Oh, My Days!

For the last few months I’ve been living with the thought that my body might have developed a cancer. Today, I found out that it hasn’t. The relief is indescribable. The troublesome bump has been removed and I am here, in my lovely writing room, with no more than a small spot plaster and instructions on after-care for the wound to show for all the dark thoughts that have been sitting in the back of my mind, chuntering away in spite of my best efforts to ignore them.  The sun is shining. From where I am sitting, I can see the grass being mowed in the field. Opening the window, I can smell that fresh cut grass, one of the best air fresheners ever. My desk clock is ticking with confidence, I can feel the red jasper, golden tiger’s eye and green aventurine crystals I took to the hospital with me this morning still in the pocket of my jeans. The local anaesthetic has worn off and I can sense a tiny bit of twinging which is not worth the bother of a paracetamol. There are new books on my des

I’m sure you’ve heard of the film ‘Snakes On A Plane.’ How about ‘Snail On A Hive Controller’? Really, it ought to be a bee, what with it being a Hive. I expect the relevant trade union will knocking on my door forthwith, demanding I remove the offending snail and pay all the bees compensation for their hurt feelings and loss of earnings. Good luck with THAT, trade union, #channellingMargaretThatcher. Or how about ‘Cormorant On A Pole’? I saw this yesterday when Nell and I were out walking. It was perched on a pole by one of the canal bridges and was still there on our return, surveying its domain. I like to think that is what it was doing but it could have been stuck there, either by fear or chewing gum. I’ve never seen a cormorant on the canals before. Herons, ducks, geese, swans, moorhens, even a kingfisher, but never a cormorant. Lovely!  What was NOT so lovely, and here I pose a question, is this: What is it in the brain of a dog that says it is an idea both wonderful and exciting

This morning, I took some food waste up to the compost bin and when I removed the lid, the most MAHOOSIVE hornet flew out at me. Hand on heart, it was the size of a cricket bat. I know European hornets (which is what it was) aren’t aggressive like wasps but goodness it made me jump. I think it was in there because I’ve been tipping the too squishy windfall plums in there to stop Nell the Poo hoovering them up and getting an upset tummy. I think that hornet was tipsy on fermented plum juice.  Fortunately, most of this year’s plums have been harvested. Not as many as last year BUT my goodness they are enormous. I believe there is a joke in there somewhere about 'massive plums' but I'm too much of a lady to repeat such smut. However, I've heard two very good and inoffensive jokes this week.  Joke Number One:  Q. Why is there a lion in my wardrobe?  A. Narnia business! And joke Number Two: A man walks into the kitchen to find his flat-mate eating egg and soldiers. 'I di

  "Soul Midwives are non-medical, holistic companions who guide and support the dying in order to facilitate a gentle and tranquil death."  And that, as I discovered on the day course I attended on Saturday, is just the beginning of the work carried out by Soul Midwives. It was a day of discovery and revelation, light and laughter, emotional challenge, and deep thoughtfulness. So much so, in fact, that I didn't know if I was going to be able to write about it. By the time the day ended, I felt both inspired and humbled, and also completely drained. There was a LOT to take on board and I knew I had to do something to distract my mind so that I could let the information sink in, in a subliminal sort of way. I watched a load of banal TV game shows that evening and wished they'd bring back The Generation Game, like in the old days, because at least that was entertaining. Anyway, here I am today, still inspired and feeling like I am at the start of something big. Yet I am

 Sadly, I am not referring to the excellent musical ‘Spamalot’ which Lord Malarkey and I went to see goodness knows how many years ago but I remember Sanjeev Bhaskar was in it. (I’ve since told myself not to be so lazy and to look it up. Apparently, he played King Arthur in 2008! I refuse to believe it was 16 years ago we went to see it but if the Internet says it was thus, then it must be true. Tempus fugit, gather ye rosebuds, it's later than you think and all that...) Nor is it the mostly-squished-ham-of-the-processed-tinned-meat variety much beloved of my mother. To be fair, she is 84 so it can’t be THAT bad, nutrition-wise. However, I shall not be endorsing it for fear of SPAM the Company sending me, well, rewards of multiple tins of Spam. I do not wish to go to my grave famous for being a Spam influencer. Perish the thought. No, the spam-a-lot of which I speak is the spammie spam internet scam spam. Specifically, spam attacks on my blog, this blog here, of which you are curre

 Our next-door-neighbours have two grandchildren - a six year old girl and a four year old boy. When they visit, these two little ‘uns quite often have a chat with me through the garden fence about various issues of the day, but the biggest draw to chatting is, of course, Nell. Both children are nervous of dogs, the little boy especially so. But, over the last year or so, they have both taken a shine to Nell and have progressed from standing back and making friendly, if nervous, chat to her, to squatting down and pushing their small hands through the gaps in the fence in order to stroke her. And this weekend, I gave them some of Nell’s dog biscuits to post back through the fence to her, to many squeals of ‘Oooh, she licked my hand!!’ Of course, the fence remains a safety barrier for them, but I truly think that as the children grow bigger and bolder, they will request a no-barriers meeting with Nell.  A few weekends ago, I was in the kitchen and I heard the children calling for Nell, a