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!

There’s a dog we sometimes see in the park who has something wrong with his back legs. I might have posted about him before. His owner’s have rigged up a wheelchair for him so he can still go for walks in the park. The poodles always leave him alone which is strangely empathic of them. Anyway, we saw him today and I managed to get a photograph.

Looking wistfully at the poodles as they frolic on four legs

He always seem very happy, trundling along behind his humans. They have another dog which has the use of all of it’s legs, which bounces around all over the place.

Speaking of bouncing…this little chap suddenly appeared out of no where and surprised the girls. He looks a wee bit manic if you ask me.

Come on! Take the ball! I dare ya!

After Day-z had run away, Carmen went over to say hello and they (sort of) did a bit of socialising, though Carmen is never too sure what to do.

I'll just check that you're a girl...

That was about it for today (apart from an agonisingly dull amount of time spent on the accounts) so I thought I might talk about the Sublime Society of Beefsteaks.

It all started in 1735 in (where else?) London. There’s a few thoughts about how it started but the one I’ve chosen to go with is this: This guy called John Rich was, more or less, too busy to go home to eat so he’d sit in his office in the Covent Garden Theatre. he had a simply little gridiron upon which he would sear his beefsteaks. A friend of his, George Lambert thought this a jolly sort of jape and wanted to join in. So they decided to make it a regular thing.

Very quickly word managed to move around those that listen to these sorts of things and soon they were entertaining quite a few publicans, actors, dancers, painters, etc. “Visitors ‘of the first consideration, both in rank and talents’ called on him, and were invited to share in his beef.” And they all decided to form themselves into a club. They made all sorts of rules but the mainstay of the Beefsteakers was simplicity of fare. This meant they just ate beef steaks when the society met.

Word soon spread even further and suddenly, the toffs wanted in. A new rule was created. Anyone with pretensions to grandeur must serve as butlers to those that did not. The toffs all thought this was great fun so, each meeting, they would remove their costly coats, top hats and gloves and hand out beef steaks to the smelly masses of theatre folk.

The society lasted for many, many years and had some very well known members – William Hogarth, John Wilkes, John Montagu, fourth earl of Sandwich. In fact it was probably Wilkes who came up with the motto “Beef and Liberty”. They even had special songs they’d sing at meetings, Roast Beef of Old England being their traditional hymn. This was superseded by The Song of the Day. Here’s some of the lyrics:

No more shall fame expand her wings
To sounds of heroes, states or kings
A nobler flight the goddess takes
To praise our British beef in steaks
A joyful theme for Britons free
Happy in beef and liberty
A joyful theme for Britons free
Happy in beef and liberty

And so it goes. If you want to hear a recording of it, there’s one here – just click the little play symbol when it appears.

There’s another three verses, all praising the joys of beef. And all of this is absolutely true.

When I read this sort of thing, firstly I’m so glad I’m English, secondly, I begin to wonder whether Monty Python’s Flying Circus was really comedy and thirdly, I really, really want to join!

Another Talking Newspaper today, so it was off early to pick up the papers and start my editing. Since I was there on my own for the first hour, I thought I’d get a photo of the studio.

Where I sometimes 'work'

I sit in the right front, where the smaller bit of paper is while the engineer sits to my right, in front of all the equipment. The engineer has two chairs and uses the far one as a table. The three readers sit the other side of the desk. It’s very cosy though today it was quite cold because I hadn’t turned the heaters on. But that wasn’t my only mistake.

When we make a mistake (a stumble or just plain stuff it up) we are supposed to say ‘sorry’ and then go back to the beginning of the sentence. This gives the engineer something to edit out which retains the smooth flow of the recording. We have to keep picking up some of the readers on it because they just stumble and repeat the word. For this reason, quite a few stumbles remain in the recording, which is a shame.

Having been an actor, I’m quite used to saying ‘sorry’ and going back to the beginning of the sentence, so I don’t usually have any problem with it. Also because I was once an actor, my language sometimes leaves a lot to be desired.

