Saturday, June 23, 2007

Normal service will be resumed ...

when we get back from our jolly jaunt around England.

We've been forecast traditional British summer weather so we're thinking of stopping en route to buy a thermos so we can sit in the car, drinking tea, looking at the view through the rain-splattered windscreen.

I'll be back a week Tuesday, so I hope to see you then. Have a good week.

Saturday Photohunt - Shiny

Come Sunday, this shiny object will have been on my finger for 29 years, without ever coming off.

I'm afraid I'm not gong to be able to do much visiting this Photohunt as we're off on holiday tomorrow and I'm a little behind. (Well, I've a big behind actually.) I'll miss next week's but I'll be back for the following Photohunt. See you then.

Friday, June 22, 2007

Rainy days and Fridays

It's a wet grey day here today reminding me of what was probably the most depressing wedding I ever attended.

It was wet summer's day then, and the wedding ceremony was held in an open-sided tent on the lawn of an hotel. In my sleeveless summer dress, with the wind whipping through the tent, my goose-pimples had goose-pimples.

The couple had written their own vows, which included the promise to try and stay friends should they split up. Not a hopeful way to start married life.

But the best bit (or worst) came in the reception. That was indoors in a small dark room that, with the rain outside and the crowd inside, was humid and muggy. The waiter, who was serving the main course of chicken in a sauce, was just putting mine on my plate when a drip of sweat rolled down his nose and dripped off the end, right into the serving dish of chicken.
I don't think anyone else noticed and - as I'd had mine! - and I was worried that he might get sacked, I didn't say anything. Do you think I should have done?!

My classification is ...

What's My Blog Rated? From Mingle2 - Online Dating

Thanks to Jams for this link.

Fellow bloggers ...

have a lot to answer for!

I saw a youtube video on Welshcakes's blog and that reminded me that I wanted to look for a Victoria Wood video. I couldn't find the bit I wanted but came across the one below and that made me laugh so there it is.

Then I went to Serena's blog and found the 'What will your famous last words be?' quiz and was so amused by the result, I had to blog it here. On the plus side, I didn't start doing every quiz listed in the sidebar, which is what usually happens when I go there.

I just have to find out what colour my inner child is, what my Simpson's character is, what song I should strip to, and which great artist should have painted my portrait. I mean, you've just got to know these things, haven't you?

Thursday, June 21, 2007

What will your last words be?

Your Famous Last Words Will Be:

"Nice doggy."

Victoria Wood and Julie Walters

On the town

Husband is away and I have a date tonight!

Husband is okay about it: he is says he is now owed a date with a floozie.

I'm going to the theatre with Derek, my crazy writing buddy, to the Play-offs. Local writers submit short plays and some are performed at the Play-offs, where the audience get to vote for their favourite (who then goes to the finals later in the year).

Derek and I have been planning a joint play-writing project for months so maybe this will help get us moving.

I hope there'll be chocolate on sale as I'll be going straight from circuits again. After the now-traditional wipe-down with a wet lettuce.

Wednesday, June 20, 2007

June is bursting out

The view from our kitchen side window: the mock orange is in full bloom.

When I was a little girl my mum planted a mock orange bush in our then garden. She said, 'You can carry that when you get married.'
She died before I was married - three years before I even met Husband - but I had some of the blossom incorporated into my bouquet.

Tuesday, June 19, 2007

I just fell out of an airship!

My alter-ego has been to SL, to visit Last Ditch's mansion where the Blogpower award ceremony will be.

I was doing fine, until I started talking to Ruthie about Little C and shoes. Then I fell out of the airship.

But I'll be back. If I can work out how to get in again.

