Oh, My Days!

Currently, I’m reading this book… It is really very, very good. Thought provoking, fascinating, full of sense, and a couple of times has brought tears of realisation to my eyes. It’s one of those rare books that I shall read through once then read again but the second time I shall make notes on bits of the text that resonate with me, and answer the many questions that have been popping up in my mind. I shall learn from it and act on its wisdom.  Anyway, this morning I popped out to Aldi to get some shopping. Not much. A quick in and out, I thought. I don’t wear a mask-shaped mask anymore but in an attempt to be respectful of other shoppers and shop staff, I pull a scarf over my mouth and nose and, providing I can keep this to 10 minutes at the most, I can avoid a panic-attack overwhelming me. List in hand, then, I mounted a brisk expedition around the nicely wide aisles. There were probably a dozen people in the shop. If an aisle was empty I had a quick breather from behind my scar...

 Why is it that these days the act of kindness seems to come with a caveat? That so many people profess to be championing the mantra ‘Be kind’ yet their kindness is only forthcoming if the potential recipient of that kindness meets the criteria set by the giver?  Whilst not being the slave to news that once I was, I still skim through a selection of newspapers, magazines and websites, and I read columns written by various journalists, politicians, celebrities and social commentators. And one week they will be spouting the ‘Be Kind’ mantra, and the next they will be sticking the knife into certain sections of society they have decided are behaving wrongly. Oh, be kind, they say. Unless that section of society is not deserving of kindness. Kindness cannot be served up with caveats. How can it be? Surely, in doing so, you negate the unconditional love, acceptance and compassion that are the component parts of kindness? How can you say, ‘Of course I’ll be kind - provided you do th...

 At school, I remember being called a ‘bookworm.’ It didn’t bother me - in fact, I saw it as a badge of honour. I love reading, always have and always will. I read every day. I am bemused by adults who declare, with pride, that they haven’t read a book since they left school. I mean, what’s that all about, eh? What do they DO with their spare time?  Today, the books I ordered online on Wednesday arrived in the post. Lovely, lovely books. Just looking at them and holding them makes me smile… One fiction, three non-fiction. I’ve just finished ‘Enbury Heath’ which is another to tick off my Stella Gibbons’ list. I’ve read fifteen of her novels so far, so just over half way through her oeuvre. I’m still reading books on an introduction to classical music appreciation and printmakers who use chickens and geese as their inspirations. That’s a bit niche, that one. I started reading the second Norman Doidge one about the plasticity of the human brain, but it was a bit heavy going strai...

 Today, I learnt that: 1) I can’t run as fast as a rabbit… 2) …but I do have more cunning than a rabbit 3) rabbits might not appear to have the capacity to laugh but their rapidly retreating tails suggest otherwise 4) it is important to not assume rabbit run doors have been fastened securely. ALWAYS check. Because the rabbit clearly does 5) hens make a lot of ruckus when a rabbit is loose in their garden… 6)…but not as much ruckus as cockerels make 7) it is important to listen to the little voice inside that says, ‘Just pop upstairs’ when you hadn’t intended to pop upstairs but if you hadn’t listened to the little voice you would not have casually glanced through the landing window wondering why you’d been advised by the little voice to go upstairs, and you wouldn’t have seen escapee rabbit high kicking their way around your large garden and if you hadn’t seen escapee rabbit GAWD knows what would’ve happened 8) a wet rabbit who has been loomed upon from on high and wrangled into su...

 The problem with giving a home to an abandoned animal is that they are generally of An Unknown Quantity. And with His Lordship being a veterinary surgeon, who works in a practice where animals are sometimes dumped/abandoned, this means that over the 20 years we’ve been together, ALL the animals that have come to live chez nous have been Unknown Quantities. Except the chickens. And they are a law unto themselves anyway, so don’t count on the Unknown Quantity Scale. It’s generally cats we adopt. We had a couple of chinchillas once. Their known quantity was eating everything other than their proper food that they could get their destructive little teeth into, including my coat and a pair of wellingtons. They redeemed themselves with their entertaining bathing habits. If you’ve never seen a chinchilla spinning in a bowl of dust, you’ve never lived. However, we’ve never taken in a bunny. Until Edith, Rabbit of Mystery, arrived two days before Christmas. Things I know about Edith: ...