The House Husband

I spent most of today in the garden. Seeing as it was all blue sky and sunshine, it was very pleasant. Having the radio on also aided in the overall pleasantness.

The main thing that has to be accomplished this week is preparing the bed closest to the house for some decent planting. This isn’t as easy as it is to type. But before that, I had to transplant the lady’s mantle and geranium from the front garden to the back. This was no easy task. They both are pretty deep rooted but I managed to get them safely (I hope and only time will tell) newly sited in the back.

Next I had to move a few Aquilegias that have self seeded everywhere. This accomplished it was then time to dig up the masses of bluebells. I moved a load last year and they survived under the hedge so I added some more to the sweeping river of green as well as popping a few in the mossy lawn in front of the hedge. Hopefully they’ll look good next year because they’re a bit forlorn at the moment.

Having managed to remove anything of any value, I then went mad and forked the bed up, weeding as I went. Eventually I could get to the fence (between us and the Crazies) and ripped the old, dead golden hop vines off the wires that generally suspend it when it’s growing. This was very fiddly!

Meanwhile, the poodles were annoying the resident frog so I had to keep rescuing it. I’m sure I’ve discussed the frog before. I’m not sure where it lives but every now and then it appears on the patio and the girls love trying to play with it. The frogs defence mainly consists of just sitting there doing nothing. This just makes the dogs want to play even more. Stupid frog. I must have rescued it 100 times before it decided to hop away to where ever it came from.

As soon as I finished the bed, the birds went mad, swooping down and inspecting for anything alive they could lay their beaks on. Most persistent was a little robin who didn’t even wait for me to finish! Here is my little foreman sternly watching over my work, just waiting to jump on anything not quite right.

All I want is a worm! Can't you hurry up?

Of course, after lunch, we went up to the park (along with the thousands of others seeing as it’s holiday time for the schools) and spotted the woman with the two big white dogs. They are lovely but one is really docile while the other is a bit of a terror. The Terror is always kept on a lead. It just growls and barks ferociously at any other dog that stupidly crosses its path. Needless to say, Day-z runs a mile every time she sees it. I have never seen two dogs walking together, that are so different.

The terror is to her left, the docile on her right

Apart from the Terror, Day-z was very inquisitive today, sniffing a few picnic baskets and generally being fussed over by groups of sun-happy visitors. It was all rather jolly.

Meanwhile, back in the garden, my gloves waited…

Hurry up!

This morning I picked up Carmen. She was very heavy and it almost did my back in. This afternoon I picked her up and she was light as a feather. From butter ball to weightless. How is this possible?

The poodles had a haircut!!!!! Finally. Kate (their stylist) said it was the worst she’s ever seen them. She lost three pairs of scissors in their hair before she was finished. She had enough hair afterwards to make another couple of poodles AND stuff a pillow.

This is what they look like now:

Our two new dogs

When Kate dropped them off, I almost sent them back, thinking they were someone else’s dogs. Then Day-z leapt up at me and Carmen gave me a high five and I knew at once it was them. And they went manic…always indicative. It’s like when the hair goes they are suddenly free to run around at twice the Speed of Dog*.

How am I lookin'?

I couldn’t get them to stand still long enough outside to get a shot with them both in it so it’ll have to be one of each. That was Day-z posing with intent on the path she loves so much. And this is Carmen showing that her leg has healed enough for her to resume her bird bath drinking antics.

Shlurp, shlurp, shlurp, choke on a feather, shlurp

So, all is right and proper and we once more have a couple of poodles rather than the yeti’s that Kate picked up this morning.

* The Speed of Dog is how fast any given dog can run in pursuit of something they will never catch, like a squirrel.

There is an unwritten law in our house. Sunday nights are free from work. At the end of our weekend, the last thing we want is an invasion of work related stress. The peace and serenity achieved by two days at home can be completely dashed by one simple yet not entirely thought out intrusion.

And this had been such a good weekend. Mirinda entertained herself in the garden for a few hours which is always restful. We watched a good movie on Saturday night (One Day – highly recommended) and had a few episodes of Trial & Retribution for lunch and dinner.

