After the excitement of yesterday, it was with a sigh of relief that today rumbled along full of…nothing. Much.

I was mostly occupied with housework, enjoying the mundanity and the lack of pressing bodies squeezed into a metal cylinder. Though the weather has been extremely changeable, it’s not been too bad. To prove it, the guy was out trimming the cricket pitch up in the park. Not that he looked too impressed.

The Farnham cricket ground and pavillion

One highlight (there were two) was when Day-z ran off into the woods (Carmen is still on the lead). We left her to run around for a few minutes and then, when she hadn’t returned, I called her. She almost never returns on the first call so I called again and whistled.

I felt Carmen tugging on the lead and looked down. Standing there, looking at me all quizzical, was a white Westie, sitting, her tail wagging beneath her. I bent down and patted her, wondering where her owner was. Carmen said hello in her dog way, which was difficult given the Westie was sitting down.

I heard a voice in the distance calling out “Daisy?” and looked up. An old chap was striding towards us and the Westie looked around and ran off towards him.

Meanwhile, Day-z burst from the woods and ran straight towards this old chap as if it was me. When she reached him, she immediately realised her mistake. Her tail went down and she searched frantically for me. The old chap bent over to pat her but she was gone, running towards me like a frightened pheasant.

I smiled at Carmen as Day-z reached us. Carmen winked at me, realising this would never happen to her. I’ve yet to meet another dog called Carmen. I looked up, wanting to share the jape with the old chap but he’d turned around and wandered off with his Daisy.

The second highlight was a little more disastrous. While I was burning the cardboard and bits of paper with our names and address on them, Carmen decided she wanted to play with her sister. In order to do this, she grabbed Day-z’s favourite toy and ran around the garden with it in her mouth, teasing her sister mercilessly.

The first few times Carmen ran passed her, Day-z gave a few tentative snaps at the toy but generally pretended she wasn’t interested. This never lasts long and she suddenly made a successful grab at it, grabbing hold of one of the ends. Then ensued a rough and tumble tug of war with the toy as the rope. And then it happened.

They suddenly split apart, rolling around, dazed and confused. Day-z dropped a round bit out her mouth and Carmen looked at the remaining piece at her feet where she’d dropped it. Day-z was very, very confused. She picked up her piece and took it over to Carmen’s piece. Carmen, thinking she had to make herself scarce, came over to join me at the burn bin.

We watched as Day-z proceeded to move both pieces from safe place to safe place. She does this with her toys all the time. From the twisty tree to the bird table and back again. I have no idea what she’s doing or why. It’s also what she does when she’s sick of playing the retrieval game with me.

And so, for the rest of the day, poor Day-z has been playing with both bits. Her favourite game of placing the toy on the arm of the long lounge and watching it drop, is much quicker now with the ball end and a little less so with the other bit. Some times it’s tough for a poodle.

One becomes two

Now that Mirinda’s office is painted the correct shade of blue, we figured it was time for her big pictures to grace the walls. We had already moved them from her old office to her studio flat, where I hung them and then across to the Canary Wharf flat where they’ve sat, bound up in bubblewrap, waiting behind an upright mirror. Given it was a Wednesday, it was decided I would go to the flat, pick up the pictures and meet her at work.

And so I set off beneath steely grey clouds, hoping the rain would hold off falling on me during any time I was outside. On the way to the station I spotted a lovely sea of daffodils and snapped them for a possible blip today, little knowing this was one of the only bits of bright joy I would see today. I have recently started blipping yellow subjects and these were a likely candidate. As it turned out I used something else but include the daffs here.

A sweeping sea of daffodils

The train into Waterloo was uneventful (I actually slept for most of it) and I headed down to the Jubilee Line where my travails began. There were no trains between Green Park and London Bridge. People were milling and moaning and asking obtuse questions so I headed up to the Waterloo East line, thinking I could get a train to London Bridge and easily transfer down to the Tube from there. My thinking, while correct, should have been employed to deciding not to collect the paintings this week!

I was not alone in my plan. Hordes of disgruntled passengers waited on platform A at Waterloo East for the next train. I wonder why the platforms at Waterloo East are letters rather than numbers? It’s quite odd. I guess it’s to differentiate between Waterloo proper, which has numbered platforms (like normal) but it’s a long way between the two stations and the lines are separate enough that you’d never get mixed up. It’s probably something I’ll never know.