Each time I go into the studio I go through a mental check-list, the final point is not to swear. It’s a mantra: “I must not swear. I must not swear.” Apart from the average age of my fellow volunteers, I’m also acutely aware that most of them are active church goers who might not be used to a course Australian who grew up in Sydney’s western suburbs.

I also write my own sports report which I scribble out before going in to record. My handwriting, at the best of times, is pretty abysmal, but when I’m in a hurry, it looks a little like drunk Sanskrit seen through ink blots. Normally this is fine but today, for some reason, I kept stumbling. Three times I stumbled, each time saying ‘Sorry’ and going back to the start of the sentence like the good boy I am. At one stage I said “I can’t read my own writing!” which had the others chuckling.

The fourth time I stumbled was on the word ‘control’ which I thought said ‘coumjhuy’ or something like that. Of course, I stopped. I blame the frustration with my continual lack of coherent penmanship but I said “shit“! I then quickly said sorry about thirty times. Sue, the engineer, laughing incredulously, took note of the position of the recording and I continued, finishing without any more hiccoughs.

Afterwards, we all had a jolly good laugh at my stumbling and I once more apologised for swearing. Sue then asked if I’d like to keep it in the recording. The others thought this hilarious. Sue then explained herself, saying she meant the bit about my inability to read my own writing not me saying shit.

Rough as guts, Gaz, strikes again, I’m afraid. Still, Sue will edit my foul mouth out of the recording and just leave my observations on my own failings. So, hopefully, all will be well. As long as she does!

Anyway, after getting home, the sun was shining so we popped up to the park. While the sun didn’t last and we were eventually drizzled on by a sudden spring-like shower, we saw quite a few other dogs and their owners.

We met up with Leonard, the big white dog. The one the poodles demur to. Here he is with a woman who’s not his owner. He was actually quite interested in her four dogs. He’s generally pretty sedate but he was acting quite playful today. The girls, of course, ignored him.

Leonard, the big white dog

They didn’t ignore a little chocolate brown King Charles spaniel that stopped in front of them and laid down for them to have a good sniff. They were so intent on sniffing and picking on him that they failed to notice he had a mate who had been checking out the woods. The first they knew was when a streak of black and brown came pouncing onto them. It was hilarious. The spaniels’ owner and I burst out laughing as the poodles scattered under the now even numbers. They really are pathetic.

I saw (and heard) lots of birds but they were either too far away or I had to put the camera away because of the rain. I did manage to get the robin again, still yapping away.

I know you're watching me but I just don't care

I saw four deer in the park today. Since living in our house, I’ve probably seen four separate deer in the park. I’ve read there are a quantity of wild deer living in the amongst the trees but it’s quite rare to see them.

You can generally see where they’ve been. When the grasses have grown (particularly in places like Badger Wood), the evidence of their night’s sleep is all to obvious. According to the park ranger, the evidence of their feeding can also be seen on new tree growth around the park.

Generally when I’ve spotted them, they’ve been surprised out of a wooded area, bursting into the open, before darting away at breakneck speed. The way they leap as they run is wonderful to watch even though it does indicate they are scared. I once saw one take a leap into the back gardens along the path. They are amazingly agile creatures.

The poodles never seem to notice them (they are usually quite a distance away, which probably explains a lot, given the poodles can’t see squirrels which sit a few feet from their noses), which is a good thing. I’m sure they’d run after them and forget to come back.

And then, today, while walking to one of the ponds to, maybe, get a picture of a kingfisher, two of them were grazing not 20 feet from us. I’d walked passed before realising what I was looking at. The poodles were off sniffing something so I slowly walked back and, hidden behind a handy fallen tree, I snapped a couple of photos – I LOVE my telephoto lens.

One of them spotted me but figured I wasn’t a threat and continued eating. They were female roe deer (so I’ve been reliably informed) and looked just like Bambi. I felt quite lucky. It’s not that deer are particularly rare but generally they are in managed herds while these are wild.

