It was a very busy day in the garden today. Not with me but with the birdlife. The morning was all bright and blue as I topped up the feed and set the tripod up. I then stood in the kitchen and waited.

At one stage a whole gang of starlings attacked the floating table, kicking out all other species. There was also a rather possessive collared dove who wanted everything for himself, fighting off all the wood pigeons.

At one stage there was a group of wood pigeons wandering around beneath the floating table, picking up discarded scraps while the collared dove wandered around picking and choosing what to eat. Though it was only wood pigeons he didn’t like. All the smaller birds were quite welcome to join in.

The blackbird even put in an appearance at the table. I managed to snap him on a branch above it. It’s slightly out of focus, which is annoying, but still…

Mr Blackbird

And then it rained. I quickly dragged the camera inside and set up in the kitchen, shooting out the big window. A rather cheeky robin kept glancing out from behind things. I managed to get one shot of him.

Robin sneaking a peek

At one stage, while the camera was set up in the garden, I snapped a shot of myself (using the wireless remote) as I walked by the floating table. I thought it came out quite well though at a rather odd angle and I think I need a shave.

Glancing askance

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Tonight I watched Kirstie Allsopp (she is so cutsie it’s impossible) learn how to make pork pies, braun and sausages for entry in the handmade section of a Yorkshire show. She has never done any of these things before. She’s oddly entertaining.

There’s something terribly game and wholesome about her desire to try odd things. It was the last episode of her entering things in country competitions – flower arranging, cushion making, pig walking, all manner of things. It’s also the only episode I’ve seen.

I now feel confident that I could make pork pies and sausages by hand. I’m not that keen on buying a pig’s head and turning it into braun so I don’t think I’ll be doing that.

Kirstie is quite infectious and the results are exciting. I’m not going to give away how she goes but she deserves what she gets.

Waiting in the Fracture Clinic

This was my view for a large chunk of the afternoon. The guy on the left kept making annoying grunting noises every few minutes, putting me off my book. I often wonder why people are unaware of the little noises they make. There was a guy on the bus this afternoon, (non)personal stereo blaring out through his ears, who kept making loud noises but I assumed it was because he’s so used to being deafened by thrash metal that he doesn’t hear himself. But the guy in the waiting room was just sitting there, making little grunting noises every few minutes, driving me crazy.

Of course I was kept waiting again. My appointment was for 3:30 and I arrived at 3:20. I was called in to see Miss Nunez at 4:30. One good thing was that grunty guy went in long before I did so I was freed from his annoying habit for a lot of the time.

Sadly the grunty guy was replaced by a family of inbred hillbillies. Mum and son – she looked too old to have a child of five and he never stopped shouting and generally annoying everyone – and a couple who looked like they could have been the product of the mother and her brother.

They had the buck teeth so well emphasised by Cletus Spuckler on The Simpsons with the personalities to match. Their conversation skills were a mere notch above Carmen’s. There accents were almost enough to tempt me to shove knitting needles in my ears, point first. Fortunately I didn’t have any knitting needles.

I may be being unfair but they seemed to be the general population type of Frimley. I snapped the High Street to show how ghastly it looks.

Grimley High Street

I have to admit, not everyone I saw on the streets looked like a hillbilly but then the ones who didn’t also seemed to be passing through rather permanent residents. A couple sitting at a bus stop, seemingly NOT waiting for a bus, could have been the result of a badly judged experiment into inbreeding. One can only hope the experiment was halted after one generation.

So I settled myself into an uncomfortable chair (not that I had a choice – they’re all pretty uncomfortable) and waited for my name to be called. When it was, I had to shake myself awake and pull urgently on my feet which had taken root in the hospital floor.

On my previous visits, I’d seen Miss Nunez’s lackeys but today she wanted to see me herself. I felt quite honoured until she told me that she likes to see patients nearing the end of their time just to keep in touch with life in the clinic. So, hey ho!

Anyway, she was very nice and we sat at her desk, looking intently at my x-rays and MRI scan results. First she looked at the initial x-ray of the break and congratulated me on doing such a thorough job of it. She pointed out the bones and where they should be. She also pointed out my ‘Terry Thomas sign’.