We’ve been catching up with Trial & Retribution over the last few months and are becoming increasingly irritated with the main character. Mike is ghastly. He is gradually approaching the ‘no redeeming features’ realm of TV drama. It’s weird that a thoroughly unlikeable character can be successful as a police inspector. Still, it’s entertaining which is what you want over your ham roll and soup.

And we were happily watching part 2 of series 7 when Mirinda’s little friend announced the arrival of a text. She’d changed the notification sound so, at first, we didn’t know what it was. It’s a bit of an improvement over the old one which reminded me of the intro to a scary moment in a horror film.

It was from Ben. His text suddenly caused Mirinda to go stiff and quiet. It wasn’t good. We tried to concentrate on the TV but the text was obviously preying on her mind. I paused the TV and we discussed the text.

There is one name that will cause this sort of reaction in my wife and he’d mentioned it in the text. The text was teaser, asking if she knew who’d headhunted this person, the fear being it was her company. As it turned out, it was another company over which they all have an interest, but it had the power to ruin an otherwise perfect weekend.

Mirinda eventually rang him and told him off, explaining the Sunday Night Rule in no uncertain terms. He was sufficiently chastised although he did think it funny. He has a very loud voice on the phone and I could hear his nervous laughter. According to Mirinda he seemed more concerned that he’d upset me!

Anyway, it all turned out all right and he now knows the Sunday Night Rule. Day-z, being a little behind things as usual, then jumped off me and stood on the lounge room floor. Then, like a scene from The Exorcist, she was suddenly overtaken with a fit of projectile vomiting. Mirinda’s first comment was how handy it was we have wooden floors.

Poor Day-z. Her gentle sensibilities had been shattered by the text; her disdain evident in a large pool on the floor. It was so bad, she then sat outside on the path, taking the fresh air in order to settle her tummy.

Both the poodles have a bad habit of drinking the water in the bird bath and Mirinda thinks it was this that turned her tummy (it was all clear liquid, after all) but I’m convinced it was Ben and his text.

I had my final physio today. Of course I didn’t know it was my final physio when I left this morning but I did have my fingers a bit crossed.

To be honest, I was a bit worried about travelling today, what with the remaining snow and ice everywhere. The last time we experienced snow here (the year before last as we missed the big one last year) the paths and roads were awful. My chief concern was falling over and trying to save myself with my left wrist. Not a pleasant thought.

My fears, however, were unfounded. Everyone on our side of our street had shovelled the snow away from the path so there was a lovely clear and continuous path to the main road. The main road is clear because the council do that. I noticed with a certain amount of micro-local pride that the next street along seemed not have bothered at all.

When I arrived at Frimley station, however, it was a very different matter. Snow and ice everywhere! Mind you, the snow did improve it a bit. It amazed me that the station had snow around it. Still, with a lot of care and consideration, I made the hospital unscathed.

Slush outside Frimley station

After a few little testing exercises, Sandra proclaimed that she was very, very pleased (her double very, not mine) with me and that she never wanted to see me again and so I bid her (and Frimley) goodbye for ever! I hope. She did add that if I experienced any degradation in my wrist that I could call her. This is not likely.

Back in Farnham I did the usual shopping and gossiping with my Starbuck’s and Waitrose chums before heading back home. On the way I noticed how lovely the Farnham Bowling Club green looked in white. It then occurred to me how much easier it would be to see the bowls if the grass was all white.

I wonder why someone decided to walk out to the middle and back?

The rest of the day was spent working on financials – sorting out how much money we’ve lost by owning too much property during an economic downturn. I won’t bore you with the details. Instead, here’s a picture of Day-z, lying on the window sill, wondering when Mirinda is coming home.

I wish this glass wasn't so cold on my nose

For our last walk of 2011, Mirinda decided we’d all go to Hankley. Although grey and grim, it was still very beautiful. Oddly, a lot of other dog walkers must have thought the same thing because we saw more people than we normally do.

Sadly we also saw (and, even sadder, heard) a couple of trail bike riders ruining everyone’s day but their own. Still, what can you do. In a free society, those that wish to ruin have as much right as those that wish to enjoy. Personally, I think the army should use them for sniper practice.

It was also Carmen’s first long walk and she managed very well although a good deal slower and more considered than of old. I think Day-z was a bit frustrated at the lack of pace.