Roe deer, grazing happily

I spent a good half hour waiting at the pond but nothing even remotely bird-like visited. I had the poodles on their lead as we watched and waited. Day-z sat next to me on the bench and Carmen just watched from the ground. They are pretty good when it comes to bird watching as long as nothing appears to distract them.

Anyway, eventually we gave up and headed further along the path to the big meadow. And then, on the horizon and heading towards us, I spotted two big red deer. A stately buck, his antlers big and cumbersome and, I assume, his doe.

I put the dogs’ lead back on and waited between a couple of trees, camera ready.

All was going well as they slowly made their way down the hill towards us. I followed them through the lens, ready to snap if they took flight. I noticed, out of the corner of my eye, a woman and her dog approaching from behind me they eventually turned down a track moving away from the deer. Her collie didn’t see them.

Suddenly a wild yapping started as a big Labrador came bounding over the hill from behind the deer. The deer looked up quickly then fled like the wind. Interestingly, they took off in opposite directions, the doe heading across the meadow and the buck leaping a fence into some trees.

Having arrived at the spot where the deer had been, the dog stopped, no doubt confused by the sudden disappearance of its quarry. It looked left and right, unsure as to which way to chase.

I managed to get a couple of shots off as the doe ran away but it was all too far for anything decent. This was the best of them.

Run away! Run away!

I sighed and left the dog to its confusion and owner, who was approaching from behind, who clearly had no idea what had just happened.

So. Four deer comprising two species in two groups. That’s a record for me in one sighting. While it was a bit of a shame about the no-show kingfisher, my blip was in the bag.

However, while I didn’t photograph anything too exotic, I almost managed a good shot of a magpie in flight.

Escape by flight

All very quiet today, except in the garden. So, I moved the bird feeder closer to the back door just so I could assure Mirinda that all the birds were getting their fair share of food. Mind you, this green finch was pretty serious and determined. And I’m pretty sure he doesn’t like his photo being taken.

You lookin' at me?

I didn’t go to work today out of deference for my sore and sorry wrist. My main concern was keeping it free from accidental collisions on account of me being invisible. It was bad enough when I had the cast. I’d just crawl away and die if anyone bashed into it now.

So, the day was spent actively engaged in housework, dog walking and the usual trip to Waitrose where Julie told me off for doing too much and interrupting the healing process. That’s all well and good but I enjoy having a clean house and Carmen can’t quite reach the ornaments though Day-z is a dab hand at straightening the lounge covers.

The park was strangely empty except for a small puppy that looked suspiciously like a young miniature poodle and her owner. As we approached each other, the girls suddenly became quite interested (maybe they remembered their childhood selves). I was about to open a conversation so I could find out what the puppy was when a sudden white blur flashed between and the puppy took off after it.

The blur materialised into a very boisterous Labrador which had a lovely old time tumbling the puppy all over the place. At this stage the girls decided not to get involved so we turned off to avoid the wrestling match that was going on. We did find out the puppy’s name though. It was Molly.

And just to show it’s not all green finches around here…here’s a gold finch.

Why, hello there!

You really notice it when you lose the use of something you take for granted! For instance, I decided to take the dogs for a walk today (not just to ease their boredom) but I had to keep them on the lead. You may ask “why” and I would answer “FSI“. But not the FSI, per se. The fact is, I’d not be able to wash them afterwards. And I really do not want to think about how I’d dry them. Even so, it’s that easy to pick up Carmen’s poo one handed either.

The dogs, of course, were completely confused. Not unhappy, just confused. They looked at me beseechingly every time we saw a squirrel or they fancied chasing a crow. I apologised and tried to explain but they soon forgot it and moved on to the next thing that interested them.

Actually, I’ve felt a bit better today due, I think, to the fact that I managed to get a few strung together hours of sleep. Previous nights have consisted of an hour asleep followed by a few minutes readjusting my arm to ease the discomfort & pain. And repeated throughout the night. But last night I was more comfortable for longer periods and, therefore, I managed more sleep.