This was what alerted her to the possibility of an operation on my thumb in the first place. It indicates that the scapholunate ligament has been torn. It leaves a black void which is why it’s called the ‘Terry Thomas sign’. Miss Nunez told me that because ‘youngsters’ have no idea who Terry Thomas is, it is sometimes called the ‘Madonna sign’. We both thought this was a pity because TT was a wonderful comic actor who should never be forgotten.

A wonderful comic actor

The thing is, as Miss Nunez pointed out as we progressed through the x-rays, it was clearly an old injury and long passed fixing except with a robot hand. By comparison, the rest of the wrist was looking very good and progressing beautifully.

She told me that the continued swelling was natural and the lack of mobility would gradually cease as I used it more often. When I told her about the hand starting to type of its own accord, she smiled and said that was very good. She assured me that the ache I felt the next day was because my muscles are just getting used to it all again.

The MRI scan was amazing! Because the scanner takes a series of images down through the hand, the images can be slowly stripped out so each part of the hand can be seen as if being peeled away. We could see the tendons, the blood vessels, the bones, the lack of a scapholunate ligament, everything. I told her it looked well cool and she agreed wholeheartedly, scrolling her mouse back and forth going in and out of my wrist like some medieval torturer.

The wonderful show of technology almost made up for the long wait to see it. In fact, the long wait was so long that by the time I came out, the receptionist had gone home for the night. Miss Nunez wants to see me in a few months but I couldn’t make the appointment without a receptionist so they’ll let me know.

Another appointment I had to make was for some hand therapy. For this I had to go to the physiotherapy department (I’m really getting to know my way around the hospital as nothing is close to anything else and requires a grand tour every time I have to visit someone else) which doesn’t appear to have a swimming pool.

I booked it and then took myself home to a pair of relieved poodles, one with a bucket on her head.

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Earlier in the day, I’d positioned the camera in the kitchen because it was raining lightly and managed to capture a few gold finches feeding together.

Busy feeder

It’s supposed to be sunny tomorrow so I’m hoping for some great bird shots.

I bought a wireless remote for my camera the other day and it arrived this morning. I gave it a test run and all was working perfectly.

After my usual morning shopping expedition, I set up the garden ready for some bird watching action.

I dropped the floating table down to a lower branch so I could shoot down onto it and planted the tripod behind a shrub and palm tree. I set the camera up and went inside.

I had an excellent view of the floating table from the back door so I dragged up a dining chair and waited. The poodles thought I was mad and sat watching me. It was a lot better sitting down than standing motionless in the garden.

There was a flurry of activity on the table an I pressed my remote. The noise of the camera snapping away, sent the birds flying off. But they were quickly back.

I eventually spotted a nuthatch standing, picking up bits of food. He even stayed on the table when I set the camera clicking away. It was a very exciting moment. I really wanted to blip a nuthatch.

After a while I went and collected the camera to check the images. About 20 minutes later I reset the camera up properly and had a second attempt.

The settings on the camera were not where they should have been and all the images were rubbish. I’d missed the nuthatch completely. I was obviously in too much of a hurry and hadn’t checked everything. Stupid Gaz!

My second attempt was more successful but the nuthatch didn’t come back. Of course there were lots of blue tits (and lots of pictures of them) but this was my favourite.

Blue tit

I also managed to get a rather nice female blackbird.

Mrs Blackbird

The nuthatch will have to wait for another day.

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I just heard on the news that Ken Russell died today. A great director. He’ll be remembered for being courageous and original. Sadly missed.

Rather than staying the house all day watching Carmen, I put her bucket on her head and went up to Farnham for a Starbucks. I’m really not made for being housebound.

The highlight of my Starbucks visit was when the barista told me about the stray King Charles spaniel that was in his house last night.

He lives at home and, last night his sister came excitedly into his room and told him there was a strange dog in the house. They’re the proud owners of a couple of shih tzus so they’re doggie people anyway but this was a great treat.

