The House Husband

I was sitting in the office, checking out a website for Mirinda when Carmen started her usual barking at something she couldn’t see. She didn’t stop, so I went into the bedroom to see what she was trying to frighten off. At the top of the road, two young boys were putting their scooters through their paces. As is only natural, they were making a lot of noise doing it.

The window is too high for Carmen to see out of it so I picked her up and showed her. Above the houses across the road I watched as a huge black cloud approached. I told Carmen we were lucky we’d just finished our walk as it looked like more rain was on the way.

Again, today, the weather has been a rolling succession of wet and dry so I expected another shower before more sun. I put Carmen back on the bed and walked back into the study just as it started. Only it wasn’t rain. It was deafening and it was hail.

The house grew very dark as I grabbed my camera and went into the spare room. The dogs weren’t far behind me, huddling next to me as the thunder started, vying for audial supremacy. Outside, the hail was bouncing off the kitchen roof. I opened the window and managed to get a few shots of it bouncing off the tiles.

Glad we weren't outside

We watched as the back garden turned to white. It looked like snow, quickly covering the grass, the path, the herb table, everything. I’m surprised birds weren’t knocked out of the air in the ferocity. And then, just as suddenly as it had arrived, it stopped. I went back into the bedroom to look down the street, the dogs almost walking on my feet.

The hail aftermath

I searched for the two boys, expecting them to be spattered all over the road, but they were nowhere to be seen. I hope they managed to find shelter, otherwise they are going to bed with massive headaches tonight. The dogs didn’t leave me alone for a good hour after the storm had gone.

One little creature that would have been safe and secure was our little mother robin who has taken up residence in the bird box that some previous owner of our house put up on the wall between us and next door. A little earlier I managed to snap her sitting on her nest. I really hope she was there when the hail struck.

You can just see her little face to the left of the branch in the centre

Another day of rain and sun intertwined. I wasn’t so lucky though. Midway through weeding the gravel (where once my herb table stood) I was drenched when the blue sky was suddenly confounded by black, bulbous clouds which decided the weight of water inside was just too much to hold onto. So, like a man at the cricket after 18 pints of beer, it fell freely and without mercy.

The morning started off well enough. I walked Mirinda to the station early as she had a meeting in town and then had my usual at Starbucks. (Actually, yesterday the young barista asked me when I first had hazelnut in my coffee so I told him the story of the small place in Katoomba that introduced us to its nutty delights.) Fortunately I didn’t see Julie at Waitrose.

She’s having a really torrid time at work and threatens to make me miserable each time I talk to her. To be honest, she whispers so as not to be overheard which means I only hear about every fourth word. Most of the time I have no idea what she’s saying so just grunt sympathetically. I think ,in all the time I’ve been talking to her, she’s only ever been happy twice. One of those times was when she thought she’d managed to find employment at another shop, only to be miserable the next day because she was unsuccessful.

Back at home, I managed to ring Mum and Dad (as opposed to yesterday when the phone company we use for international calls had to fix a dodgy router) and we chatted for ages before I headed out into the garden.

I planted hornimums (which are actually Salvia horminun) in the orange crate bed where we usually plant them, having removed a load of gravel and dead leaves and generally preparing the soil. I then started on the weeds.

During one beautifully sunny interval after lunch, I took the poodles to the park. There was a lot of people taking advantage of the momentary lack of rain. One group included about five kids and one mother (who was eventually joined by a second one). They were all playing cricket with a tennis ball. Poor mum was in the out field so every time one of the kids slogged a the ball, she’d have to run and get it. At one stage, the ball came towards me so I bent down, picked it up and threw it back to her.

Now, I’m not going to lambaste all women for not being able to catch (basically because it’s patently not true) but this woman was hopeless. She closed her hands around where the ball had been seconds before and it dropped at her feet. She thanked me and picked it up, taking to the kid who was bowling rather than throw it to him.

A little while later they had decided to kick a rugby ball around. One of the kids hoofed it and the poor mum had to go and retrieve it. The way she was holding the ball, I thought she was going to give it a bit of a punt but she decided she’d be better off (again) handing the ball back to the kids.

I guess you can tell, it wasn't very hot today

As we watched the fun and frolics, we were joined by a Scottish lady who took a keen interest in the poodles who were taking an equally keen interest in her whippets. She asked what they were and coo’ed over them. Day-z loved that. Carmen tried to ignore her. Eventually we were able to get away.