Also, having read a bit about my injury, I have elevated the arm for longer periods of time. This, apparently reduces any swelling. Which reminds me…I rarely remove my wedding ring so it was a bit of a shock when the doctor had me take it off immediately, saying the swelling may precipitate removal of the finger instead. I am now wearing it on my right hand and it feels a bit weird. My left hand doesn’t care because it feels weirder.

According to the doctor I saw at the hospital, I have a suspected Colles fracture which is not good. I will find out on Thursday whether I’ll need an operation or not. I’m hoping not…obviously.

Mind you, this may not be the case. I have been contacted by the hospital to say Thursday may not be required and the hand surgeon will see me in two weeks to see how it’s going! This does not fill me with confidence. The woman I spoke to is getting hold of the surgeon & then getting back to me so, who knows.

Before I talk about my extremely stressful day, I really must answer my mum’s comment. Dubstep is a type of music. According to Wikipedia it is a ‘genre of electronic dance music that originated in south London, England. Its overall sound has been described as “tightly coiled productions with overwhelming bass lines and reverberant drum patterns, clipped samples, and occasional vocals”.’ So now you know. I’m pretty sure you’d describe it as ‘noise’.

But, back to today. I’m not sure whether I’ve described how the Talking Newspaper day is organised so I’m going to. If it’s not news then skip this bit.

Because we read the papers for three different areas each Thursday, there are three shifts of readers, engineer and presenter. I really like Farnham because it’s the first one. It means I’m home nice and early and can get things done around the house that require the attention. My least favourite is the Alton papers because it’s last and I’m not home until 6pm. Mind you, what I generally do is complete any tasks before I leave. In the middle is Haslemere which gives me a bit of time either side.

So, basically, I have it pretty much sussed. I have my rostered times and days and go to the newspaper office, pick up the papers and then on to the studio. It’s always worked perfectly. I used the past tense deliberately.

Today I turned up at the newspaper office and asked for the papers only to be told that “David has already collected them.” This was odd. I asked a few times just to make sure it was the Haslemere papers and she told me same thing each time. I walked out of the office, a frown almost furrowing my brow.

I was undecided how to proceed. If I’d written down the wrong edition on the calendar then I could check at home on the master roster however, I could also check by walking to the studio (I was about halfway betwixt the two). My biggest fear was that if I had the time wrong then I might actually be down for the Alton slot. Or, worse still, there could have been changes that I didn’t know about. I dithered for a bit, drinking my Starbucks outside the Royal Mail exchange before deciding the best option was to walk to the studio and find out what the devil was going on.

And it was hot today! Even walking the dogs in the park this morning was warmer than it’s been for a while. This is quite annoying when it’s actually cold enough to put the central heating on at night. not that I do but I see that others would. Actually the walk was deeply embarrassing.

Sometimes, Day-z thinks she’s a dog. Rather than a bitch, I mean. I have no idea why or where she discovered this strange belief. She will hump her sister. Which really annoys Carmen. Particularly when she’s asleep. Which is most of the time.

The strangest thing is I have no idea where she found out how to do it. I mean they have never had sex with other dogs (I’m 99% certain) or, to my knowledge, actually noticed dogs having sex. Still, Day-z quite often manages to simulate it with her sister.

Generally, these displays of odd sisterly behaviour are confined to the house (and sometimes garden) but today, to my absolute horror, she did it in the park. And there were people everywhere. I was mortified! Though I’m pretty sure no-one realised they were both female, as I hurried them off into Badger’s Wood.

Anyway, that’s by the by. I wound up at the studio to find David happily cutting up the Haslemere papers smiling but confused when I turned up. I smiled back and grabbed the roster. No, I was right. I was slotted down for the Haslemere edition and his name was nowhere to be seen. And it was like a light bulb going off over his head.

He had made a swap with the presenter for the Alton paper but had written down Haslemere instead. Given there wasn’t much I could do, I volunteered to take his Alton and left him to his scissoring. I picked the papers up on the way back home.