Apparently their neighbours had turned up with it, saying it had strayed into their garden and they’d been trying to contact the owner without success. They had to go out and wondered, given they had dogs anyway that one more wouldn’t be a problem.

According to the barista, they had a great night with the King Charles. All good things, though, must come to an end. They finally managed to con tact the owner who picked it up this morning, obviously deliriously happy.

That’s it. Just a nice lost dog story.

Our dog is progressing far too well. It’s a constant battle to stop her jumping on the furniture, especially when Day-z has a bark out the front window. Carmen always has to add her (slightly deeper) bark to the mix. And, of course, she can’t do it from the lounge.

It’s almost comical seeing her stand on her wobbly legs, trying to balance enough to launch herself through the air. Fortunately the slight delay gives me time to stop her.

She is getting better. Her scar is very slight, with only the stitches giving any clear indication there’s anything wrong. Well, if you ignore the big shaved area.

Carmen's stitches

This morning I fed the birds then set the camera up in the kitchen, hoping for some action on the seed tubes. I wasn’t disappointed.

Now clear off!

The green finches are quite aggressive, pushing any other birds off and threatening them with GBH.

We also had visit from a local gang of house sparrows who stopped their eating for a brief dip in the bird bath. For a while, one would stand guard on the rim while the other splashed around in the water. But then it was all too enjoyable and they were soon both in the water.

Sparrows in the bird bath

We had quite a lot of sun and blue sky today. After the wind blew away the clouds, anyway. The light was great for getting shots of the birds, including this lovely great tit.

Great tit on guard duty

I have quite a cunning plan for my bird shots tomorrow so, fingers crossed for more sun and more bird species.

This morning was Carmen’s first post-op appointment with the vet. As Mirinda is staying in town this weekend, I had to think how to transport Carmen. After carrying her home last time and realising what a heavy lump she is, I decided this wasn’t for me. Mirinda suggested a taxi for the trip of two blocks but I opted for a wheelbarrow.

So, at about 8:30, I wrestled the barrow through the house (there wasn’t room to go around Sidney) and settled it by the front door. I grabbed Carmen’s blanket from her basket (realising it seriously needed a wash) and made a lovely little nest, covering the rusty bits.

Day-z stood in the doorway wondering what was going on. I patted her head quizzically as I went back into the house to get their leads. Day-z changed instantly as I reached for the leads.

Successfully attached to their leads, I picked up the patient and carefully placed her in the middle of the barrow. She looked up at me with fear in her eyes. Day-z stood to one side totally confused. This had never happened before.

That’s not exactly true. I’ve tried to wheel them around the garden before but they always jump out almost instantly. Perhaps Day-z was confused because Carmen stayed put.

I then took the handles of the barrow and slowly made my way up the street, a petrified Carmen not filling me with confidence.

It’s not the easiest thing the world to push a wheelbarrow full of Carmen, with my recovering broken wrist and a confused Day-z trying her best to wind her lead around my legs.

We had some well meant commiserations wished us by a couple of separate dog walkers as if we were the very essence of normalcy. All the way to (and from) the vet, no-one stared, laughed or yelled stupid things at us. It was vaguely disappointing.

I parked up at the vet and carried her into reception where we sat and waited. In short, the vet was very happy with Carmen’s progress and she is now booked in to have her stitches out Monday week. Until then, I am to take her for five minute walks up and down the path, getting her to start using the leg.

I told her about Carmen biting off her bandage and that she’d need a bucket for her head, which she organised for me. I think she looks quite Tudor-esque.

A real Tudor poodle

The vet was very happy we have a path, rather than a muddy track. I told her it was an amazing path; a beautiful path. Which reminds me, as Mirinda commented yesterday, the plumber asked if he could walk up and down the path while waiting for his cement to dry. He loved it. And why wouldn’t he? It’s a magical path…after all.

Speaking of yesterday’s marathon post…I woke up with aching left hand fingers today. The reason was I’d not realised but my left hand had decided to start typing, pushing my right hand away from its side of the keyboard. Obviously they’d over worked themselves.

