Little Dramas

Thank goodness Chris is away until Friday.....for some reason Albert has increased his rodent collecting abilities and since the infamous "rat incident" he has brought into the house no less than 6 field mice in 24 hours!.

Mabel, the only dog not to be swayed by Albert's rodent obsession

Of course the terriers have enjoyed these little gifts immensely, mouthing and crunching them like Nigella's Christmas titbits at a cocktail party.......only Mabel, from her position of comfort on the kitchen sofa, has refused to join in any of the fun.

Yesterday I posted the Christmas Cards, and delivered the ones in the village. It was a dry, cold day, which was perfect for walking around with a load of paper and as I ambled from one house to another, I saw an elderly lady, I only know very vaguely, standing in her front garden.

As I stopped to say a brief hello, she came to the gate to make a fuss of William, who I had brought out with me, and although she was pleasant enough, there was something in her affect that pricked my attention.

As I exchanged chit chat, the lady's husband came out of their house and joined her. I know him a little better, and as we made small talk , out of the corner of my eye I noticed that his wife had moved quietly away to the garden hedge where she pottered around the privet.

Only after I had started to walk off, did I realise that she had in fact started to water the hedge with a tiny indoor watering can..and finally the penny dropped.... the lady obviously was suffering from some sort of dementia.

As I looked back, I saw the man gently guiding his wife back to the house. He waved brightly as she took her slightly shaky tiptoe steps...and I couldn't help thinking, that behind every little neat garden, and inside every curtained window in the village, little dramas are being played out every hour of every day.

Only ours have more mice in them than most

Please, Please, Please,

Hijacked by the sickly sweet John Lewis Advert... this sad little song has nothing to do with Christmas
It is perhaps the saddest song I have heard in a long time

A Rat Under The Sofa

It is 5.45.am

I have been awake since 4.55am

As you know, I just DON'T DO mornings..

and I am not a happy Bunny.

Chris woke me up with a somewhat worried "Something is squeaking under the sofa"

He was up early as he is due to work in London this week, but even so.......informing me of a half dead mouse at that time was just NOT ON.

Of course I could not sleep.

I could hear William and Albert scuttling around the lounge after the poor animal, so I thought "fuck it" and after getting dressed waded knee deep into the melee

Chris was standing there holding my wind up torch in his dressing gown .

He looked worried. 

"There's a rat under the draft excluder" he said lamely.

Chris doesn't DO rodents!

"Get me the rolling pin" I ordered....taking charge of the situation and I rolled my sleeves up ready for a bit of a tussle.

Chris returned with a large pepper grinder

Typical academic

I huffed, found the rolling pin, and after removing the excluder, gave the small rat a couple of hefty whacks

He was bloody invincible!

Chased by William and a somewhat joyous Albert ( who was thoroughly enjoying himself) the rat made a dash for the bookcase. then dived behind the radiator before squeezing himself under the writing desk....

By this time I had just about had enough.... the room resembled Dresden after the bombing ,and my first cup of coffee of the day seemed a real age away...so  swearing like an old docker, I marched into the kitchen, donned one of Chris' old moterbike gloves, marched back to the lounge ( still swearing) and after pulling away the frantic animals reached down and grabbed the struggling rat by the throat.

He knew the game was up

Shaking with early morning anger... I strode to the back door, took a deep breath and threw the rat across the lane and against the Church wall, killing him instantly...

Message to all rodents... don't mess with Mr Gray before he has had his morning coffee

Keeping In Touch

It's a cold, windy and rather wet night.

I am sat at the kitchen table after the marathon of Christmas Card writing.

A Sherlock Holmes mystery is playing on the radio.

There are four piles of cards in front of me

55 for stamp posting

60 for village delivery

10 or so for family

and an eclectic pile of 15 "miscellaneous" cards "to do"

Usually I absolutely adore the yearly tradition of card writing

This year it's been done... but my heart wasn't quite in it

Decs, Confirmation and the Trelawnyd Oskar Schindler

Our New York snowglobe caught in the Christmas lights

It's been a day for old traditions.

We bought the tree, decorated the living room and ate mince pies (the best sainsburys could muster) in front of the fire.