This had seriously eaten into my time so I spent the hour I had cutting up the papers on the dining table before heading out again.

To cut this overly long story much shorter…I presented the Alton paper and didn’t manage to get home until 6pm, all my jobs neglected. I could have worked till dawn, slaving away or I could take the sensible option and not go to work tomorrow. I was sensible.

One good thing was the wonderful afternoon light as I walked home. This is the park bench just as you enter off Bear Lane.

Afternoon light in Farnham Park

And to be entirely fair, it’s not like I didn’t do anything today. I organised for a real estate agent to come over on Tuesday, I discussed the replacement of the side fence with our neighbour then purchased the panels to rebuild it, I rang up and corrected an order from the bird food place we use because they’d forgotten something and I walked the dogs.

Uncle Buster and Loris came over for a visit today. The plan was to go to the Six Bells for dinner but, in these hard economic times with customers eating at home, they no longer cook on Tuesdays (this follows on from no longer cooking on Monday as reported earlier on a Nicktor Night). I really think they should change the sign on the side of the building that states they cook every day! At least I had the sense to ring them before leaving home this time.

My visitors arrived shortly after 6pm and we sat outside with coffee, tea and Jaffa Cakes. I had to tell Uncle Buster off for feeding Carmen from the table. I told him he was in good company as I once had to admonish Claire for doing the same thing.

It might seem a harmless thing but it has made our lives so much easier. It means we can leave food within their reach and tell them to leave it and they actually will. They both have no idea that tables and food equate eating.

We made this mistake with Alice and Brad. A mistake which culminated in the devouring of the giant muffin after the Earnest after show party in Katoomba. Alice gained her ‘muffin tummy’ nickname after this form changing incident.

It’s terribly nice to have visitors who actively DO love dogs. Uncle Buster made firm friends with Carmen who is not known for her gregariousness. We have four chairs on the patio and Carmen thinks it’s only right that when there’s one free, she should sit on it. She sat next to Uncle Buster and didn’t leave him alone.

A lot of our visitors get a bit bored with fussing over the poodles but not Uncle Buster. I’m pretty certain the dogs realised they’d found a kindred spirit.

This meant we talked a lot about our respective dogs: The different ones over the years. I told them the story of Sailor bailing up dad when he first visited the family when he started going out with mum. Uncle Buster laughed and said he did that to everyone.

Having recovered from their drive, I told them the bad news about the Six Bells and suggested we go into Farnham where we’d have our pick of restaurants. It was then I discovered that Uncle Buster suffers from the old plain food only affliction.

Of course I suggested pizza which Loris insisted Uncle Buster wouldn’t like though she did. I then tried Indian but he’s gone off Indian. Eventually I suggested we just walk into town and see what’s what.

Loris asked me how far it was to walk and thought I said 50 minutes. She looked a bit doubtful until I assured her I’d said 15. We set off along the park path.

I’m afraid I gave them a bit of a history lesson as we walked. I’m always surprised by how many useless facts I’ve gathered over the years and, sometimes forget that not everyone is as interested in the minutiae of Farnham history as I am. Still, it was a lovely walk and, I hope, a bit informative.

As we came out onto Castle Street, I suggested we try the Nelson Arms which generally serves food and would surely be good and plain. I asked at the bar and yes, we were in luck, the chef was more than happy to cook our dinner.

The Nelson Arms is a lovely traditional English country pub even though it was refurbished a few years ago. The redecorating retained a lot of the appeal of the original and they serve some lovely beers from all sorts of breweries. Being a freehouse, they can serve anything. Tonight they had a couple of ales from the Andwell brewery which is quite near Crondall which is just up the road.

And the meal was lovely. Uncle Buster was happy in the security of sausage and mash (with bubble & squeak), Loris devoured an enormous plate of fish and chips (it was actually beer battered haddock which I maintained meant they killed the fish by bashing it over the head with a beer bottle) while I had a delicious pork belly on mustard mash. All washed down with a few pints of King John (which Uncle Buster insisted on calling King Arthur).