We managed to get home before the rain started again…just.

Pity the poor guy lying on the grass

Sian Williams

Two of the biggest reasons why I enjoy Breakfast on the BBC are Bill & Sian. They are like good friends every morning, accompanying my coffee and attempts at waking.

A while ago, the BBC announced that they were moving the Breakfast studio from London to Salford (Manchester). I don’t know why you’d spoil a winning formula but there you go. Anyway, Bill said he’d go to Salford but Sian was unprepared to uproot her family and move. And today was her last show.

She was very emotional by the end of it this morning. She was very close to bursting into tears but, like the trooper she is, she held them back. I have to admit to being a bit weepy myself. I’ll miss you, Sian.

It kind of made me feel like this:

The end of the road is a bench then a drop

Apart from Tears at breakfast, today was mainly about waiting and walking. Waiting in waiting rooms and walking to and from them. Just annoying, really.

I went to the doctor in the morning and waited half an hour passed my appointment time. I waited at the vets for ten minutes after my appointment time. Finally, I waited to get some blood removed. Strictly speaking, there was no appointment for the final one – you have to take a number and wait – but I still had to wait.

I visited the doctor to see about a strange pain – which is why I had to give them some blood to test – which they were unable to explain. The vet was so that Day-z could get a new course of inconstancy pills. The vet kindly cut their nails for me while we there as well as sell me a huge bucket of pills for Carmen to ease her into arthritis as slowly as possible.

And through it all, the poodles just waited for their walk.

Carmen waits

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.

Everything was almost back to normal today after a little jaunt up north. I walked Mirinda to the station and, to get things properly back to normal, I then took a bus to Frensham to pick up the poodles.

As usual they were overjoyed to see me and then we started the long march home. The weather was kind – not too hot with many bursts of sunshine. We didn’t see a lot of people at Frensham Little Pond. Two and a dog, to be exact. Very unusual. Still, the poodles didn’t mind. They also didn’t mind the pigs who were very vocal and smelly today.

Of course, the Barley Mow at Tilford was closed when we reached it (at 11:30) so we sat on the cricket green for a mud-walk rest where we watched a bit of truck ballet between these two removalists lorries. For obvious reasons, I couldn’t resist a photo.

No relation, I'm sure

I’m not sure why but they did a sort of back and forth manoeuvre before one of them pulled forward and a load of men went to the back of it and started moving a load of blankets and a set of ramps around. it was all very mysterious. We sat and watched for about half an hour before heading over the bridge for our next section. We spotted a chap with a camera snapping away at the river and bridge but didn’t really think anything about it.

When we reached the horrible bit of the walk, where we walk along a rather nasty road, Carmen asked if we could go and visit Waverley Abbey, since we were so close. I wasn’t aware of her love of the ecclesiastical and was more than happy to oblige. We were quite close, after all.

So, instead of taking the right up to Mother Ludlam’s cave, we turned left and walked into the Waverley Abbey carpark. There to greet us was the chap who had been photographing the river at Tilford. He smiled at us and asked me if there was an old church nearby. Apparently a chap had told him there was. I pointed behind him.

“There’s the first Cistercian Abbey in England just over there. It was built in 1128 so I guess that’s pretty old. It’s a ruin now though, thanks to Henry VIII.”
“That’s fine. I wanted to take some photographs,” he explained. “Is it ok if I park my car here?”
“That’s the carpark, so I’m sure it’s fine.”

We left him to unpack his photographic equipment and strolled down the path by the river towards the ruins.

The Abbey always looks lovely but it really shone today, when the sun put in an appearance. It’s so peaceful that you understand straight away why those long ago monks decided to stop walking from France and started building their monastery.

Just one bit of the Abbey ruins

We had a jolly good wander around, making sure to satisfy Carmen’s curiosity, before heading back to the track. We stopped for a second to snap a picture of Waverley house (which isn’t open to the public).

Very stately, very inaccessible to Joe Public

The rest of the walk home dragged on, foot after foot, inch after inch, until we finally spotted the 6 Bells and took the alley towards the park. It was a very tired twosome who walked through the door. Day-z, of course, was still full of beans and had to do a quick run down the path to make sure it was still there. I have no idea how she can walk six miles then still have the energy for this. But she does. Carmen just collapsed and remained that way for the duration of the day…and night.