So I’m bundled onto a less than comfortable train for the usual stop start trip to the next station. Behind me was a rather dirty looking fellow with a wheelie contraption which had a big toolbox attached to it. He was sweating and grumbling profanities under his breath. Although not quite enough under his breath as everyone heard his complaints. He then made a very loud phone call which began without the usual pleasantries such as “Hello” and instead started with “Is it ‘oomid’ or is it just me?“. he was moaning about having to travel all the way to Charing Cross with his tools and was now on his way deep into Kent. he claimed with the addition of another hour, he could be in Spain. He explained to the person on the other end of the phone that Eurostar only takes two hours. Fortunately I escaped any more of his entirely pointless conversation as the train arrived at London Bridge. And, just for the record, no-one could call today humid, ‘oomid’ or even mildly damp.

So I made my way down to the Tube to find a few hundred other unhappy travellers queueing politely at the doors. A Tube train sat in the station, doors closed, empty. It’s like having a chocolate bar suspended on a stick just inches away from your grasp. I joined a queue and waited. And waited.

The indicator boards kept changing their minds. Sometimes the next train was a minute away and then, suddenly without warning, it was 14 minutes. And then, the next train was out of service and due in 5 minutes. A message over the tannoy cleared it all up. A massive signal failure had affected all the trains between Green Park and Waterloo and someone ‘taken ill’ at Canary Wharf was causing problems in the other direction. The thought crossed my mind that I could still back out and walk to Mirinda’s office without the pictures. Sadly, I ignored it.

After a (long) while, a Tube worker told us all that the train in the platform was the one the person was ‘taken ill’ on earlier in the day and, therefore, not fit for passenger use. I really want to know what this person did to it! Tube trains are not the nicest places to travel on so it must have been pretty dire. Actually, given that, I really do not want to know. Anyway, eventually it moved off to be dipped in acid or whatever it required and we were told the next train would be arriving shortly. The indicator board did not agree but we heard the whoosh of the approaching train and it pulled in quite quickly.

We all piled on, squashing up against windows and doors and quite smelly, halitosis suffering passengers. What is it with bad breath? How can they not know how bad they smell? I stopped breathing through my nose for the rest of the journey. A journey that did not start fro another ten minutes as we sat in the station.

When we set off down the tunnel, the driver told us that the trip was going to be slow because we were following the ‘taken ill’ train and it was going very slow. I was beginning to think whatever this person was suffering had to be pretty powerful to affect the drive mechanism of a Tube train and was seriously something no-one wanted to catch. Let’s hope the train is completely stripped and rebuilt before coming back into operation.

It was a ridiculously slow trip to Bermondsey and then Canada Water. In fact, had we moved any slower, we’d have stopped. The driver tried lightening the mood by making frequent jolly jests about the inefficiency of the line. it worked…a bit. When we pulled into Canada Water, there was a groan from those closest to the doors as a group of about ten 8 year olds with one teacher boarded.

I happen to think the idea of a school system where kids are kept off the streets works really well: It keeps them off the streets, out of the adult world of real things. And so I weep when masses of children hop on and off public transport in order to attend excursions around the city. It must be hell for the teachers keeping watch over them. Maybe it’s to give them an inkling of what a city worker goes through when catching the Tube. And because this train was going so slow, they all sat on the floor.

Of course, when the train pulled into Canary Wharf, these kids were not getting off and were all in front of the door. And, naturally, the majority of the other passengers were getting off at Canary Wharf. This had two effects. Firstly, there was a danger of squishing a few of them which, while doubtlessly a pleasurable experience, would have meant a delay and, secondly, a lot of them leapt up to grab the vacated seats. It was mayhem.

I managed to swipe a few out of the way and struggled to reach the door before the doors closed. I’m pretty sure a few others didn’t make it. You can bet that a train which has no problem standing idle in a tunnel for 15 minutes will only give you 30 seconds to get off before slamming the doors in your bewildered face.

The fresh air was a delight as I left the Jubilee Line for the outside world. Fortunately the sun was still hidden by clouds, otherwise I think the bright light would have blinded me. I checked my watch. I was going to be horribly late. It had taken me over an hour for a trip that normally takes 20 minutes.

