange Order collarette in the attic. I hit the snooze button.

7:10am RINGGG! Trying to figure out the names of Adam Lambsbreath's cows in Cold Comfort Farm. Let me see - there's Pointless, Aimless, Feckless and what is the other one called? I hit the snooze button.

7:15am RINGGG! Pondering the minister's reading at yesterday's funeral service. Dorcas/Tabitha. Would those be good names for girl twins? Technically they are the same name just as Zoe and Eve are. I hit the snooze button.

7:20am RINGGGG!!!! There's this clairvoyant in Randalstown I'm going to later. She channels through an eel. Holy shit! I'm dreaming! Time to get up.

An unpublished one from 9 years ago

Every couple of years I clear the attic but this clearing has to the best one yet. I do have sticking places. Anything that came from Matty's house and all that old loyal orders paraphernalia that belonged to Bert's uncles. What happened to Johnny's stuff? He must have returned it to the lodge when it was dissolved. Uncle Andy died in harness or should that be in collarette?

Banjo Man came in and I was telling him about my efforts to declutter,

I don't know what I'm going to do with all that old loyal orders stuff.

Would somebody not want it? The lodge maybe, part of their history?

All those lodges are no more.

What about Ploppy Pants?

Not his thing. He's independent.

Doesn't seem right to throw it out. I know its not our culture but...

I know. Showing respect and all that..

Or...

What?

You could just burn it.

The Present Day

So what did I do? I packed up Andy's white gloves, apron and collarette and donated them to a charity shop in Harryville. The lady in charge was delighted as she had a customer who collected that kind of memorabilia.

Showing respect and all that. We still have several framed certificates in the attic. They are rather large and the frames are in poor condition. I expect we'll leave them for the next generation to worry about.