Dogs and devils

Harvey is feeling a little better today and he thanks everyone for their kind wishes. Mum says he's certainly barking better.
Because of his back leg problems we've put bits of carpets all over our lovely wooden kitchen floor. The things we do for dogs.
Dog, n. A kind of additional or subsidiary Deity designed to catch the overflow and surplus of the world's worship. This Divine Being in some of his smaller and silkier incarnations, takes, in the affection of Woman, the place to which there is no human male aspirant.
From The Devil's Dictionary by Ambrose Bierce.
I wouldn't argue with that except to except to query the specification of small and silky; in my experience dogs of every shape and degree of silkiness hold the highest place in Woman's regard.
P.S. I read about the Devil's Dictionary on Russian Wolfhound's blog. I'd never heard of this exceptional little book before. It was first published in 1911, written by a man described as 'a Yankee Oscar Wilde'.
Alliance, n. In international politics, the union of two thieves who have their hands so deeply inserted in each other's pocket that they cannot separately plunder a third.
Immigrant, n. An unenlightened person who thinks one country better than another.

Monday, June 18, 2007

Father's food

As Younger Son was away all weekend, and the other two live far away, it fell to me to look after Husband on father's Day. For dinner he had smoked salmon and cream cheese roll-type things, followed by crown roast of lamb with apricot stuffing, new potatoes roasted in olive oil and sprinkled with salt, broccoli and carrots. And very nice it was even if I say so myself.
There was red fruit salad for pudding but he was too full (especially as he'd eaten half a box of Lindt truffles). (But I enjoyed some with strawberry cheesecake ice cream.)
Diet begins again today. Definitely.

Happy Father's day!

Husband - probably the best dad in the world - and his dad.

Father's Day

Last Sunday I was part of the team taking the services in prison. In the run-up to Father's Day we were looking at difficult father-child relationships.

A few years ago I was asked to write something for the Father's day service in church. Now I never knew my father so I wasn't really the best person to ask, but i wrote something that reflected that. I read it in prison last week, and thought it would be good to publish here as well. I shall probably get our old friend, Anonymous, accusing me of being a 'miserable so'n'so' again but I hope others will view it more positively.

I can call him Lord, God, faithful one, saviour, creator, anything, except Father. I can’t call him that.

I never knew my father. He disappeared before I was born. I can only assume he didn't think I’d be good enough to make hanging around worthwhile.
When you’ve never known a father, it’s hard to accept a father’s love. When all you have is an empty space how can you relate to one others call father?
All the parables, all the stories in the world, don’t make it real, can’t fill a void, make known the unknown. You can say, ‘Our father, who art in heaven,’ without feeling a word of it.
And yet.

Most of my life, I’ve lived a half life. But now, I is becoming me. I’m learning how to uncover the person I was created to be.
Through my words, written and read, I’m discovering who I am. My writing is an extension of me, it makes me whole
Through it my thoughts are given shape and substance. I have something worth saying, something worth hearing.
Through my writing I can view myself as valuable, worthy, not because I write or because of what I write but, by its very being, my writing earths my existence. My words are as much part of me as my eyes or my toes. Before finding them, I was missing an element as vital to my well-being as calcium is to my bones.
Releasing them allows me to be me, wholly me.

And the key to that release has been meeting God, being accepted into his family.
So I live in that new life, no longer a fatherless child. Instead one whose family has demonstrated a father’s love and allowed me to experiment, learn, develop and build confidence without fear of being knocked back.

I used to think that growing up without a father was my loss but maybe it was his.
I still can’t call God Father but one day, when we meet, it’ll be the only word I’ll need.

Sunday, June 17, 2007

In which Harvey is not happy

We took Harvey to the vet today. For the last 36 hours he's been alternately pacing the floor and sleeping, and he's not happy.

The vet wasn't very happy either. He didn't seem to think much of our description of the symptoms. But you just know when your dog's not happy.

He was a new vet who hasn't seen Harvey before so he just told us all the things we already knew about his condition; he didn't seem to think there was any extra problem.

When we left the vet I grumbled but Husband said it was he'd been expecting. He only agreed to the trip to placate me.

Well, we'll see how Harvs gets on.

Thursday, June 14, 2007

Cleaned to death

Following on from my earlier post, Daughter and I were talking about death.

I hope my death is sudden and quick. I don't do brave. Were I to suffer a long painful illness I would be such a whimpering, sorry-for-myself, miserable, coward, that when my death did come, I'd have no friends left to attend my funeral.

So, assuming my end is quick, I started thinking about cleaning, which is what I am supposed to be doing right now. Just imagine if I dropped dead after I'd spent a day cleaning: what a waste that would be.
'How did she spend her last hours?'