Here they are, stopping by the river before Tilford, looking like fuzzy felt figures of fun. They’re off for a haircut tomorrow and will look VERY different!

I reckon the hair is slowing them down

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I have also uploaded a few of our Hereford photographs to a new album. You can see it here. I promise, there’s only a few.

The dogs went on holiday today. The usual city-break at Frensham kennel. It’ll be tripe and…well, trip is more than enough. Since they were intent on going away, we decided it would be a grand idea to pop up to Hereford for the weekend.

It was incredibly foggy, first thing, so I fitted the fog horn to Sidney’s roof, packed her back section with far more stuff than three days warrants and programmed Linda, insisting she avoid the M25.

It’s odd, but it seems to me that all satnavs automatically send you round the M25, regardless of where you want to go. They seem to think it’s somehow faster to go through the world’s largest car park.

Which reminds me…on Breakfast the other day, a reporter was talking about a tour company which is offering a chance to see the M25 – a scenic bus tour of the huge London bypass. When the reporter asked a few motorists what they thought, one of them smiled ruefully and replied: “Well, I guess if you want to see the world’s biggest car park.”

And it’s been a surprising success.

“Now, according to The Mirror, the demand for a 118-mile tour of one of the UK’s nastiest, most snarled up, depressing, road-worky stretches of tarmac is so great that Brighton & Hove has laid on two more buses.” Alex Goy, AutoBlog

I’ve heard of some weird tours before but this one has to take the cake. What the hell is there to see? The inside of the coach? For four hours? Some people have far too much money for their own good.

Anyway, because the M25 has suddenly filled up with competitive bus tour operators, we thought it far wiser to take the more direct route. Don’t worry, I am not going to do a Reg and start rattling off road numbers – I had enough of that as Norman, listening to that sad litany every rehearsal and performance. Linda, quite accommodatingly I thought, changed her route to satisfy my needs and desires.

That was before we stopped off at the Cotswold Water Park for a cup of tea/coffee and essential walk around. It was here that we spotted a flock of seated seagulls, gazing out, over the water, at a bunch of bully-boy swans, picking on a duck couple. It was as peculiar as it sounds. I don’t think I’ll recover.

It was, perhaps, not as peculiar as the other people in the car park, also taking a driving break I assume. They all remained in their cars. Surely the idea of a driving break is to get out and stretch your legs, wake your muscles up a bit.

As Mirinda said, at least they were facing the lake. This is a very good point. Nearly always, these sorts of motorists can be seen in roadside car parks, facing the traffic. Could it be they just want a quick getaway? Or do they begrudge having to stop so much they try imagine they’re still driving? I guess I’ll never know. I think it’s rather odd.

So, we hopped back into the car and set off once more. I’d turned Linda off when we left her route and turned her back on as we neared the turn off. Silly me thought she’d simply pick up the same route. She didn’t.

We then had a jolly stressful tour of tiny country lanes with Mirinda cursing me and me cursing Linda. I resorted to the analogue alternative which, fortunately, I was carrying on my lap. I managed to get us back to the main A road.

But clearly feeling peevish, Linda kept trying to get us to turn off it again. Her voice was getting insistent when we ran into the traffic jam. Mirinda wondered whether Linda knew about it and had been trying to warn us off the more direct route all along. I’m convinced that this is giving Linda a little too much credit.

As it turned out, the traffic jam wasn’t too bad and we were soon sailing along again, following Linda’s instructions to the front door of Somerville House in Hereford, our home for the next few days.

Mirinda relaxes in front of the big windows in our room

We settled in nicely – the bed is easily the size of our lounge room – had a cup of tea/coffee bought to us by the big windows of our room, which overlook the garden. Our room is at the back of the house and looks in the direction of Hereford – we can see two steeples and the squat tower of the cathedral just poking above the trees.

Mirinda decided to do some work while I typed merrily away. She maintained that it was a Friday and she’d been driving for three hours, which was time she’d normally work in. She didn’t have to justify it to me, after all, it’s not a Sunday.

For dinner we decided to wander into town and search out the Stewing Pot, a restaurant highly recommended by the lady of the house. I have to say it was very, very nice. The prices were reasonable, the food delicious and the desserts, perfect. I would recommend it to anyone except, maybe dad.

I also had a lovely bottle of this:

Nice and hoppy with a good, full, body

After our meal we strolled back to the hotel (it always takes longer the first time you go anywhere so the trip back took about a third of the time though this could be because we went back the direct way rather than down Goal Road and via the police station), trying to avoid the eyes of the hundreds of denizens of the footpaths.

