The House Husband

I was at the Talking Newspaper today, presenting the Haslemere & Liphook News. I think it went rather well. I had a great team of readers (and my engineer was Malcolm, who sounds and acts like Biggles and was, in fact, in the RAF) and I didn’t make any mistakes.

Actually, if I’m being really honest, I did make a sort of mistake. As we approach the end of a piece we’re reading, we are supposed to raise our hand then drop it to indicate to the next reader that it is their turn to speak. By doing this, the reading can be continuous rather than stopping and starting between each reader. It works well and is simple to do.

It was at the end of What’s On (I think) and I the next reader wasn’t ready (his headphones were round his neck and he’d knocked his microphone). Unfortunately I couldn’t see he wasn’t ready as I was reading the What’s On stuff so, as usual, I just announced his name and hit his mike button. At the same time as I released the button I looked at him.

The poor thing looked like a rabbit caught in headlights. It took him at least 30 seconds to get himself ready to speak and then his mike was wrong so another 30 seconds for that before he was actually reading his next story. Given we measure stories in 90 second slots means he’d almost used up his allotted time!

Of course, that’s not a problem because the engineer will have removed the big pause during editing. The only really problem is that I have to keep an eye on the clock in order to know when to change from one track to the next. It meant I had to add roughly a minute to it each time.

I can just hear my wife laughing at the fact that I was forced to engage in mathematics on the fly but I can assure her, adding a single minute is something even I can do (though I’m not sure about Ben who apparently has worse maths than me). The difficulty is communicating with the engineer, silently, trying to make him realise I’m allowing for the minute. Anyway, it was all fine and the session was actually very enjoyable.

The biggest bonus of the day was missing the rain, which I did three times. I took the dogs for a walk early (before I had to leave) and it started raining as we returned to the front door. Then it poured while I was in the studio recording but stopped by the time I left. And, finally, I was standing in Waitrose waiting to be served when the heavens opened up, drenching about a dozen people wandering passed. Again, it stopped by the time I left the shop.

On the way to the recording, I picked up my new glasses which made an instant difference.

My new Oakley glasses

I think they look pretty cool.

I am presently reading a book by Jenny Uglow, a favourite author of mine. The book is called The Lunar Men and is about the amazing group of men who lived in and around Litchfield in the mid 18th century. They had regular meetings and called their little gatherings The Lunar Society because they would only meet on a Sunday close to the full moon. The reason was not because they were mad but because of the lack of street lights, the moon giving them sufficient light to get home afterwards!

Included in the group where people like Erasmus Darwin (grandfather of Charles), Josiah Wedgwood (he of the pottery) and Matthew Boulton (an amazing man who eventually partnered with James Watt to create steam engines…among other things). There were many more who would meet and discuss everything and anything like fossils, botany, medicine, mechanical engineering, pottery glaze, Rousseau, etc.

The reason I bring this up (apart from the fact that it is a very enjoyable book) is because of a section I read today. Matthew Boulton has reached middle age (he is 52) and is surprised. Ms Uglow writes:

“Middle age made little difference to Boulton. His hair was touched with grey and his feet stabbed by gout, but he seemed astonished to be growing older.”

When I read that, it struck a chord. I have never felt my age. When I look in the mirror, I’m genuinely surprised that I look older. When people make a comment like “You’re old enough to remember…” I’m amazed. I realise, of course, that I shouldn’t; that I am, in fact 55 but even so…deep down inside, I’m not so sure.

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So it rained most of the day today. Just perfect for housework. We did go for a walk (I waited for Mirinda to call me and when she hadn’t and I knew it was gone midnight, we left and she rang about ten minutes later!) in that particular English fine rain that you don’t realise has soaked you until you’ve been in it for an hour.

Of course, the garden was very pleased and, hopefully, has soaked up enough water to be especially lush for Mirinda’s return on Saturday night.

And, of course, here’s tonight’s shot of the gladiolus. Following Mirinda’s comment, I’ve moved around a bit, to show it from a better angle. Hopefully it’ll look a little less weird. I’m pretty sure each one of those little spikes contains a flower.

Gladiolus - day four

Fortunately, when the heavens opened and Farnham was drenched for the umpteenth time this week, I was in the studio recording another edition for the Talking Newspaper.

It was the Alton edition this week, which, apart from anything else, means a late start and finish. I had two chaps reading for me today who I’ve never met before. This still amazes me after all this time. My third reader was Lindsey, who’ve I read with many times.