Then again, at least the house would be clean if anyone called in to offer their condolences. They would go away with a good impression of me. Would anyone be fooled though? Not the dedicated cleaners who'd have seen the dust on the skirting and the fingermarks on the windows.

No, so perhaps I shouldn't do any more cleaning in case I die today.

I forgot to say

When I got home from the prayer meeting, I ate half a French stick, a lump of cheese and a packet of crisps. Sometimes dieting doesn't seem so important.

Although the crisps were Go Ahead low-fat. Low fattish.

Well, God, what are you going to do?

Last night, straight after circuit training, I went to a prayer meeting. (Well, I did call in the house first for a quick wipe-down with a wet lettuce and a squirt of perfume.) We were praying for a friend who has just been diagnosed with an aggressive and advanced form of breast cancer.

Now I have a problem here.

I have no trouble believing that God can heal; I just doubt if he will. My experience over the last ten years or so has been that, no matter how much earnest prayer goes in, death is the result.

There are plenty of pat Christian answers to this. God does answer your prayers but he doesn't necessarily give you the answer you want. He did answer: he said no. God sees the bigger picture. It's all part of his plan.


We hear about miracles - really obvious miracles like the blind seeing - happening all over the world today; I would love to see that sort of instant miracle. But then again I suspect, within weeks, I would be like Peter or Thomas the Doubter, who spent years with Jesus, seeing amazing things, and yet still they denied and doubted and wondered the truth.

There are so many things I don't understand, I will never understand, and yes, I'm angry at the moment. But I continue to ask God for that miracle. I will cling on, even if it's by my fingertips, to the only one who can be trusted completely.

Sicilian rules!

Big BIGcongratulations to Welshcakes who has won three - yes, that's THREE - categories in the Blogpower awards. And very well deserved too!

Congrats to all the winners and runner-up (including me who came 3rd in Prettiest or Tastiest blog category). Lots of thanks to everyone who voted once - or more! - for me.

There's to be an awards ceremony on July 1st out in cyber-space. I shall have to wear my ball gown. If I can work out how to get there.

Wednesday, June 13, 2007

Blogpower awards

Please go here then go to category 17, Prettiest or Tastiest Blog, and vote for Sicily Scene.

If you haven't read her before, do go along and be entertained by just about the best blogger I know. She left Wales to live in Sicily and her tales of that country are wonderful: they've made me want to visit! She should be employed by the Sicily Tourist Board!

But more than that, Welshcakes Limoncello can make you laugh or cry with her stories of her family and her Sicilian friends; her recipes are wonderful and her photos of food, both in the stalls and on the plate are mouthwatering. And her best friend is Simi, a girl who makes Harvey wish he were half his age again.

I suggested the category Prettiest or Tastiest Blog and when I did, it was Welshcakes's blog I was thinking about. Good as many of the other nominations are, Sicily Scene is the predestined winner of this award.

Please make it happen!

Sicily Scene is also nominated in Best Blog and Best Little Blog categories, so you can vote there as well!

Fast cars and funk

When I arrived at the office today Alun said, 'You look very smiley!'

'I've just driven here in Betty.'

He looked puzzled so I explained. 'I'm driving along and - clonk - the glove compartment falls open. I lean across and push it closed. Bink - the radio turns itself off; I turn it back on. Clonk, the glove compartment falls open; I push it closed. Bink, the radio turns itself off. Clonk, the glove compartment falls open. Is it any wonder I'm hysterical by the time I get to work?'

Ah, the joys of driving an old car.

* * * * * * * * * *

Hair appointment this afternoon. I arrive to be told that Mark has had to go home very sick. Lindsay does my hair instead. She is very enthusiastic. She chops and slices and thins. At the end she says, 'It's very versatile. Next time you're going somewhere funky, call in and we'll funk it up for you.'

She's confused me with someone who goes to funky places but I don't tell her; I just smile. I think about telling her I am going to Zac's tonight; that is about as funky as I get.

Tuesday, June 12, 2007

Dunnocks to you

Husband spent most of the weekend up a tree.