Speaking of Day-z, Mirinda spent an hour with the dog brush, making her look like a huge, black cotton wool ball. She looks more like a Bichon Frise than a poodle! Mirinda described her as looking like a big puddle of fluff.

Day-z shows off her bouffant

She now looks twice the size of Carmen who is normally the butterball around here.

This morning I was in the dining room, looking out at our wonderful path. There was an awful lot of action around the bird feeder. Gold finches, blue and great tits, green finches…they were all going crazy. I raced upstairs for the camera and telephoto lens. By the time I returned, they’d all gone off somewhere else.

I was a bit annoyed. Still, I stood around for a bit, just in case they decided to unexpectedly return. The big mob didn’t but this little fellow did.

Siskin coming into land

I had no idea what he was but I knew I hadn’t photographed him before so I just went mad and snapped away. He was quite helpful and stuck around for a bit.

He is a siskin which is a type of finch. Mirinda tells me that they are quite frequent visitors during winter.

Siskin in portrait pose

It’s New Year’s eve as I write this, which reminds me of something I read the other day. I’m presently reading Agincourt (a book about the lead up to the battle, the battle and the aftermath) and I read the following in a section where the author was explaining the difficulties giving precise dates for historic events.

Throughout the Middle Ages, the Church, which preferred to start the year with one of its major Christian festivals, successfully opposed attempts to revert to the pagan Roman practice of beginning the year on 1 January. Even though the spread of Protestantism in the sixteenth century gave it renewed credibility, it was not formally adopted in England as New Year’s Day until 1 January 1752.
[Barker J 2010, Agincourt, Hatchett Digital, p213-214]

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?

There is something terribly satisfying about renewing an old bathroom top. It’s also very, very messy. Three hours to strip it, half an hour to stain it, an hour to clean up afterwards. I still have the varnishing to go but that has to wait for the stain to finish staining properly. I have to keep reminding myself not to turn the tap on seeing as the bowl is presently in the hallway.

Sanding the bathroom top

Mind you, it’s an excellent job for when the weather is foul, as it was all day. I am really glad it wasn’t as miserable yesterday – would have ruined the cricket! Mirinda asked me if they still play cricket when it’s raining. This was rather surprising because she’s never shown an interest in cricket before. I admit, I did laugh a bit.

In an amazing bit of news, Mirinda bought Day-z a new celebration toy yesterday. Actually, she bought four but she can only get one in her mouth at a time. She ran and found it when I arrived home last night. She seems to have forgotten her old one (in two bits). We think because the new one has a squeak that works.

In fact, this morning, she ran outside with her new toy and tripped over her old one. She stopped, looked back at it, thought about it for about a millisecond then ignored it as she ran outside with the new one squeaking dementedly in her mouth.

A new celebration toy for Day-z

So my day was filled with brown dust, smelly stain, Day-z squeaking and not much else. I did quite like the effect of the rain on the gladdies so include this photo.

I should add that it wasn’t really this bright – I used the flash!

And, of course, I can’t forget the best news of the day – Claire ate jelly today!!!!

Last night I was cooking dinner and the doorbell summoned me away from the kitchen. My first thought was that Mirinda had somehow managed to arrive two hours early but this was impossible. I opened the front door to find a pair of Shirley Temples eagerly beaming up at me, a plastic bag held out in front of them.

“We’d like to sell you these potatoes,” the older one said with a wide grin.
“And how much are you selling them for?” I asked, bemused.
“For free. We’re selling them for free!” She thought this was a brilliant jape as she thrust the plastic bag at me.
“Genius price,” I noted as I took the bag.
“We had far too many in our garden so we’re giving them away.”
“Why, thank you. I’m sure they’ll be delicious.”

They left, skipping down the road, another plastic bag ready for our neighbours.

The thing is, they are very small and there’s only enough for one person. I can see these two little girls helping mum and/or dad plucking them eagerly from the ground but then saying there’s too many for them to eat and worrying about it as they start to sort them out at the kitchen table. One of them suddenly has a brilliant idea; divide them all up into individual bags and spread the bounty throughout the neighbourhood.

Obviously, mum and/or dad would have thought this was a wonderfully generous thing to do and encouraged them. I agree and think it was really lovely. The trouble is, in an effort to be as fair as possible, the amount of potatoes per house was very small. And, given the fact that the potatoes were small as well…well, there’s barely a mouthful for each recipient.