They were a jolly group and we had a fun old time, chuckling away and generally being a bit cheeky…well, I was, anyway. I had to improvise during the sport section a bit because of the weather last weekend. It was so bad, there was no cricket results due to there being no cricket! The one story was of a disastrous game which ended up being incomplete. Though it was accompanied by a lovely photograph of a rainbow over the ground during one of the drier periods of play.

We describe the photographs for our listeners. Apparently they particularly like this. It makes sense, if you think about it. Most of the photographs are of smiling children and local dignitaries receiving or handing out giant cheques, so it was quite nice to get one of a rainbow over a cricket pitch. I also had a rather nice one of a water vole, poking its nose between some reeds on a river bank.

And, speaking of cricket, I had a nice little piece about the first game of cricket played at a particular ground in Hampshire (I can’t remember, and have never heard of, the place) where the writer explained the fact that once upon a time, runs were called notches. The reason for this was because the scorer would make notches in a piece of wood every time a batsman scored a run. I’m guessing paper was too expensive (we’re talking 1756) or just too valuable to waste on cricket scoring.

The recording all went smoothly (I’m ignoring the time I pressed the wrong button and we had to start again) and we managed to finish ahead of schedule – always a good thing.

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Mirinda asked for a photograph of the auricula theatre so here is one. It was pretty dull by the time I arrived home from the Talking Newspaper so sorry about the quality. Still, you can see all the lovely flowers. Even though none of them are actually auriculas…

The auricula theatre in bloom

I’ll get some photos of the front garden on the weekend…especially if the sun comes out!

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

And, for clarification, the title does not refer to that cheesy 1973 film about robot cowboys starring Yul Brynner as a robot gunslinger.

Weather wise, it was horrid today. On Breakfast they said there would be intermittent showers and boy were they right. The showers came and stopped, the sun came out then went in and the showers started again. It was like this all day. Subsequently my weeding was somewhat erratic.

I would rush out as the rain stopped, start ripping them out then race back in when the rain started again. I managed to weed the hot border. That’s about it, really. During periods of wet I did filing; catching up on the paperwork backlog.

We did manage to get a walk in (though we did get wet a few times) and spotted a few other brave (and damp) souls. Two of them were happily chatting while five Westies circled them, sniffing and generally enjoying life in general. The poodles gave them a wide berth…fortunately. I’d hate to think what would happen if they’d all kicked off.

As I passed the two women I remarked that they had a whole world of Westies at their feet and they laughed. It was a litter of puppies. They were ridiculously cute. Not that Carmen and Day-z thought so. Their tails went down and they trotted by as quickly as possible.

It was impossible to take any photos of the park today so here’s a couple from yesterday.

Day-z being unusually obedient on the big log

Mirinda's favourite view in Farnham Park

And finally, our lovely hollyhocks that sit next to Sidney, keeping her company. It should be noted that the hollyhocks happened completely by accident; some random seeds dropped by some random (but clearly artistic) bird…or wind.

Sidney's hollyhocks

Well, what a miserable day…and what a lovely evening. We’ve had torrential rain for most of it but now (at 9pm) there isn’t a cloud in the sky.

There was one break at about 3pm when the sun came out and did it’s best to dry everything so, figuring it may last a bit, I took the poodles up to the park. What a busy day it was up there!

As we wandered by the football pitch, a full on game of football was under-way. As we walked by, the yellow side scored a fantastic goal (a swift pass from the left wing, the goalie had it covered when, out of no-where, a head appeared, sending the ball smashing into the back of the net). There was even a (very) small crowd watching from the sidelines.

As we neared the castle, the thwack of leather on willow announced that another game of cricket was being played out on the Farnham pitch – presumably using the Duckworth-Lewis method of scoring since they wouldn’t have managed many overs in the morning.

On the grass in front of the cricket pitch, around 50 cars were parked, belonging to the audience for As You Like It, the yearly Shakespeare in the castle grounds which was performing today. Hopefully it didn’t start until the rain stopped as it was an open air production.

And then, to cap all of this frenetic activity, a group of kids (about 20) were playing rounders just up from the playground, squealing every time someone hit a ball and ran around the evenly spaced sticks.

We quite often see a lot of people but this was like nothing we’ve ever seen before – a riot of activity. It was as if these groups had suddenly sprung up out of the ground the instant the rain stopped. Even the number of dog walkers was greater than normal. All very strange…but reasonable.

Because of the weather, I spent most of the day sorting out a few things on the computer. I also put some photos of New York on the site. You can find them here.

I did manage to get a shot of our lovely and very successful Lavatera though (during a brief lull in the weather).

Our magnificent Lavatera

I also managed to talk to Mirinda who isn’t that keen on Hong Kong.