Normally I’d pop into Starbucks for a coffee but not today. There would be no popping in to anywhere for anything. Apart from the flat. I popped in, grabbed the pictures and popped out again.

My plan was to walk up to the South Quay DLR station, go to Bank and grab a taxi from there. As I reached the platform, a train pulled in and I hopped on. As I sat down, I realised it was the first time I’d managed to get off my feet for an hour and a half. The trip to Bank was uneventful (thank the gods!) and I managed to wander the miles of tunnels to the exit at the Bank of England, finding a cab waiting at a set of lights.

And now ensued the longest trip of the day. We must have caught every red light and sometimes didn’t move through green lights because of the traffic. I could have walked it quicker, without the pictures that I still clung to. 25 minutes late, I texted Mirinda to say I’d arrived.

It occurs to me that I could have easily caught a Tube train to Bank from Waterloo and taken the DLR to the flat. Call me an idiot; this would probably have worked perfectly. I am kicking myself as I type…not an easy task as I keep falling off the chair. Still, that would have made a rather boring blog post.

Anyway, we had a lovely lunch then played Dodge the Tourists at Covent Garden while avoiding the rain. I was going to visit the Foundling Museum but I quickly realised I’d really rather go home again. The poodles were quite happy with that.

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And an amusing snippet found online today. Here is a story about a house that looks like Hitler.

It was raining this morning as I chatted to mum and dad, telling them about Sarah Jane Adlam. I looked out the back door, peering at the remaining bluebells I didn’t transplant. That’s the other thing I did yesterday, apart from genealogy.

Mirinda isn’t too keen on how the bluebells are all over the place rather than forming a big clump of blue. They were planted by some previous owner of the house so I can’t be blamed for that. And so, yesterday, I started moving them to beneath the hedge, all clumped together. If they manage to survive, they’ll look really good. I repeat IF they survive.

Anyway, I managed to move half of them. It was quite an intensive operation, particularly working between the roots of the hedge. Which is why I only managed half. I fully intended to transplant the second half today but the weather intervened.

So, having been thwarted, I decided to start stripping the corridor wall of wallpaper (also put up by a previous house owner, this time with no taste) in preparation for painting it sage green. Anyone who has stripped well applied wallpaper, will understand why I didn’t finish in a day. I managed to make a huge mess and remove the paper from two ‘panels’. It feels like I’ve stripped an entire house.

My day was interrupted by a hairdressing appointment. There was an embarrassing quantity of grey hair peeking through. This has now been rectified by Gordon and a young girl with remarkable purple hair.

Near the hairdresser is a Peacocks (similar to Best and Less in Australia) so I popped in to look for a t-shirt for Carmen. She was asking for one rather than wear the coat all the time. She wanted something with a heavy metal band on the front and in black but I told her she’d get what she was given. I discovered that t-shirts sized for 1-6 months do not have heavy metal bands on them. The best I could do was an elephant. I’m sure Mirinda will have something to say about that.

Carmen in her new t-shirt

After seeing her face, I assured her that no-one would see her in it. She was concerned I’d put it in the blog. Please don’t tell her.

I have cracked the mysterious Sarah Jane Adlam story. I knew there had to be something odd about the Adlam -v- Cook thing and I was right.

Today I received a marriage certificate for Sarah Jane Cook and an Ernest Adlam from 1916. It is definitely my Great Grandmother – there’s just too many bits of evidence for it not to be her. They married ten years after my grandfather was born. Sarah married as a spinster so I’m assuming he was a bastard. As was Aunt Lilian (the woman who bought dad up) since she was born in 1902. It’s interesting that the Buttericks had a problem with children born outside of marriage but the Cooks didn’t seem to! I refer, of course, to dad’s sister he didn’t know he had, because she born out of wedlock.

Anyway, legitimacy aside, this information has enabled me to go back a long way. I know Sarah Jane’s parents and her mother’s side back to about 1700 now (thanks to a very generous chap who’s tree I have access to). I will now need to work on Sarah Jane’s father (William Thomas Cook) who was a railway signalman or a labourer, depending on the census you read.

Actually, when Sarah Jane married Ernest, her father, though dead, was a Foreman Shunter. I’m pretty certain this is a step up from signalman so I guess he climbed the ladder of the railways.