I can't bear to watch; I can't even bear to be in the house while he's perched precariously on the wobbly ladder or a branch not strong enough to hold his weight so I make an excuse to go out. At least on this occasion he didn't have his chainsaw up there with him. At least I don't think he did.

The problem with pruning trees at this time of year is what falls out when disturbed.

When I told him off for leaving the nest on the floor where the eggs could be eaten, he explained that the dunnock eggs were already cold when the nest fell out of the tree, and that the mother wouldn't come back even if he put the nest back in another place. 'But they'll be eaten!' I cried.
'They're already dead so they might as well provide a meal for something,' he said. 'That's nature's way.'
For a long time I thought the bird was called a Wee Dunnock because that's what Husband always calls them. Tonight I asked him and he said, 'No, it's just that they're little and dunnock sounds Scottish.'
Dunnock is their proper name; they're also known as hedge sparrows.
I have become very enamoured of blackbirds recently. There's one - or possibly more than one - who perches on our roof and sings his little socks off. Blackbirds sing wonderful songs; I never realised. They're pretty birds too. Unlike most black birds that can have a sinister and evil appearance, they're small and dainty.
I took our camera out to try and capture the song. Trouble was that I didn't know how to record a film so ended up with still blurry photos. The next time I took the manual with me and read it (flicked through it until I found the bit about filming). Then I found out that I'd been wasting my time as the camera records action but not sound. I also discovered that there was an amazing amount of stuff I don't know about using our camera. It's like the computer: I can do certain things on it but am probably not using one hundredth of its capabilities.
I wonder if I have hidden capabilities. Now would be quite a good time to find them if I have. Before it's too late.

38% of Americans are not entitled ...

to have an opinion, according to a report in the Onion.

Research conducted by the University of Chicago, and published recently, concluded that more than one-third of the U.S. population is neither entitled nor qualified to have opinions.

'...we found that many of the opinions expressed were so off-base and ill-informed that they actually hurt society by being voiced," said chief researcher Professor Mark Fultz ...'

P.S. The Onion is an award-winning parody newspaper. But that doesn't necessarily mean it's not true.

Monday, June 11, 2007

Blogpower awards

This is what should be showing in the post below!
Also I got the time wrong. Polling closes at 7 pm BST.

Knock, knock

Hello, my name is Liz and I'm ... woof ... and this is Harvey, and I'm the author of ... woof woof ... we're the authors of a blog called Finding life hard?

I'm delig ... woof ... we're delighted to say that WE've been nominated in the Blogpower Blogger Awards in category 17, Prettiest or Tastiest Blog.

In case you haven't voted yet I'd like to ... woof ... we'd like to suggest some reasons why you should vote for us.

You should vote for us if you think Wales can win the Rugby World cup this year.

You should vote for us if you think Jed Bartlett would be a better president than Bush.

Woof woof woof ... You should vote for us if you're a dog.

So please go ... woof WOOF woof woof WOOF

Harvey says - and I want to stress that this is Harvey's idea - that you should vote for us ... because he's cute.

So please go along here and cast your vote today! Thank you for listening.

P.S. Thanks to those who have already voted. And big slobbery kisses from Harvey. And dainty little kisses from me.

P.P.S. Welshcakes is nominated in several categories; jmb, lady macleod, crushed by ingsoc, delicolor, and, of course, james, as well as lots of other familiar names are up there too. You can vote for as many people as you like, so do go and join in the fun.

P.P.P.S. Voting closes at 9.00 pm on Wednesday evening. That's probably British time. I think.


Sunday, June 10, 2007

Am I who I say I am?

I saw a man today I hadn't seen for a few years. He walked straight past me until I shouted at him. He said, 'I didn't recognise you, you look so smart in your old age.' Then he said, 'I probably shouldn't have said that last bit, should I ?'
'Actually you probably shouldn't have said the first bit either.'

I shouldn't judge though.

In the church trustees' meeting yesterday someone was saying that the main door is sticking. I said, 'Oh, it's fine if you kick it.'
Several pairs of eyes swivelled round to look at me.
'I mean, not that anyone would kick it, of course.'

I'm just the secretary by the way. I'm far too foolish to be a responsible trustee.