In Norfolk you can buy these weather dolls – for all I know you can get them everywhere but I did see one from Norfolk recently. They can tell you the weather. They have a notice that goes with them that reads “If I am wet, it’s raining. If I am dry, it’s not. If my hair is horizontal, it’s windy. If it’s vertical, it’s still.” Or words to that effect. Apparently the dolls are very accurate if placed outside. I have a much better way of finding out the weather.

Today, as I was cleaning the fridge, I had a text. It was my mother asking if it was raining. It was, indeed, raining. There was thunder, lightening and a thorough drenching of a rain storm. Confused, I told her as much. She was watching Wimbledon and the rain was so heavy, it could be heard in Queensland as it thumped on the roof over centre court.

So, from now on, if I want to know the weather, I’m just going to text my mother.

The storm that assailed us here in the south east was indeed a doozy. A sudden, unexpected lightening flash took out a few trains, rendering them useless. Yesterday it was so hot that some trains were unable to move because the overhead wires melted. I think that says more about the state of the rail service over here than anything else.

I had just completed planting the self sown verbascum ‘seedlings’ (remember the banana custard?) that Mirinda had rescued in the ex-nettle patch when the rain started dropping on us. The sky was suddenly black and we high-tailed it into the house just it started drenching everything.

I heard the roofers next door scampering down off the scaffold. I imagine a roof is not the best place to be during a storm. Particularly one surrounded by scaffolding like so many lightening rods just begging for some sort of Ben Franklin re-enactment.

The poodles hate thunder, particularly Carmen, and they huddled around me as I made an early lunch. Normally Carmen sits on a dining room chair and waits for her sliced meat treat but not today. She was at my feet, her tail down, misery in her eyes as the thunder rumbled directly overhead.

Sitting on the lounge, eating my baguette and watching the TV, she was stretched out, her head resting on my knee at an extremely awkward angle – anything to remain in contact with me. Every now and then her eyes would half open, just to make sure I was still there.

Day-z isn’t that keen on thunder either so she was tightly curled up in my lap. I was covered in poodles. I didn’t mind but Day-z wasn’t too happy when the phone rang and I had to move her.

Eventually the rain stopped and the sun weakly made an appearance, so we headed up to the park for a lovely walk where we only met one other person walking his dog. Everyone else must have been waiting a little longer, just to make sure the rain had gone.

The park smells so good just after rain. It’s all fresh and alive, sunlight glistening off droplets, leaves awash with water. Everything was perfect…until Day-z had an FSI. You take your eyes off them for one minute and…so, the perfect ruination of a perfect walk.

Back home, after giving her a jolly good bath, I returned to the garden for some intensive weeding, among other things, picking out the tiny little nettle plants that have sprung forth from the herb table. This is because I used our own compost which, clearly, harbours nasty little nettle seeds.

I’m now wondering if mum could tell me what the weather will be tomorrow.

I didn’t take many photographs today but spotted the roses from the kitchen window, looking somewhat wet after the rain and ran out to snap them.

Roses after the rain

If you’re ever in a position of choice between taking the tube from Embankment or walking across Waterloo Bridge, I’d always choose the latter. At least that’s what I thought before today. Sadly, this is no longer true. My newest aphorism is “if in doubt, catch the Tube”.

I’d seen the weather report so cannot plead ignorance. Even sitting in the restaurant where Mirinda and I had Italian for lunch, the rain was heavy enough for me to see it without my glasses. Did I heed the warning of Apollo or hear the glee of Thor? Not a bit!

We had a lovely lunch in a new place (for us). The thing about the location of Mirinda’s office is that there are enough restaurants within a lunchtime radius that we will probably never run out of a new one every Wednesday. We wander, Mirinda spots somewhere, we eat. Brilliant strategy.

I would normally have a Fiorentina pizza in an Italian place but the special salmon in a lime, coriander and butter sauce was too good to pass up. Apart from the calorific content (about the weight of an adult yak) it was perfect. I guess that really means it tasted great but was very, very bad. Too bad, I say! In all senses.

Earlier in the day (before I left home) I realised that someone had stolen my umbrella. Given that the last time I saw it was hanging from a hook by the front door, it could only be one of three and I’m pretty sure the poodles would have difficulty working the opening mechanism.

As I looked out from the restaurant window, smiling at the poor tourists running from shelter to shelter and the lunchtime workers battling against the wind with their oversized golf umbrellas, I remembered I didn’t have mine anymore.