The Cook family, before moving to Kensal Road, lived in Battersea, which is where Sarah Jane was born along with her sister (Louisa) and brother (Albert). Poor old William was dead by 1901 so he never saw his daughter married (finally) at the grand old age of 41. I’m still searching for the mother’s death. All I know is that Sarah Jane’s sister, Louisa, was a witness at the marriage.

Charlotte, Sarah Jane’s mother, was born in Sussex and, bizarrely is descended from the Vitlers of Sussex. This is odd because Mirinda’s family goes back to the Vidlers of Sussex! I am hoping we’re not related.

This has all been very exciting (it still is as I dig deeper) and has kept me engaged ever since the sun started to go down. Sadly, however, I have yet to find a birth record for my grandfather. Or a death record. Still, Sarah Jane was a mystery I’ve now solved. Who knows what may come next.

The clocks went forward an hour last night when we went to bed which was actually the morning because, before we put them forward it was 11:10 which means when we changed it, it was 12:10 and the next day, Sunday, which is census day.

We had a lovely meal at Cafe Rouge and walked back to delirious dogs and a couple of episodes of CSI series 10. And, finally, bed.

Given that the clocks went forward, it was like we’d not been asleep for very long. The day dawned gloomy but, as it progressed, the sun came out and the sky turned blue.

After the usual shop, the challenge of filling out the census form online (twice) and Mirinda’s phone call to her parents, we gathered the poodles together for a walk. Here they are patiently waiting out the front for us. It was an excellent idea to train them to put their own lead on. And showing them where to wait. Saves us a lot of hassle.

Carmen & Day-z wait outside for their slow owners

Eventually, tt was a glorious walk across Hankley with the poodles. We saw very few people, which is always nice. We did see this lot…

Family at Hankley out for a walk

…but they were quite a distance away. We even let Carmen off the lead and she was (almost) very well behaved. The day was perfect although we had an hour less of it because of the clocks.

Back at home we had lunch and then waited for the conservatory guy that Mirinda had ordered last week. And what a lovely chap he was. An excellent salesperson, he convinced Mirinda we not only needed a conservatory but we needed his company to build it. We signed on the dotted line and they’ll start building it tomorrow!

Actually, that’s not really true. He WAS a very nice chap and not at all pushy. There was nothing to sign or commit to. He explained everything and went away to prepare a few quotes for the 37 different designs that Mirinda threw at him. When (if) we give the word, it’s supposed to be finished in about 16 weeks. It could end all of our space problems and mean we may stay here for at least five more years.

After he’d gone, Mirinda took a turn around the garden. I was in her study and thought the garden was looking particularly lush so I snapped her in it.

Our garden looking lush for a change

But, a highlight of the weekend was our joining the Farnham Humanists. I’ve filled out the form, written the cheque and will have it in the post tomorrow. They meet once a month at the Hop Blossom pub to discuss things that do not contain religion. They meet on Sunday nights. We shall both be going.

A while ago, Mirinda remarked that it would be a very nice touch if, perhaps, some day, she came home to find I’d bought some flowers and put them, in a vase, in the house somewhere. Maybe. This was a while ago. Then, yesterday, as I left the house to go shopping, it occurred to me to actually buy some. Of course, I forgot. And so Mirinda came home and, again, there were no flowers.

This morning, in Waitrose, the flowers suddenly yelled out to me. They are in a very obvious place and in a very big display. I nodded to them in thanks and collected a bunch of yellow roses. I love yellow roses. I decided to blip them, they were so lovely. One comment (from Dawn) was “I wish someone would buy me some yellow roses.”1 Here they are, looking like floral sunshine by the front door.

Lovely yellow roses

Most of the day was spent with Mirinda studying/writing an essay and me online working on the family tree. But then, in the late afternoon, we decided to drive over to Hankley for a walk. The day had been sunny with a few scattered clouds and warm. We thought it would be a lovely walk. The closer we drove to Hankley the weirder the weather became. It then rained. We stayed in the car, the dogs both looking out the back window as we passed the spot we usually park in.

We ended up back at the house. After parking the car, we took the girls for a walk up to the castle and back. Here they are trying to catch up with Mirinda who is clearly sprinting for home.