It was actually quite gross. Girls in ridiculously short skirts and men drunk enough to be their fathers. This was at 10pm. I hate to think what it will be like as the clock ticks around to the wee small hours of tomorrow morning. Fortunately I’ll be asleep.

A day that started out grey and miserable and ended up gloriously sunny and blue. VERY English. I think it even rained at about 10am. I say ‘think’ because I was in the hairdresser’s at the time and it all looked a bit damp when I emerged.

Yes, today was my three monthly visit to see Gordon at Flamingo in order for him to make me not look my age. I noticed the obvious landing strip streaks extending beyond the invisible the other day and knew it was time to send the clock into reverse.

I actually love having my hair done but never like the inevitable ‘chat’ that goes with it. Which explains why I like Gordon. There’s no meaningless chat with Gordon. Actually, there’s no chat at all. Put the dye on, let it set, wash it then cut it. Brilliant. My kind of hairdresser. And the results are pretty good too.

Back to my proper age

My next stop was Starbucks (of course) to be asked by the young barista (boy) what I was giving up for Lent. I gave him my usual answer of “Lent” and then asked why he wanted to know. Apparently everyone has been telling him what they’re giving up. He said he was going to borrow my answer for the next person that asked.

The barista who was making my coffee (girl) then offered the following on the subject of giving stuff up for Lent.

I don’t want to steal anything else from the Christians. We’ve already taken Christmas and Easter. It wouldn’t be right.

Genius! Both the boy and I cracked up with laughter. She really has a great delivery as well but it’s a bit difficult to type it so you’ll just have to believe me. I suppose I should have asked her to repeat it into my phone so I could record it. I merely typed it up on my phone to save for later. As I said, you’ll just have to believe me about her delivery.

Over my latte, I finished reading about Atilla the Hun (according to the book, he has been somewhat maligned) and went on to a book about the naming of some London streets. Bleeding Heart Yard was the first and very bloody history.

Shopping passed by without anything happening and I was soon home to the crazy poodles. I decided they needed a walk in order to calm down so we popped up to the park as the sun came out and the clouds rapidly dispersed.

It was lovely in the park. There were a couple of weird people wandering up and down the Avenue of Trees, separated by about 50 yards and walking at the same speed. One said hello and the other ignored me.

The only dogs we saw were a couple of greyhounds who, unusually, the poodles didn’t want to chase.

Come on, poodles! What's wrong with you?

And then, back home to lunch and housework.

So, I guess what I really gave up for Lent (for today at least) was writing a long blog post. I can hear the relief from here.

Last night we had another fall of snow. Mirinda spotted it first in Canary Wharf on her way home from work. She said it looked lovely, falling through the street lights. Later in the night, I let the dogs out to go to the toilet and they came back with white flecks on them.

I woke up to find everything covered in white again.

My usual walk into town

I suffered a bit of an internal tussle but, eventually, decided not to go in to work. My reasoning was that the road looked very slippery and the trains may not have been reliable.

As it turned out, there wasn’t a lot of slipperiness and the trains actually behaved. What can I say? A bad call but a very pleasant, unexpected day at home.

Without knowing why, the poodles were very happy. They spent a lot of the day shoving their faces into the snow and making it stick to their legs. I have no idea how they can avoid getting cold but they somehow manage it.

While it was bitterly cold and snow lay all about, the morning was all sunshine and blue skies – the perfect winter’s day.

And, just like the traditional sickie (as opposed to a day when you’re actually sick), we had a lovely, lazy day, which included a lovely snow fuelled walk to the castle and back.

Carmen loves running around like a lunatic, rubbing her face in the snow at every opportunity and eating it on the run. Like a hydraulic snow shovel, she scoops it up, without a pause in her stride. It’s strange and very funny.

And, finally, Mirinda came home. The dogs went mad – Day-z has spent an awful lot of time on the window sill over the last two weeks, always on the look out for her return. I was in the shower at the time but their excited yelling alerted me to her arrival.

We’ve all missed her and it was lovely that Farnham looked so perfect for her return. This was definitely helped by her coming home before it was too dark to enjoy it!

After dinner, it was time to leave for the Farnham Maltings for our monthly Girls & Guitars gig, which was surprisingly well attended, given the weather. It was very cold and there was still a lot of snow.

