The House Husband

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

I can safely say, without fear of contradiction that hornbeam blossom cannot be cleared away with a broom. It has a sort of magnet thing going on. As a broom approaches, it flies away in the opposite direction. Clearly this is an evolutionary attribute. The seed, in danger of being swept into a bin has evolved to move away until the broom gets bored and sweeps up something a little more substantial, like dust.

Fortunately man has evolved a thing called a vacuum cleaner. Hornbeam blossom doesn’t stand a chance against even the softest of suction. Of course, one has to be careful about releasing the prey back into the wild upon the opening of the vacuum cleaner for emptying purposes as this can reverse all the good work. It’s quite amusing to watch them all scatter as soon as a whiff (not even a whiff; a mini-whiff is enough) of air touches them. Two hands just aren’t enough to catch them all.

I am, however, no broom and easily bored by a flighty prey, and like the hunter that we all are, deep down in our tribal memory banks, I sucked it all up again. Given that man can reason and has a quite handy memory, I could then be very, very careful the next time I opened up the cage.

But enough of such nonsense…today was mostly spent cleaning up (and not just blossom though there was an awful lot of it which, fortunately, hadn’t taken seed) with a phone call to mum and dad, a bit of shopping and a walk in the park thrown in.

Speaking of the park…I snapped these two photos of the poodles looking gorgeous and do not see any reason why I should keep them to myself.

Day-z the Proud

Carmen the Cutie

I’m getting quite keen on embedding video in blog posts. So, today, we have an odd little film about Day-z.

I called her and then started filming. She came to me then turned straight back to Mirinda when she realised I wasn’t serious. The thing is, Mirinda had a bowl of cereal. Day-z is quite committed to bowls of cereal. A little later in the day, following study and gardening, she watched me intently from Mirinda’s knee.

Day-z keeping a keen eye out for the appearance of anything edible

I’m not sure what she was expecting but she didn’t get it.

It was Good Friday today. Everything was open in Farnham (albeit some establishments opened later than usual) so it was just like any other day. This is quite good for an atheist. Easter Sunday, on the other hand, is going to be a right pain because everything will be closed. This means I have to plan food a day ahead. This is not something I enjoy.

And there was a lot of religious hoo ha on the radio. Radio 4 seemed to highlight Jesus every time I turned it on and then, in the afternoon while I was gardening, and before I fell asleep in the sun listening to the football, I switched to Radio 4 Extra and what was on? The bloody Life of Jesus! And so I put the football on (Crystal Palace and…someone else) and then fell asleep it was so interesting. Naturally I’m blaming Radio 4 for not finishing in the garden.

Talking of religious appropriation…today I went looking for a simnel cake. I’d never heard of them but Mirinda had some during the week and loved it. I was despatched to find some. I didn’t and so I’m going to make one tomorrow but that’s not the point. It seems that simnel cake has become yet another symbol of Easter.

Originally made in Medieval times, young girls in service would bake a simnel cake for their mothers and take it to them on Mothering Sunday. Since appropriation, eleven little balls of marzipan have been added to the top. These represent the eleven apostles, Judas being left out because he was a little too interested in money. Actually I’ve never been convinced with Judas committing suicide. It seems very unlikely and highly suspicious.

No-one knows why the simnel cake is called a simnel cake. The best anyone can come up with is that it derives from the Latin word simila, meaning fine, wheaten flour which was used in making it. Why the church decided to steal the idea and make it their own is anyone’s guess but it probably involves treachery and an attempt at boosting attendance with a familiar symbol.

Speaking of Easter traditions…I listened, agape (one of the guys Mirinda works with is a total gaper and I just love the idea) the other day while one of the girls in Starbucks related for us the Czech version of Easter. Apparently (and I’ve verified it elsewhere) the boys in her village would go around with these light whips and try and whip the girls legs in exchange for chocolate (it was eggs originally but, understandably, people prefer chocolate now). It was seen as an indication of how gorgeous you were if a lot of boys whipped you a lot. However, the biggest and bestest was if they grabbed you and threw you in the river. Nice.

