Oh, My Days!

 Firstly, whoever thought it would be a GREAT and FUN idea to make miniature shopping trolleys for children to use in Morrison’s supermarket was WRONG. When in a supermarket, children should be holding firmly on to the standard trolley and making the least annoyance to other shoppers as possible, not running riot with their own trolleys. That’s how it was in my day. Just saying. Secondly, for the FIRST time in 40+ years of putting out the bins for weekly collection, today I forgot. Actually forgot. I can’t believe I didn’t put it out last night like I always do. In my defence, yesterday was a hectic day, culminating in 4 hours of gardening and I was molto stanco by the end of the day and it must have slipped my mind. Either that, or my actual mind is slipping. Fortunately, we produce very little general waste so could probably miss having our bin collected for a couple of months before it became full. But even so…fancy forgetting… Thirdly, I bought Nell these at Aldi - £1.49.  There we

 Yesterday, we enjoyed: stair rod rain, sunshine, thunderstorms, hail, windy gales, chills and heat. British weather, eh? Nell and I were out and about for an early walk, whilst it was still dry, well, barely spitting with rain, and we marched the lanes and the canals keeping a fair eye on the gathering storm clouds. We found these on our route… …a mass of wild sweet peas smothering a hedgerow. The photo doesn’t do them justice; they were quite magnificent. I found them more awe-inspiring than Nell, who was busy chatting up a nice lady standing on the tow path, holding her boat’s rope and waiting for someone coming through the lock downwards to complete their passage, so she could continue her travels upwards. We had a chat about how clever cockapoos are at learning things, and we parted company with ‘Blessed be!’ which is a nice witchy farewell.  The swallow babies have fledged. Sadly, the smallest of the gang of five has died, gone to find its wings in birdie heaven. I found it by th

 …five! I can confirm today the sighting of FIVE baby swallows in the laundry nest, which means all five eggs hatched - hurrah! However, when I tried to take a photo of the five (not four) babies, one of them sunk back below the edge of the nest saying, ‘You ain’t seem me, right?’ so I only caught four on camera. Here they are, looking very cross with life. But there are DEFINITELY five of them! Not four. I find it amazing that they can grow from baldy-wobble-headed-yellow-beaked-jelly-blobs to fully-fledged-aerodynamic-sleek-flying-machines in the space of two weeks. They will fledge in the next day or two, of that I have no doubt. I don’t blame them for not fledging today because a) it’s been wet and windy and therefore not conducive to successful maiden flights and b) there was a lot of slurry spreading yesterday in the surrounding fields and it’s been, quite frankly, eye watering. Even I haven’t wanted to go outside because of it. Luckily, I have my zesty lemon candle on hand to wa

 The UK General Election is only three weeks away and I am still undecided upon whom to bestow my vote. This is usual for me because I have determined Tory blood running through my veins. The only time I haven’t voted Tory in the last 40 years was when John Major ousted Margaret Thatcher as leader of the Conservative Party, and there was something nasty about him I didn’t like, so I voted Green. We got Tony Blair (which still makes me feel nauseous) but as I’ve said before, no point fretting about the past. The problem is, for me, the Conservative Party is not what it used to be. In fact, it feels as if all the major parties have melded into one common governance and not a sliver of tissue paper can be inserted between them. I know there are those who will disagree, but that is my feeling about current UK politics.  I have thought about not bothering to vote, but feel that would be disrespectful to the work and memories of the Women’s Suffrage Movement. It feels even more important to

 It’s the 8th anniversary of Damson Cottage today. Eight years! Where’s it gone? I’ve been humming that song, you know the one that goes:  ‘Enjoy yourself, it’s later than you think, Enjoy yourself, while you’re still in the pink, The years go by as quickly as you wink, Enjoy yourself, enjoy yourself, it’s later than you think!’ And we have enjoyed ourselves here. There have been ups and downs, of course there have, because that’s life, but we’ve never once regretted the decision to leave my home town in Kent and move here, into the middle of fields. A psychic once told me I’d find peace and happiness in the middle of fields, and he was right.  One thing I do miss, though, is being able to pop round for a cuppa and a chat with two of my very good friends, Jane and Jean. I was trying to work out how far back our respective friendships go; it must be over thirty five years with Jane and fourteen years with Jean, who was the best teaching assistant a girl could ever ask for. Funnily enoug

 Things people say when they meet Nell: ‘Oooh, she’s full of energy, isn’t she?’ ‘Gosh, what a bouncy pup!’ ‘Well, I wish I could jump up and down like that.’ ‘What a happy, waggy girl!’ ‘She’s an excitable one, isn’t she?’ ‘Does she ever have calm moments?’ ‘Aaah, the exuberance of youth!’ ‘Full of life, I see!’ Things people say when they meet me: ‘You look weary.’ A bit rude, maybe, and often it’s not said out loud, but I understand the look on a person’s face when they see me being taken for a walk by Nell. Anyway, Nell walked me today, as per, and it was nice not to come home with wet jeans hems on account of all the undergrowth that is swamping the towpath of our favourite canal side walk. I’ve also been having a ‘tick list’ day, doing the life admin stuff that needs doing and which also makes me feel weary. I’ve ordered a tank load of oil (arriving tomorrow, possibly Friday), I’ve booked my car in for its first ever MOT. Can’t believe I’ve had my little red motor for almost thre

 Did I participate in ‘No Mow May?’ Did my lawnmower stay in the garden shed, gathering dust and spider webs? Did I heed the environmentalists plea to leave my grass uncut for an entire month, for the benefit of the wildlife? Of course not! Good grief, with the weather as it was - sunshine, showers, warmth, more rain, more sun - if I had left the grass untouched for a whole month, by now we’d be thigh deep in the stuff. I’d be drowning in the moisture every day as I went about other gardening business AND treading in goodness’ knows how much poo debris left behind by the furry ginger noblet. If she was a Burmese Mountain dog, I might stand a chance of spotting her deposits but she isn’t - she is a small(ish) 9 kg depositor of poos relative to her size which are easily hidden from view in grass over an inch high. I am very good at deploying the poo scoop as soon as I see an offending turd.  The grass, therefore, was mowed three times in May and I’ve just done it again today. Even though