Meanwhile, back at the wheelbarrow…The trip back was, sadly, as uneventful as the trip there and we were soon home.

After lifting Carmen out and settling her on the lounge, I put her blanket in the ashing machine. The washing machine was so disgusted it threw the blanket back out. It took a lot of coaxing to get it to take it but take it, it did.

The rest of the day was basically giving Carmen five minute walks up and down the path in between moments of medication…hers, not mine.

I did turn a corner tonight with regards to my broken wrist. I actually prepared a meal. My salmon with avocado crust. It turned out perfectly. I feel a great surge of accomplishment.

Of course, there was a point during the day that the three of us sat at the back door waiting for birds. There were many blue tits and gold finches, flashing in and out, grabbing seeds, dropping seeds but this one was my favourite.

He came in on too low a trajectory and almost came a-cropper, his claws just managing to grab the perch. I managed to catch him just before he stood upright.

Nearly missed

I should confess to my wife that I used the RSPCA bird identification site to work out what Mrs Chaffinch was. I went through quite a few birds before I reached the correct one. I was tempted to say it was a dunnock…

Carmen has now started to walk around. Actually that’s not entirely true. ‘Walk’ is an exaggeration. She sort of wobbles while making little, jiggly hops. She looks very sad but hopeful.

Carmen gives me the sad eye

Of course, this means I have to be on guard for her sudden appearance just to make sure she’s not trying to jump or run. Jumping is pretty impossible but it wouldn’t stop her. She keeps staring at the dining chair she normally sits on, her one back leg twitching, preparing for the leap but can’t quite manage to get any further.

The trouble is, she spends most of the time lying on the lounge (or upstairs on the bed) and, to appear next to me in the kitchen means she’s jumped (or fallen) off wherever I plonked her. Jumping up or down needs to be avoided.

A new development today has been her managing to get the bandage off. I found her on the bed licking her wound with the bits of dressing littering the waffle blanket. I told her off and, of course, she gave me the sad look.

I found an unmatched sock, cut the toe off and managed to slip it over her leg. I couldn’t find any gaffer tape to secure it so it had to be electrical tape. Electrical tape is not very good. I have to keep my eye on her all the time. I’ve promised her a bucket for her head when we return to the vet tomorrow.

Being housebound isn’t exactly much fun but today it was broken by the arrival of the plumber. He’d returned to finish off the boiler (a small job) and pick up his pipe cutting tool. This was an interesting object that I couldn’t work out either what it was used for or how it was operated.

He picked it up and, with a small flick, had it open. He opened it wider and closed it down by clicking a hidden lever. He was very pleased to get it back. It is used to cut white ‘plastic’ pipes used in boiler installations…and anything else that needs white plastic pipes.

We chatted while he worked and he told me about a somewhat freaky customer he had last week. It made me glad I hadn’t chosen to be a plumber.

The problem was a faulty combi boiler and Mark (the plumber) turned up three minutes early for the appointment and knocked on the door. A tall, ramrod straight, six foot tall chap wearing a grey tracksuit that was two sizes too small and with an elaborate greasy, comb over, opened the door.

Mark told him who he was. The guy asked why Mark was late. Mark looked at his watch and, politely, said he was actually early.

The guy stood motionless, just staring. Eventually Mark asked him if he wanted him to fix his boiler because he’d have to come in to do so. The guy then asked him in.

Mark said this was only just the beginning. While he was working, the guy kept walking back and forth behind him, strangely kicking his feet out at the end of each length of the room, making odd clicky noises with his slippers.

After about ten minutes of this Mark turned around and went off at him, telling him to sit down or just stand in the corner.

The guy became all indignant, telling Mark that it was his house and he couldn’t tell him what to do. Mark conceded he had a point and apologised, asking him if he could just sit and watch.

At one stage there was a knock at the door and a milkman, going door to door, trying to drum up business, asked the guy if he’d like to order milk. The guy proudly stated he didn’t need to because he bought it at the shop. The milkman started telling him it would be more convenient but didn’t quite finish as the guy had slammed the door in his face.