Chris and Cannon Robert

 Chris went to Church this afternoon and collected his confirmation certificate from the vicar, and dressed in wellies and smelling of dung, I met them both after the service to capture the "official moment"......it always amuses me , that on all formal photographs Chris has a tendency to show off his Roger Moore eyebrow......

Which one would you choose

And on a fairly festive feeling day....I will leave you all with a heart warming tale of Christmas past....

Five years ago, at the beginning of December...I had only one turkey living on the field.

Boris was a mere youngster then...a rather skinny adolescent with a winning nature and an lonely disposition, he spent the short days of winter wandering his enclosure in the vain hope of finding a busty mate.

Unsure of exactly where to get a female turkey from, I put an advertisement up at the post office which read

Wanted

Female TURKEY for sex starved Stag

looks and age immaterial

No time wasters Please

On the 5th of December I received a phone call from a poultry farmer in Hollywell, informing me that he was about to cull his entire flock of English Whites, and if I was quick I could have one female!

I jumped at the chance.

And minutes after the call, I found myself standing in a huge aircraft hanger of a barn, looking at 800, fat, stupid and very loud Christmas turkeys.

"Help yourself" the farmer said and I suddenly found myself with the awesome responsibility of choosing one turkey survivor out of hundreds!

which one should I pick?

Which one looked more nervous?

Which one had the most gentle or needy expression?

I was literally spoilt for choice.....as 1,600 dark soulful eyes watched my every move......

Who would I save?

Which girl would have the opportunity to gallop gaily in a green field with the sun on her beak?

I looked pleadingly at the farmer for inspiration, and without a pause he bent down a picked up a slightly slickly looking female who just had been pecked on the back of her head.....

"Here... have this one" he said..... as he plonked her under my arm

"What should I call her?" I asked, trying to make conversation

He smiled and laughed

"I'd call her fucking lucky....that's what I would call her!"

And that's how Gloria appeared here on the field!........

I told the story to Jason today, when he stopped by when on a dog walk....

"You're a regular turkey Oskar Schindler " he said brightly, when I had finished!

Christmas prep

Today has been a day for normality.
Cleaning the kitchen, getting Christmas cards planned ( I have usually written and sent mine by the start of December!) and organising small, inexpensive gifts.
Traditionally I send small, sweet Christmas decorations to a couple of friends and to my mother in law every December...so these need to go off too, ..........
There is a chill in the air today too, the first time I think it has felt really cold....... Auntie Glad, back from a week's holidays caught me in the centre of the village and held my hand kindly and tightly as she mentioned my brother......
"Get inside Gladys" I told her" you'll catch a chill!"
"Oh I don't mind the cold" she said brightly "it kills the bugs!!!"

End Of An Era

It was odd going to a "family" funeral today with only two sisters sat in the pews.... It seemed lob sided somehow...and just a little bit inappropriate. and the feeling kind of wrong footed me  as we filed in to the crowded Church.

I mentioned it to the congregation before I gave the eulogy....but I didn't have too much time to ad lib as the vicar wrong footed me too , and asked me to do my reading much earlier than the time  shown on the "programme"

It went ok...I didn't stumble over my words too much ( thanks to a million or so rehearsals in the kitchen yesterday) and no one threw prayer books at me for saying anything inappropriate......

Mike Peters did a moving couple of songs .......we all sang a lusty "Bread of Heaven" and suddenly and rather strangely the whole day seemed suddenly over..........

Andrew (third from left) with some celebrity chums

Tonight, next to the fire and covered in dogs...all cosy like, I aim to raise a large glass of something, and give Andrew a good natured "Bottoms up!"........

A Breather

I am going to take a few days away from blogging.

I have been making a somewhat eclectic "to do" list in the gloom of the kitchen and writing in my diary (albeit an online one) seems a million miles away

So far today I have written

Flu Jab (tick)

Arrange George's haircut (tick)

Buy methylated spirits (One of the Crackheads has leg mite)

Ring Work about when I am returning, (tick)

Deliver Eggs (tick)

Find a pair of decent funeral trousers (not ticked!)

Organise a brief jaunt to Sheffield before Christmas ( almost ticked)

Ring abattoir re pigs (not ticked)

Kill rat which is lurking under back shed (organised though not ticked)

Write Christmas cards and send overseas gifts (whatever!)

Write my Brother's funeral eulogy (NOT ticked)

Yes....I will hopefully be back in a few days

hey ho x