The discussion carried on to how much responsibility we should take for educating the young people who use Red cafe, which has computers and internet access, about being safe online. At some point I mentioned that one of my blogging friends is a code-breaking pilot who lives in Germany. More eye swivelling, before the trustees decide that education should begin at home and give me a leaflet about not believing everything that everyone tells you online.

* * * * * * * * * * *

In the evening Husband and I went out in soft-top Brian. We ended up at Rhossili, where we walked and had a drink overlooking this.

Could there be a better place to spend some time?

Saturday, June 09, 2007

Saturday Photohunt - Shoes

I've posted this photo of my wellies before but I couldn't think of anything else suitable for the theme of Shoes. They were a Mother's Day present last year from Daughter.

Up close and personal

Brian and Betty

Thursday, June 07, 2007

Dona Nobis Pacem was yesterday ...

but I forgot! Sorry, but here is my globe for peace anyway. Visit this blog for more details.

What price health?

Are you aware that prescriptions are free in Wales?

They've gradually been coming down in price and now they're completely free. For everyone. The Health Service as it should be. And as education should be.

I don't know what we're sacrificing to enable this; there must be something that had to go. Is it worth it? I suppose that depends on what we're not doing or getting or investing in.

What makes me cross is having to pay about £6, over the counter, for the tiniest tube of Zovirax. Now it's a very good product and, if applied at the tingling stage, does stop cold sores developing; and I'm sure a lot of money was spent on the research and development costs. But can they still justify the price for 2g of cream?

Diddly de do click click

A strange man just came to my door. (Where is a barking dog when you want one? In the kitchen sleeping peacefully.)

He looked a bit like Lurch only shorter. He was waving a tool in his hand. 'Would you like me to' he said, sidling closer, 'sharpen your shears?'
'Um, no thank you.'
'I do it all here on the premises. You have my guarantee that you won't get ... sharper.'
'Um, no, thank you. Husband does it himself.'
You'd have thought I'd waved garlic at a vampire.
'Urargher,' he scowled as he made his way down the path.

I went and kicked Harvey. (I didn't really.)

Wednesday, June 06, 2007

Motor biking

I took my camera to Zac's tonight specifically to take some photos ... but I forgot until most people had gone. The only ones left were the bikers. Blossum, second from right, offered to show us his belly but we dissuaded him.

Over the weeks we've prayed about some pretty serious stuff but tonight the prayers were all of thanks: for strength, self-confidence, safety, good out of bad.

Your majesty

In the greengrocers this afternoon they had both Jersey royals and Gower new potatoes. I've had Jerseys before and been disappointed so opted for the local ones. It was a wise decision: they were absolutely delicious.

I had them dabbed with just a little butter, some courgettes and a fillet of local wild sea bass. I ate like a Queen! If the Queen ever eats her dinner on a tray listening to Radio 4. And it felt so healthy!

I'd better not go to the Philippines

A man was shot dead in a Philippine karaoke bar last week for singing out of tune.

Apparently violence is not uncommon in Philippine karaoke bars. The Frank Sinatra song "My Way" has been taken off the programme in many places after it was found to be the cause of fights and even deaths when patrons sang out of tune.

* * * * * * * * * *

On the news tonight, it said that Moscow has responded to George Bush's plan to build this space umbrella thingy, by saying, if America goes ahead with it, they will target their weapons on Europe. Excuse me?! How is that fair?

If they do that, we'll ... we'll smuggle all our old barometers into their country. See how they like that.

Tuesday, June 05, 2007

What does fly poo look like?

Last night there were two flies in the bathroom when I went to bed. Not wanting them to dive-buzz me in the middle of the night, I shut the door on them.

Now behind the door, next to the heated towel-rail I had hung some jumpers to finish airing. This morning I found some little tiny greyey-black piles on one of my jumpers. They definitely weren't there before so the only thing I can assume is that the flies took their revenge on me for locking them in.

But I had the final laugh. I taught them not to argue with the fastest towel in the west of Pontypool. And just to make sure they were dead, I drowned them in the toilet.