Carmen & Day-z struggle to catch up with Mirinda

We are going out for dinner tonight to celebrate…actually I don’t think we’re celebrating anything. Maybe that’s what we’re celebrating. Whatever…we wanted to go to Cote (Mirinda’s new favourite Farnham restaurant) but it is very popular (just like Clifton Cote) and we couldn’t get a table! Instead, we are off to Cafe Rouge, Mirinda’s other favourite Farnham restaurant.

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Overheard in Waitrose:
Old guy: Yep. I’m 97 today. Feelin’ pretty spry.
Woman checkout operator: Wow! 97. Happy birthday.
Old guy’s son: No you’re not, dad.
Old guy: I’m NOT 97?
Old guy’s son: Not yet, dad.
Old guy: It’s not my birthday either?
Old guy’s son: Not today, dad. Tomorrow is your birthday and you’ll be 96.
Old guy: (back to the woman checkout operator) See? It’s my birthday and I’m 97.

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1 Just in case he’s reading, this is a hint for Nicktor.

So much for my stepping stones and extra upright. At the totem pole today we found out what the additions are. A bench. I assume it is for anyone wishing to sit and contemplate the totem pole. Or the castle if you were to sit the other way.

Bench and totem pole in Farnham Park

It is very low to the ground and the seat is just a solid piece of wood. All round, quite uncomfortable, I’d have thought. I didn’t try it out though Day-z did walk on it. Carmen clearly wanted to but she is still on her lead so I had to disappoint her.

Speaking of our little patient…she went to see the nurse today to check for any signs of infection and she was given a clean bill of health! Actually, she is completely back to normal now as Mirinda noticed when she arrived home tonight. There’s no way (except for the big ugly scar) you’d think she’d had an operation on Tuesday. Still, I have to keep her on her lead when out walking until next Saturday! That’s the date for the stitches to come out.

Something else in the park that caught our attention were these two guys sitting in the sky. The contraptions they were flying in appeared to be kitchen chairs with an engine underneath and a fan behind them. Attached to the back of the chair were parachutes. They made an awful racket and flew in out of the sun, so the photo is not that good.

Tow guys in the sky

They were also quite a distance away and getting further as I fumbled for the camera. I was surprised that Carmen didn’t react though, given her strong feelings for Montgolfiers.

Another gloriously sunny day spent working in the garden. It was the turn of the front today. I spent quite a few hours either on my knees pulling up herb Robert or up a ladder wrestling with our vicious wisteria. Suffice to say, it all looks a lot better now, with an improved kerb appeal. But the day didn’t start so sunny…

Farnham Park one misty morning

The walk into town was shrouded in fog. Though not so thick I didn’t see that some bored person or persons unknown had decided it would be great fun to pull over the steel fence around the new playground. I looked closely at the new (unused) pieces but could discern no damage. Fortunately. I guess their boredom didn’t extend to destruction of children’s playthings.

The fog lifted quite quickly and, back at home, I hitched up the poodles and we went for our walk. Carmen was still on the lead and today she wasn’t so keen. Every time Day-z ran off, Carmen would try and follow…until the lead stopped her flat.

Up near the castle, there was a surprise. The totem was undergoing some sort of additional construction around it. It looks like stepping stones and a big flat piece of wood. I will have to check tomorrow and see if it’s finished.

Working on the totem surrounds

Heading back home, Day-z had her usual run around the Squirrel Tree without success before we arrived at our front door, ready for the assault on the front garden.

Day-z at the foot of the Squirrel Tree

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I heard a programme on Radio 4 the other day where a guy posited that because so many people are wearing personal stereos, no-one whistles any more. He makes a good point. I whistle a lot but wouldn’t if I was plugged into an electronic device. Though I’d probably play air guitar, tap my feet and generally be very embarrassing.

Elizabeth Taylor died today. While I’ll be the first to say she went a bit odd in the end, I must confess to having had a huge crush on her when she starred in National Velvet. To be fair, I first had a crush on the girl in the television series but once I watched Liz, I was smitten.

And then there’s Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf? I sat through many performances of the nomad production of this. I always thought our own Liz (Griffiths) was excellent until I saw Ms Taylor. What a fantastic performance. She was Martha, completely. Never to be bettered. One of the best female performances I’ve ever seen in a movie.