Mark’s blood ran cold as he heard the guy lock the front door and slide home the three huge bolts, effectively locking him inside with this lunatic. Through a nearby window, he could see the milkman disappearing down the road. He desperately wanted to bang on the window and cry for help.

Now Mark isn’t a small guy but he said this guy freaked him out. At one point, Mark had the boiler cover off and bent over to grab a screwdriver and suddenly, out of nowhere, this guy appeared, trying to reach into the open box. Mark just grabbed him in time, saving him from a fatal electric shock.

The guy explained he was trying to help. Mark explained he’d have been dead if he’d touched any of the cables. Mark told me this would have probably been a good thing and saved him a lot of trouble.

Anyway, Mark couldn’t finish the job because he needed a small part so he told the guy he’d be back in the morning. He put the boiler back together and tidied up, telling the guy it might not be him returning. He finished by putting the boiler cover back on, securely.

The next morning he turned up to finish, what should have been a five minute job, to find the kitchen floor completely covered by the contents of this madman”s toolbox. Mark said it looked like the guy had been collecting bits and pieces in a giant toolbox for about 300 years and had just upended it. He had to use a broom to give him access to the boiler.

The guy had also removed the boiler cover for reasons known only to…well, no-one really.

Mark fixed the boiler with the new part, put the cover back on and almost ran out of the door. He vowed never to return – to me and Jenny in the office, I should add and not to the freak of a guy.

He also told me some rather nice things about Prague after I told him we were going for Christmas which lightened the conversation somewhat.

Other than that, I had to stand patiently in the middle of the garden for a while but I managed to get a few lovely shots of this chaffinch.

Mrs Chaffinch

Last night, Carmen was so morose that I decided we’d all sleep in the lounge. In order to protect the cushions, I opened up a few garbage bags to put under the dog blanket. I needn’t have bothered.

While she didn’t empty her bladder, she did shuffle around all night, in her discomfort, making crackly noises with ever movement. Which kept waking me up. It felt like I was back to the aching wrist insomnia of a few weeks ago.

Eventually (at 5:30am), I gave up trying and made a coffee. Apart from meaning I was exhausted, it meant I was awake when mum sent me her great news.

I’ve managed to clear most things this week so I can spend it with Carmen (stopping her running, jumping, gnawing at stitches) but was unable to find someone to swap my Talking Newspaper slot today.

Whenever someone rostered on is unable to make a particular date, it is up to that person to find someone to swap dates. I tried almost everyone but couldn’t find anyone. Short notice didn’t help.

So, exhausted and worried, I locked the dogs into the dining room/kitchen (after putting plenty of newspaper down on the floor and giving Day-z my well thumbed copy of the Emergency Nursing Bible) and set off. I then spent the rest of the morning worried about Carmen.

That’s probably why I made so many mistakes during the recording even though Paul, the engineer, very kindly said it was a good session.

I hurried home afterwards to find a bouncy Day-z and a confused and wobbly three legged Carmen. Again, I needn’t have bothered with the newspaper as it was simply used for play. Or shredding ready for recycling.

When I opened the back door, Carmen went straight out to the toilet. The first time since leaving the vet! She has a seriously amazing bladder. But the best news is she ate all her dinner tonight! She had nothing last night.

I wasn’t here to take many bird photos today but I did get this one while there was still some light left.

Birds playing peek-a-boo

First thing this morning I took Day-z for a walk up to the closest ATM in order to retrieve some funds, as I was running a bit low. I knew I’d be basically housebound once Carmen was home, so I figured this would be my only opportunity. Day-z didn’t complain.

Back at home I bribed her with a Dentastick and popped up to the ex-Londis for some necessary supplies. At this, Day-z did complain. She stood outside, behind the gate, and barked for the entire five minutes. I could hear her most of the way up and down the road. And Mirinda thought I’d be able to leave her on her own!

At 11am we went up to the vet to pick up Carmen. According to the vet, she’d been the perfect patient. This morning she’d woken up being quite “…chipper.” It must have taken it out of her because she’s been about as chipper as a sock for the rest of the day.