In my case that’s fine. I would have eaten them last night except I had already prepared couscous to go with my coconut curry (I love mixing ethnic dishes) but I can have them tomorrow night when Mirinda is off gallivanting around London.

Tiny Taters

To give you a guide…they are on a saucer! The white bit is where the cup goes. They are real Tiny Taters.

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Today we decided to go up to the Devil’s Punchbowl to see how much better it is now the A3 is closed. Apart from the fact that you can’t even walk along the old road – something we really wanted to do – it’s fantastic. Hardly any traffic and virtually no noise. We, and about three thousand others, had a delightful walk. The poodles rather liked it as well.

Actually it was here, many years ago, that Day-z tried to run over a cattle grid and came a cropper. Carmen was running so fast, she just raced across the top of it. Following on her heels, Day-z mistimed her front feet and one paw went between the metal struts and she went tumbling. She tumbled and she screamed.

She screamed like her foot had been cut off. She wouldn’t stop screaming until I picked her up and soothed her. People thought we were abusing our dog. It was terribly embarrassing.

We wanted to see if they remembered the cattle grid. Of course they don’t run quite as much these days and are a little more careful about where they tread but, even so, Day-z did give the grid a cautious sniff before walking around it.

The Devil's Punchbowl, Surrey

On the way back to the car, Carmen decided she quite fancied whatever was being served in the National Trust cafe and it was only because Mirinda noticed her disappearing into the depths that we knew where she’d gone and could retrieve her. It’s my opinion that this is where she acquired her sudden love for shortbread.

At home, Mirinda suddenly produced a packet of macadamia shortbread. To my knowledge, Carmen has never had shortbread or macadamia nuts but it was like she could read the packet. She was up and staring intently at the box before Mirinda even unwrapped it. Maybe she’s learnt to read. Whatever it was, she went a bit manic for a bit. Very odd.

I mean I can leave a plate of sausages sitting on the coffee table in the lounge while I get something from the kitchen and all I have to say to the dogs is to ‘stay’ and they do. They may try and stare down the sausages but they never come close to them. But shortbread…it’s way beyond me.

And what has happened to the gladiolus? It’s really starting to push through, that’s what!

Gladiolus - day seven

Today I took my weeding tools to the front garden and driveway. While it’s only a very small space, it’s amazing how many weeds grow between the bricks and through the gravel. Of course, there’s also the wisteria, which is a pretty big job, requiring the extension ladder and a good deal of courage.

I was joined by the poodles. Carmen is usually very good. She just finds a spot near me, collapses and sleeps. Day-z, on the other hand, has a bad habit of going for a stroll either up or down the street. I try and keep an eye on them but sometimes she sneaks off regardless. Like today.

I suddenly realised she wasn’t anywhere near me – Carmen had decided it was cooler in the house and was stretched out on the parquetry floor – so I raised myself from my knees and had a look around.

She wasn’t anywhere around Sidney. She wasn’t in the lounge or the back garden. I walked out the front and look down the road. She wasn’t there. I turned and looked towards the park. A little, black, fluffy figure was walking slowly, but deliberately, up to the steps.

I merely spoke her name and she stopped. I said “Come here,” and she turned around and just as slowly and deliberately, returned to the house as if nothing unusual had taken place. If it had been Carmen she would have that terribly-guilty-but-very-very-sorry look on her face.

Of course that was only once, for most of the time they both lay in the shade created by Sidney. It was very hot today and they were a bit puffy with it. In fact they were there when I suddenly leapt up and started swearing while waving my hand around.

I’d been working under the giant lavender, pulling up the nasty acid green weeds when a rotten bee stung me. Straight into the back of my hand. Bastard! I suppose it’s not exactly surprising – the giant lavender was positively alive with insects, buzzing around my head, occasionally warning me with sudden swoops into my head.

If nothing else, it proved I’m not allergic to bee stings. Not that it’s the first time I’ve ever been stung…but you never know.

A camera shy bumblebee on the giant lavender

I hasten to add that I didn’t get stung by one of these cute and cuddly critters. No, it was one of those horrid honey bees that just love to have a go at me.