The interesting thing is that the poo - if that is what it was - was only on the dark red jumper, with nothing on the pale turquoise, suggesting that flies a) are colour-blind; b) prefer red. I wonder if I could get a research grant to study this further. It could prove vitally important. For instance, if i could show that they hate all shades of blue/green, farmers could be encouraged to produce appropriately-coloured fly-deterring meat. Then in a restaurant, you'd be asked, 'Would you like your steak aquamarine or azure?'

* * * * * * * * *

How is it possible for me to go into a shop for two cards and come out without the cards but having spent £32?

To be fair, that does include a citronella candle. On her blog, Welshcakes says she has been told that citronella helps stop dogs barking, so when I just happened to see such a candle today, it seemed like fate, or too good an opportunity to miss. (Regular readers will be aware that, with increasing senility, Harvey barks pointlessly for long periods of the day.)

I also bought a coconut grove candle because the smell reminds me of summer. As a foolish youth, as a sun-tan lotion or rather a frying fat, I used melted coconut oil. How simple life was in those days. It's also the smell of the gorse when it's out in full bloom, in the warm sunshine.

Not at all soporific

I've just watched Miss Potter.

You know the sort of film where you know from the opening scene that you're going to love it? It was one of those. Gentle, beautiful, educational, just adorable.

We have a visit to the Lake District planned for later this month and one of the suggested trips is the Beatrix Potter trail so it seemed a good idea to watch the film first. (I knew it wouldn't be Husband's sort of film but he's away so I could snuggle up on my own and enjoy it.)

I still have the one and only Beatrix Potter book I ever owned. As a child, I was given The Tale of Mrs Tiggywinkle, the hedgehog who took in washing and dried gentlemen's kerchiefs on the washing-line.

A few years ago I attended a reading by Walter Wangerin, an American author. One of the books he'd written is called The Bedtime Rhyme. I bought a copy and asked him to sign it and address to 'the child as yet unborn'. It's for my first grandchild. Whoever and whenever that may be.

This is how the story ends.


Monday, June 04, 2007

It'll be gnomes next

If you recall I recently entered a short story competition. It was run in conjunction with The People's Friend magazine, which bills itself as the 'The famous story magazine'. Each week it contains about six short stories plus a couple of serials and as such it's the probably the largest market around, so it's a good one to get into. Competition entrants were offered a free copy of the mag, which arrived this weekend.

Now the People's Friend is very gentle and traditional. No celeb gossip here, just a weekly rumination on village life from the vicar and adverts that reflect its audience. I sat in the garden at lunchtime browsing through it and reading the stories to try and work out where I'm going wrong.

And that's when I came across this advert for casual trousers in 'pull-on style with back elastication'. 'Mm,' I thought, 'they look comfy.'

I sat up suddenly and slapped myself several times across the face.

It was the second time in three days that I'd had a middle-aged moment. On Saturday, walking through the village, I spotted an outdoor clock cum thermometer. 'That would look nice in the courtyard,' I thought. And then pulled myself up. Oh dear, what is happening to me? I'm turning into a mother-in-law!

P.S. If you have an outdoor clock/thermometer, I apologise. These were particularly twee and I'm sure yours isn't.

Vote early and vote often

Nominations are currently being accepted for 20 different categories for the First Blogpower Awards. Nominations close on Tuesday Night BST. To nominate a blog in any one of the categories, email:
You don't have to be part of the Blogpower blogroll to nominate, be nominated or vote. Go here for all the boring details and important stuff.

In a Welsh suburban garden

I spent the afternoon today gardening and I am a very good gardener. Now this may come as a surprise to those of you who know of my ability to kill a plant with one glance, but I'm a natural at this sort of gardening - the destructive sort. Give me a piece of overgrown land that needs clearing and I'm in my element. Which is quite amazing considering my low tolerance threshold for creepy-crawlies.

I forgot to take a before picture, so this is an after combined with what was. Yes, that enormous pile of weeds filled that little patch of bare earth behind it, completely hiding - and probably trying to kill - the rose, garlic and chives.

We have quite a large garden and Husband, who is away such a lot, struggles to keep up with it. Especially when I have ideas like - why don't we build a pond, re-structure the rockery, plant perennials, do this, do that - all the time. Oh, yes, I'm a good gardener - in theory.