Normally I’m rather reticent when it comes to umbrellas. I think they are dangerous and pretty useless when there’s even a puff of wind. However, it’s always nice to know there’s one in my bag if I’m ever caught up in a drench emergency. Like today.

After lunch, the rain having eased off to the faintest of faint drips, I walked Mirinda back to her office and then set off back to Waterloo. I stood at a metaphoric crossroads in Embankment Park. Left to Waterloo Bridge or right to Embankment Tube. Stupidly, I turned left.

15 minutes later I was standing in front of the platform indicators in Waterloo concourse, soaking wet with no-one to blame but myself. Never mind, I thought glumly, the train will be announced shortly and I can strip off my wet outer garments and be relatively comfortable. Well, as comfortable as you can be on a South West Trains 450 carriage.

The announcements at Waterloo station are terrible. It’s not a language or accent thing because generally the announcer has clear diction and an easy to understand accent. The problem with the public address system at Waterloo Station is one of pitch. A voice needs to be of a certain tone otherwise any long information will become indecipherable.

For instance, today the train was delayed for some reason – it said so on the indicator board – and some bright spark figured it would be a good idea to let us know why. The message sounded a little something like this:

For those passengers waiting for the 13:23 train to Alton this train gmbld nmukl grmmb drddldrd grmp dmp dmp [this actually went on for ages but you get the idea] very shortly.

I’d like someone to tell me why that was necessary. It wasn’t just me, there were plenty of other passengers looking completely mystified, some asking other people what had been said and getting only shrugs in reply.

Anyway, eventually the indicator changed and I boarded the train on platform 11 (where a train had been sitting all the time I’d been waiting) and, apart from leaving a few minutes late, had an uneventful trip home.

Here’s one of the only decent photos I took today. It features Embankment Pier where Mirinda catches her ferry (one very similar to the one in the shot) and, if you look carefully, you can see her building.

Embankment Pier

I joined Mirinda on the train this morning as far as Woking. My shoes have grown a hole in the sole so I needed to visit my favourite shop for a new pair. Given the rain, every time I wear the old ones, one foot gets squishily wet. I hate having to carry spare socks so figured new shoes were the best solution. And so I headed off for TK Maxx.

The old pair were ideal because they are quite wide in the foot, allowing for comfort during mild gout days – mild enough not to need the gout sandals, anyway – and so it was with some trepidation I set about trying to find a pair as good. And would you believe it! They had the very same shoes (just a different colour)!

Naturally, I snapped them up before they could disappear. As well as a couple of new shirts. My haul came to under £50 for the lot so I was very pleased. I just LOVE TK Maxx.

Back at home I set to mowing the lawn before the rain arrived. BBC had prophesied that it would hit us at about 4pm so I knew I had plenty of time but I also had some planting to do. The lawn was in desperate need of a trim after the rain of the last few days but the mower made short work of it and I settled down for lunch.

It was then up to the park with the poodles to check out the funfair which is presently setting up in the park. This happens every year. Lots of trucks invade the football pitch beside the castle, forming a circle like so many wagons defending against the Indians. In fact, looking back at my posts, it was exactly a year ago that they were here.

We chased a few dogs, ran away from others and then headed home. While taking a temporary diversion into Squirrel Tree Copse, Carmen had an FSI. She hasn’t done this for a while but today she found the mother lode.

I reckon there’s a communal fox toilet just behind the Squirrel Tree and the last fox that used it forgot to shut the door. Boy did she stink. Gaggingly smelly. Even Day-z walked at a distance from her. Of course, Carmen thought it was all great and walked with her head and tail held high. Stupid dog. And she hated the vigorous bath.

Having rid the house of the obnoxious odour of Carmen’s stupidity, I hit the garden, ready to plant up the horde from Saturday. Mirinda had placed them in their pre-ordained locations throughout the new bed so all I had to do was dig, manure, water and plonk them in. This I did while listening to Radio 4, watching the growing blackness starting to make itself known above the house.

I had two more to plant and it started. Big drips started hitting me. I heard the roofers next door down tools and vacate the scaffold as I rushed to finish the planting. The rain started in earnest and I quickly moved the radio and my camera into the shed before returning to finish, water streaming down my face.

The dogs were sitting on the sun lounger watching, ignoring the rain. Idiots. Anyway, I managed to finish and put all the tools away before rescuing the radio and my camera and heading inside. The rain still hasn’t stopped. This means I am unable to take a photo of the finished bed. Maybe tomorrow.

Here’s a picture of the Lightbox, the museum in Woking. I’ve yet to visit it. I would have today except it doesn’t open until 10:30 each day and I was catching a train home by then.

The Lightbox museum, Woking

[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.