It reminds me of the time I was walking the dogs in the fields opposite the cottage, when we lived there. Just below Wally’s house were three or four bee hives. They’d never been a problem before so I just happily walked by as I always did. Unfortunately, I walked straight along the official bee flight path just as they started to return from a days pollen collecting. I saw them coming, like a dark avenging angel, swooping towards me, intent on my destruction.

I’m not proud…I ran like a lunatic. The dogs thought it was great fun, running along with me, jumping and barking at the funny little flying things. I say I was running like a lunatic and I mean it. I was frantically waving my hands and arms around my face, knees climbing high as I stepped because of the ploughed furrows in the field I would normally skirt. Finally I fell, rolling around a few times, the dogs joining in, playfully.

I’d managed to escape, unscathed. It was while I was trying to fend off the dogs that one persistent bee saw his opportunity and stabbed me in the arm. The only joy I took from this experience was that the bee died. I like to think that is justice.

But enough of that unpleasantness…the fuchsias in the hanging basket were all looking rather pretty today so, for Mirinda, who always does such an expert job planting up the baskets, I thought I’d better show some.

Fuchsia hanging from a basket

And of course, I can’t resist a gladdy update…

Gladiolus - day two

Carmen hates hot air balloons (of course, being a French poodle, she calls them Montgolfiers). She grew to hate them while growing up at Alton where they regularly coasted above our cottage. What she hates most is the noise they make when the big burners are set off. She goes crazy.

A while ago we had one come down in the park not far from us and, as it almost skimmed the back fence, Carmen barked and showed her considerable displeasure by trying to stare it down.

Given the weather recently, we haven’t had a lot of balloon activity so Carmen’s sleep has only been disturbed by run of the mill things like other dogs getting out of cars, the people either side of us walking in the gardens, cats, squirrels and her sister.

This afternoon I was weeding (the sun actually came out for a bit and we only had one bout of rain at lunchtime), listening to the birds and insects buzzing around me when Carmen started going off. She was standing on the patio table, facing the Crazies’ house. I figured it was a cat – there’s one which regularly sits on the fence, teasing her. But no cat was in evidence. And then I suddenly realised what it was.

The Crazies are having some work done down the side of their house. Getting a window replaced or something. For the last two days there’s been a young guy there drilling and bashing and generally making working noises while dodging the rain. Today he was joined by a guy who I presumed is his boss (he was older and told him what to do).

He (the older chap) was standing at the top of a ladder with a heat gun, sealing the window (I think). The noise made by the heat gun was exactly like a hot air balloon and it was this that Carmen was barking at.

The guy turned and looked at Carmen, asking her what she was barking at. I told him it was the noise, that she didn’t like hot air balloons, thinking this probably sounded most peculiar.

“Ah, right. Yeah, mine does the same. Hates them,” he said.

Anyway, that was about it for excitement today.

Talking to mum on the phone, she asked for photos of the garden. She likes the flower close ups but wants to get a sense of the whole thing. So, for mum…and so Mirinda can keep an eye on her garden as well.

From the study

This is the garden taken from Mirinda’s study window. On the left, about halfway up, you may see some tiny red spots. These are the snapdragons. In the bottom right hand corner is the twisted hazel and the big purple rose bush.

The patio pots

The patio just outside the kitchen window. Lots of colour from geraniums and lobelia. These are Mirinda’s pots. The herb table is also looking very full. This was taken before I weeded!

Did I say we only one bout of rain? As I sit here typing, it just started pouring again. Bloody weeds will just grow more.

The hot border

The hot border from the back of the new border that has little in it at the moment. The lavatera on the right is Carmen’s and is the other side of the big one. The blue trug is for the weeds I was digging up. It’s on its side because of the sudden rain shortly before this shot was taken.

Verbena

We were despairing that the verbena wasn’t growing (it did suffer in the snow last year) but it has come up just not as thickly this time. That’s the long stalks with the tiny purple flowers on top. This is the other side of the patio. The little yellow buttons of the cotton lavender can be seen as well as a stray orange crocosmia against the fence. The purple lavender has all fallen over because the dogs love running between it and the fence when the cat is teasing them. While it makes the lavender look a bit messy, the dogs end up smelling beautiful.

And a final shot of Day-z in her favourite place – sitting on a window sill, staring out at the world. This is in Mirinda’s study and where I tend to find her when I’m working upstairs.

Day-z at the window