I was given all the instructions for her rehabilitation, paid a lot of money, booked her in for a post-op appointment on Saturday and then started for home. It took us a while.

Lifting and carrying a big lump weighing 10.4 kilos under one arm meant I had to have a rest a few times on the way back. I was very concious of causing her any discomfort as well.

For the rest of the day she didn’t moved from the lounge where I put her. Every now and then she lifted her head and looked at me with sadness.

Poor Carmey

Day-z hasn’t a clue what’s going on but has been very good at leaving Carmen alone. Mind you, she’s spent most of the day being asleep as well.

And here’s a great tit about to be attacked by a fake tit.

He's behind you!

There wasn’t a lot of action around the feeder today. Actually, there probably was but the fog made it difficult to see any action. I did manage a couple of shots though. To start with, here’s a cheeky blue tit.

Blue tit on feeder

So, first thing this morning (after Mirinda had left for work) we had a slow waddle down to the vet so Carmen could have her operation. She gave me a long, sad, backward glance as the nurse took her down the long corridor. Nothing like the wanton abandon she exhibits at the kennels.

Day-z, on the other hand, wasn’t in the slightest bit bothered and happily trotted back home with me where we discovered that someone had forgotten to take her indispensable little friend. (Most people call them iPhones.) I was about to text her when she texted me first. I told her to miss a train and I’d bring it up to the station.

Once more hitching Day-z up, I walked to the station. She was perfectly happy going for her second walk of the day until we reached the A31. The traffic started freaking her out so I had to pick her up for the last bit up the hill. She was also a bit freaked by all the people on the platform. It’s tough being so small. We waved goodbye to a now relieved Mirinda and walked home.

We passed a few people who asked where Carmen was. It appears that while I’m invisible, my poodles are not. Probably something to do with being cute.

In the afternoon we went for yet another walk. This time we took a long stroll around the park, stopping off at the totem pole for a short rest.

Getting a kiss

And then, finally, home.

Later in the afternoon we heard from the vet who operated on Carmen. All went well and she was just coming out of the anaesthetic. He told me the procedure he’d performed on her back leg and, quite frankly, it sounded horrendous but he assured me she would be fine. She has to be kept off it for a bit but should be right as rain in a relatively short time.

Normally when I sit at my desk, Day-z curls up behind me on the office chair – there’s just enough room for us both – but today, for some reason, she decided to hop up onto the desk and then lie on the window sill. She has never done this before. Maybe she was hoping to spot Carmen.

She was quite happy to lie there for a while until we had a sudden, very sharp shower of rain (which washed away a lot of the brick dust). The rain against the window made her jump up with fright.

It's raining!

Poor Day-z. It’s going to be a lonely old night for her so I’m going to let her sleep with me. Fingers crossed she doesn’t have any little ‘accidents’ in the night.

And, just to finish, here’s Mr Grumpy Gold-Finch giving me the eye.

Do you mind?

I managed to (accidentally) get a shot of a coal tit this morning. These tiny fellows dart in and out so quick, you don’t usually see them at all. He almost looks like he’s smiling.

Coal tit

When we went to Hankley on Saturday, Carmen hurt her leg. It wasn’t until the end of the walk. She was hobbling around looking completely bemused. I couldn’t find anything in her paw (stone, twig, thorn, etc) so we assumed she’d just strained something.

All day Sunday she was looking a bit sad and sorry and couldn’t walk on it. We figured if it wasn’t fixed by Monday, she’d be going to the vet. And so, today, she went to the vet.

The vet gave her an examination and it seems she has torn the cruciate ligament in one of her back legs. This is what her ‘knee’ looks like and what/where the cruciate ligament is.

Not Carmen's knee

Of course, the vet wasn’t 100% certain but she was pretty adamant that Carmen needed surgery ASAP. Part of the procedure is an x-ray first, just to make sure. If this shows that the ligament isn’t torn then she can probably just come home otherwise she’ll be in for yet another operation. She will be spending the day and night at the vet.

The pain has not stopped her leaping about on the furniture. Although, I should say, she misses more often with only three legs.
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How’s this for a cheeky face?

Gold finch