Now this had nothing to do with me. I just wish I could import its perfume for you.

Sunday, June 03, 2007

Yo ho ho

Despite bad press reviews, I loved Pirates III. I mean, who couldn't love a film that contained Cap'n Jack Sparrow? Just the way he runs or the faces he makes. Great fun. It is very long though; it even has a 15 minute intermission, although that's probably so the cinema gets to sell more of its ridiculously expensive goodies. I didn't really understand most of the first half but I did get what it was about in the second half. But I didn't expect that ending!

Now this must be an excuse to have a photo of Johnny Depp on my blog. I think I might steal the one from Serena's.

This is from a cartoon creator site where you add your own caption to a picture of your choice.

* * * * * * * * *

Is anyone else getting a problem with a little box popping up and asking about ActiveX? Is it a blogspot problem?

Saturday, June 02, 2007

Australia 31-0 Wales

Big big sigh ...

* * * * * * * * * * *

I wonder if another shower would help. I took a new shower gel from the cupboard this morning; it was called Comforting Shower Cream. I thought it would be the soapy equivalent of 'There, there, never mind, it'll all be better soon,' but it just smelled of vanilla, which made me think of ice cream cornets. Ice cream is very nice but comforting?

If I'm to be comforted by a smell it should be chocolate or the scent of a thick meaty stew waiting for me after a long, wet, cold, miserable day.

What comforts you?

* * * * * * * * * * *

Husband saved another life today. That of a toad caught in the pool filter. Husband said the toad didn't look very well; I asked if he gave it the kiss of life. 'No, but I gave it a shower.'

It must have helped as Toady is still alive. He's still sitting, recuperating, under the trowel, where Husband left him. I asked how he knew it was a toad not a frog. 'Is it because he's wartier?'

'That and the fact that he walks rather than jumps; that's the big clue.'

I should have paid more attention to my I Spy book of nature.

* * * * * * * * * * *

We're going to see Pirates of the Caribbean tonight! I'm so excited!

Saturday Photohunt - Art

Now this is my ideal career. And I have the training for it with a lifetime of creating everything from sand racing cars to mermaids. It's what I will do when we retire maybe.

This artist was in Fuerteventura where we also encountered an accordion player, an elderly lady who moved from sea-front cafe to cafe, playing for an hour here and an hour there, before passing round the hat. Maybe Husband could do that while I am sand-sculpting. If he could play the accordion. Or any instrument.

My stalker

He was waiting for me today when I got to work.

And when I went downstairs later, he was there again.

No-one else has seen him. I wonder if it's Sirius Black. I know he's meant to be dead but he was able to take on animal form. Perhaps he's trying to tell me something. Or it's not Sirius and he's just an evil stalker. Well, he's picked the wrong person to stalk: I can be as obsessive as the next bird.

I snook down five times again during the morning to try and catch him and finally managed it.

Friday, June 01, 2007

Bad legs and pooh

Harvey hasn't been out for a good few days so, as it was a lovely afternoon (although I didn't realise how lovely until I went out in a polo neck and a woolly cardi) we went over to the field next to the tip.

The grass there hadn't been cut for some time and Harvey doesn't cope well with long grass. His back right leg is especially bad. The paw turns back so that he looks like a ballerina trying to go on tippy-toe. He tripped a couple of times and I had to help him up. (After we'd had a cuddle and a reassuring kiss.) Poor old Harvs.
I thought he was turning into a grumpy old dog as he doesn't wag his tail much these days but Husband said that, as the nerves in his back end are going, it's probably hard work for him to wag his tail. Harvey, the dog who lost his wag. I think he needs to be immortalised in a story.
We met a strange man when we were out. He told me he was a famous inventor. He has invented something called Scoopy-do. He is meeting someone from Crufts next week to try and sell it to them. So when you see it advertised on the television remember: you heard it here first! It's a mousse for spraying on pooh when your dog has pooped on the carpet. I thought he meant it would just disappear in a puff of mousse, but he said you've still got to get rid of it. Now if it disappeared completely that would be a good invention.
Elder Son has obviously inherited his loony magnetism from me.


10,000! Yay!