Now the rabbits I understand when it comes to Easter. It is, after all, a festival time to celebrate the renewal that arrives with spring. For some reason, rabbits popping out and nibbling away at the new growth is a strong springtime image. And eggs as well. Obviously the result of springtime friskiness by the birds. A lot of countries have eggs as Easter symbols.

But why did they become chocolate? When was it considered a good thing to introduce confection to both the Rite of Spring and the Death of Jesus? I love chocolate as much as any other normal person but really…I don’t see it. Was it a fiendish piece of marketing genius by Cadbury’s back in Victorian times? I could probably find out by Googling “why do we have chocolate eggs at Easter” but I’m not going to. I like to think it’s a big conspiracy by the capitalist overlords, perpetrated on the poor and weak. That’s more fun.

Carmen trying to resist my hugging her

I’m just going to finish with this delightfully affectionate photograph of me hugging Carmen. She is clearly enjoying it a LOT!

Well, I am flabbergasted. Yesterday’s post received 60 hits (I generally average about 20, what with all the Jenny Agutter searching that goes on) because of the fatality. Searches to find out what happened all pointed to my blog post because there was no other up-to-date information regarding the incident. That says more about South West Trains and how they like to keep their customers informed than it does about me, I’m sure.

Anyway, that was yesterday (I can only bask for so long in past glories) and this is today. Another jewel of a day with horizon to horizon blue skies and the temperature in the early 20s. The type of day that simply makes a spring. It also makes people smile more.

I had an early Talking Newspaper so was off to the studio before I’d actually woken up. That may be a slight exaggeration but I did have quite a late night waiting for Mirinda to get in after seeing Keira. She reports that the play was very good, Keira Knightly surprisingly so with the other actress better. Ben spent the whole time trying to look up Keira’s dress, which indicates the depth of his theatrical appreciation…I guess.

Starting again…I left early for the Talking Newspaper because this week I was going to read the sports! This job which everyone hates, was one I was really looking forward to. Basically I took all the sports stories that involved (or mentioned) Farnham and Aldershot and wrote an entire story including all of them. I had five minutes to fill and, I think, managed. I was pleased with it although it was difficult keeping the time because I was on the other side of the desk to the counter that indicates time elapsed. I had to make do with Sue, the engineer, gesticulating frantically at me that I was drawing close to the end.

Speaking of Sue (my favourite engineer), she really put the kibosh on the recording when she stated, right at the beginning, that we were such a good team of readers that we’d have no interruptions and everything would go really, really smoothly. She couldn’t have been more wrong.

From the first sentence, things went wrong. There were stumbles, missed timings, coughs and, the best mistake ever, Bridget kept cracking up.

We have a columnist in the local paper called Frank Scribe. Nearly every week he’ll write a few paragraphs about different subjects that take his fancy and, generally, complain about things. When we had looked at them, I took the football/cricket story not noticing the content of the others. Bridget had one on dogging at a local spot on the Hogs Back.

It was just like a blooper reel. Every time she started reading, she would just crack up. It was hilarious. All of us were in stitches by the time she announced she was going to give up and read something else. She handed me the dogging piece and asked me to read it. Which I did. In one way it’s a pity all of her laughing has to be edited out. It really was very funny.

When we finished and left the studio, the next group gave us a lot of funny looks and asked what all the commotion had been. We feigned innocence as we left. Poor Sue will have had quite a job cleaning the recording up. We apologised profusely.

Given that my wife insists, I stopped off for my pint at the Nelson’s Arms before going home to the crazy poodles who insisted on a walk. Which we took and met Rocky, a lapso poodle cross.

I was amazed. He looked exactly like the girls. I thought he was a poodle as well. I walked with his owner halfway around the park and we chatted about our dogs for a pleasant half hour. Interestingly when she bought Rocky, her husband didn’t want a dog. She surprised him with Rocky and the two have formed such a strong bond that now she is generally left out of their secret world of master and dog. Anyway, this could be a nice option to add to the ‘next dog’ mix.

I realise that I nearly always feature Carmen in the blog but rarely manage a shot of Day-z. But not today. Here’s a shot of her looking like she’s just woken up. Who am I kidding…she had just woken up after I called her name.

Day-z jolted from a dream about her celebration toy magically becoming whole again