The full(ish) moon lit our way back along the park path, the eerie sounds of feral children out far too late annoying the badgers in the woods, followed us from a safe distance. Back at home Loris had a coffee (she was driving) before they left, much to the disappointment of the dogs. Actually, that’s an exaggeration. Day-z came out to see them off but Carmen didn’t bother waking up, although she did briefly open an eye to see what the fuss was about.

Uncle Buster, Loris and Gaz

[with apologies to Gerald Durrell]

It was an odd day of heavy showers and brilliant sunshine; just perfect for housework. However, in terms of dog walking, timing was crucial.

Like Henri Charrière, counting waves, I roughly worked out the optimum time to harness the girls up and head for the park. We avoided getting wet and enjoyed a lovely sun drenched walk. Naturally we were careful to time the walk in order to get home before the next downpour – we made it by five minutes.

Given we were on a rather tight schedule, we decided to walk the length of the Avenue of Trees, admire the castle then back via Badgers Wood. At the beginning of the Avenue, is a small wood where the dogs always hurtle towards in the vague hope of finding something to chase (I assume) and today was no different. They flew like puppies and were gone within seconds.

As I kept walking – they always come out further down and meet me – I noticed a ginger cat, lying by a bench, soaking up the rays of the sun. It happened to be in the exact spot where the girls emerged from the wood. And so it was that to guide it, Carmen came belting out, running mere inches from the cat.

Clearly the cat had heard her coming and had pricked up its ears and lifted its head just as Carmen burst out of the undergrowth. It was on its feet instantly, looking left and right, weighing up its choices. Then, suddenly it leapt away, into the gap that Carmen had just vacated.

Meanwhile, Carmen had slammed on her brakes and was staring at the place the cat had just recently vacated. She looked around, wondering whether she had been hallucinating, deciding she hadn’t and raced back into the woods after the cat. I whistled and waited.

There were no screeches or hissing or barking and, eventually, Carmen burst out again, racing towards me, tail wagging like an outboard motor turned up to full. She reached me and jumped up, as if she’d won first prize at Crufts. I patted her and smiled, bemused as Day-z wandered out of the woods, having missed all the fun of the chase.

A few dogs crossed our path on the way to the castle and each time, the poodles barked then immediately backed off as the dogs stared them down. They are so anti-social!

Just before the castle, they spotted a squirrel sitting in the middle of the Avenue. They raced towards it, the squirrel watching them intently until the last moment when it dashed up a tree which was very close. Normally the poodles will run straight by any tree where a squirrel has taken shelter and end up at another one, staring up and wagging their tails, terribly pleased with their stupidity.

Today, however, they stopped at the right tree and just stood and watched as the squirrel climbed higher. As it went from branch to branch, the moved around the base of the tree, looking up, following its progress intently.

I stood and watched as they watched. I then noticed a movement further down the hill and watched a young deer emerge from the nettles. It stood, completely exposed, looking left and right, seemingly unsure of what to do. I slowly reached for the camera but it was a wake up to such privacy invasion and started running towards a large copse of trees.

Carmen somehow spotted the movement and was off. It was the funniest thing watching this tiny black dog hell bent on running down a deer. I’m not sure if she thought too much about the impossibility of her prey but it wasn’t slowing her up and she vanished into the trees scant seconds behind the deer.

Day-z suddenly realised her sister was gone. She looked left and right, confused. I pointed towards the trees and she was off in an effort to bring up reinforcement from the rear.

Now, I have no idea what went on in the copse of trees but I can say that a deer and two small poodles went in but only the poodles came back out. They were very puffed, tongues lolling, breathing like sprinters at the end of 100 metres.

The walk back was pretty peaceful until a whippet ran across Carmen’s path in Badgers Wood. She was too dazed to do anything…or perhaps she was just too exhausted to go for yet another run after a quarry she’d never catch. She just watched as it disappeared further into the woods.

We made it home and the heavens opened once more.

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!