I should say that it was a lot of snow for us. As Don McLean said on Breakfast this morning, he has regularly lived through four feet dumps of snow every three days in Maine (where he lives) and our little bit of white stuff was nothing. It’s all relative.

Tonight’s singer/songwriter was a girl from Guildford. She is Joanna Weston and has the honour of being the very first Girl & Guitar back in 2010 when the Maltings started the series.

Joanna Weston at Farnham Maltings

We are getting used to a high level of performer at the G&G nights. They have all been very talented (skilled in both guitar and singing) but tend to suffer from a lot of angst in their songs. So it was a lovely treat to hear some songs with an upbeat feel to them.

She has just returned from Holland where she recorded her latest EP. She told us about a documentary made about the trip which sounds quite good. She said she’d send a link to whoever joined her mailing list. I joined her mailing list and am now, eagerly looking forward to watching it.

We had about 2″ of snow last night. I know because I took a metal ruler out to the path this morning and measured it. Of course, the poodles went mad and Carmen spent far too long rolling in it. With no more snow forecast, it’s now going to turn to slush very quickly so we went for an early walk. Well, early for a Sunday, anyway.

Lots of families with kids on sleds, wearing bright colours so as to be easily found in the snow. Here’s one wandering off home. Her mother said she has a strong independent streak and had had enough of the snow.

Screw you guys, I'm going home

I realised my mistake in wearing wellies far too late to change them. Rubber is not a very good insulator ensuring that my toes were frozen by the time we returned home. Then, like the good neighbour I am, I took the shovel outside and cleared our drive and the path outside our house.

Actually, it was because I almost slipped over a few times and I remember last time how treacherous the ice was after the snow started freezing. Each time I started slipping, I felt a twinge in my right wrist. Fortunately I remained standing.

After shovelling out the front, I cleared the path out the back as this, too, was starting to get a bit slippy. What a joy! The last time I tried to clear snow resulted in, what looked like, a luge channel. The path makes it so much easier. How could anyone not love our path?

Being a Sunday means, of course, it’s a day of rest, so I spent a lot of it doing family history research. I haven’t touched it for ages which means a bit of a refresh first…just to see what I was up to last time. I am stuck on the Cornish policeman who went to France in the mid 1800s. Very annoying.

Also, I need to apologise…sort of. A slide guitar isn’t a type of guitar but, rather, a style of playing a guitar. There’s a wiki article on it here, which I’m sure Mirinda will be interested in.

After our walk

So, here’s a question for you: What have Tallulah Bankhead, Carol Channing, Minnie Driver and Justin Timberlake all have in common? Apart from being in films I mean. I’ll tell you later.

Today was a great day! I went to the fracture clinic at Frimley Park and was discharged! They don’t want to see me again. I was told, if I needed to see them, that I knew where they were but, basically, I just have to keep up the physio (forever, I assume). I think I’m their wonder patient. They are very happy with my progress and healing abilities. I told them it was the vodka.

I asked if I could have a copy of my x-rays and they let me photograph them but, stupidly, I didn’t take the one with the break! I blame the guy controlling the screen because he missed it. Anyway, this is what it looked like when the plaster came off.

Take my hand, it no longer comes off

Meanwhile at home…it was bitterly cold up the park this morning. Actually, it was bitterly cold everywhere. we even had small flurries of snow when I was at the hospital. But, in the aprk, the icy chill from Moscow was making itself felt. not that it stopped the girls running around like lunatics. Or, maybe that was the idea.

Running back to me in their winter coats...and coats

At one stage, this dog spotted them and sneaked up on Carmen. Scared the living daylights out of her, making her scream and run around my legs. Day-z, leaping to the defence of her big, cowardly sister, then chased the poor thing across the park and back to its owner.

The rare Bat Eared Corgi wants to play with the bashful poodle

Cold or not, it was still beautiful and the girls loved it.

I also had fun with mum, when I rang this morning. Using a wonderful little web-tool called join.me, I was able to control her PC across the Internet. Sadly I wasn’t able to fix her Skype problem but we’re investigating other possibilities. We were able to play with the PC because poor dad was once more in hospital. Hopefully he’ll be out in a few hours.

And, finally, what do Carol Channing, Minnie Driver and Justin Timberlake have in common? Well, they all had a birthday today. Tallulah would have been 110 (had she not died in 1968), Carol was 91, Minnie 42 and baby Justin a very young 31.