However…let’s not dwell on such sad news. After Nicktor left for work and I’d spoken to mum and dad, we went to the park for a walk.

Given that she’s still recuperating, Carmen had to stay on the lead while Day-z was allowed to run free. Carmen was a bit surprised at this but the vet told me to be careful with her. Of course she had her coat on but even so. She didn’t mind too much because her bright green pressure bandage garnered her a bit of sympathy with a couple of dog walkers who thought she had a sore leg. She didn’t correct them, not wanting them to see her shaved back!

The park looked gorgeous in the sunshine and a lot of dog walkers were out and about, soaking it up. Lots of couples, which is odd for a week day. The avenue of trees looked especially lovely.

The Avenue of Trees, Farnham Park

In a complete change to yesterday, Day-z ran around like a lunatic this morning. I’m not sure whether she was making up for her sister not being able to or she was showing off but whichever, she roamed far and wide. If you measured the distance she travelled it was probably four times as much as Carmen and me.

Back at the house, the garden was all set for working in. Which I did. Copiously. I potted up some stripy plants, planted some Aquilegia (granny’s bonnet) and ripped out some nasty weeds. I even erected the Insect Hotel we bought so long ago at Crondall Primary School.

The Insect Hotel

According to the weather station, it reached 29.9 degrees in our garden! I know this is direct sunlight on the thermometer but, even so, it was hot where I was working. I even worked up a sweat!

Here’s a photo of Carmen, just before she decided to have a lay down on the tulips next to me…

Carmen striding purposely over to me

…and one of Day-z.

Day-z helping me by sitting on my lap and looking mysterious

Carmen had a confused look on her face as the nurse led her away down the long corridor. This has never happened before; her one way, Day-z the other. And how come Day-z gets to go with the head of the pack? What’s that about?

Day-z, on the other hand, acted as if nothing strange had happened. True, on arrival back home, she did run around looking for her sister but, basically, she has just accepted it.

This is the first time they have been separated for this length of time, ever. The previous longest was when Mirinda decided it would be a good idea to leave Day-z alone at the cottage while she took Carmen to the vet. Boy, was that a big mistake. It set the bar for neighbour hatred quite high. Day-z, being Day-z, had taken her frustrations out by complaining in a thin, reedy, high pitched voice. This upset them a bit.

When it was time for Mirinda to leave for work, we walked with her as far as the park entrance that leads to Bear Lane and had our farewells. Walking back through the park, Day-z didn’t leave my side. She was clearly confused as Carmen normally sets off first, exploring and rolling. Even when we spotted a labrador rolling in something evil and her owner yelled for her to stop or she’d be thrown outside for the rest of the day, Day-z didn’t show any interest at all. This is odd behaviour.

Back at the house, we settled down to do some serious nettle extraction in front of the compost bins. It’s terrible stuff. It’s easy enough pulling it out but under the ground there’s an invidious network, a spiderweb, of small roots, matted through everywhere. And then there’s the tap roots which appear to go down forever. Still, we persevered and eventually it was clear. We planted gladioli and a verbena banana custard.

I say ‘we’ because Day-z spent most of the time standing next to me, occasionally looking lost as if she wanted to play but had no-one to play with. A couple of times she tried to get me to run up and down the garden with her. I told her that was never going to happen.

At about 1pm, I had a phone call from the vet saying Carmen was out of the operation and slowly waking from the anaesthetic. I could go and pick her up at 3. I was down there just after.

If Day-z looked bewildered this morning, it was nothing on how Carmen looked! Obviously she was pleased to see us but not in her usual boisterous way. If anything, she just wanted to get home. She kept making this pitiful little noises as if she didn’t understand what was happening. She was clearly still a bit drugged. Day-z seemed to know she had to be a bit careful and, I’m glad to report, didn’t bite her face like she usually does.

The nurse told me to make sure Carmen had lots of rest and quiet – not a big problem where Carmen’s concerned. The scar looks pretty mean but not as bad as I thought it was going to be.

Carmen's stitches after her operation

We have to return to the vet on Friday to check for any signs of infection and then the stitches come out in 10 days. I’m just glad she made it through and is back with us…asleep on the bed…where she should be.