A New Arrival, the Village Show, and Winston

 Young Master William came into this world just one week ago.  His journey was a traumatic one, but mother and son are both doing really well and are now back home.  Home is Shanghai, for now.  

They may be many thousands of miles away but thanks to modern technology we are able to keep in close contact and have lots of photographs of him.  He has a wonderful head of jet black hair and weighed in at over 8lbs, a very handsome young man.

When his father, my youngest child, was born things were very different.  Telephone calls were very expensive and quite difficult to arrange to Saudi Arabia, which is where my husband was working at the time.  We had one short call once a week, if available.  Jonathan was several days old before my husband knew he had been born and six weeks old before he came home and saw him.   Thank goodness things are different now.

Talking of young men, Winston is also thriving and has certainly brought a new energy to this place.  It would be true to say that my husband is as fond of him as I am, and that certainly couldn't be said of my other dogs.  I think he has finally got the puppy he didn't know he had always wanted.

I am  in slight panic mode, the village show is on Saturday.  So far all I have prepared is a fruit loaf.  Time, and Winston, permitting I will bake a loaf of bread, a Victoria Sandwich and a couple of batches of scones so they can go into the auction later to raise funds for the village hall.

As I type this Winston is fast asleep in a corner by the door, he is a restless sleeper and migrates from bed, to dog chair, to floor, all the time staying virtually asleep, then snoring deeply immediately he has found his new position.  At night he sleeps in his crate and is perfectly happy to do so, which is just as well given the restless nature of his daytime naps.

A Small Dose of Village Life and Miss Read

 Last night the heavens opened and Lincolnshire got soaked.  The back garden drainage is rather poor (clay soil) so this morning when Winston dashed out, he got quite a surprise to find the whole lot was under an inch or two of water, with just a few 'dry' islands.  He wasn't quite sure what to do, until necessity spurred him on.  

I almost decided not to bother going up to the village coffee morning but in the end I pulled on my trusty Wellies and a raincoat then plodged up the road.  I will admit to enjoying myself, the water was still cascading down the road in places and I took childish delight in jumping in some of the puddles and then cleaning my boots off in the flowing water.  Luckily there was no traffic, no one to witness this silly (but most enjoyable) behaviour.

By the time I reached the village I was back to normal, sane, sensible.  Boring.

Coffee, tea, cake, raffle and plenty of chatter.  

I enjoyed a good long chat with Miss Read, she is 93 years old now and still as sharp as a tack.  Her eyesight is failing rather badly and she can no longer read or paint but she can knit straightforward things.  She knits blankets, lots of blankets.   When she has a big pile of them they are donated to care homes, charities and anywhere there is a need.

The village show will take place in less than a fortnight.  Eeek!   We may have some decent tomatoes then and the cucumbers are ripening but other than that our crops are pretty dismal this year, so I don't think we will be entering many things in Produce.

Perhaps a bit of baking, just to show willing.  So different from previous years when the show really got us fired up and entering as many classes as we could manage.   I hope it is well supported, I know from past experience just how much work goes into organising it.

Winston has lots of toys but his favourite items are a stick which he carries around with him, an old woollen sock which he loves to play tug with, and the old baby bath.  He uses this for drinking, so much nicer than his water bowl, apparently, and for washing his feet -  makes the water much more to his taste.

Enough of my babbling.  I have a young pup wanting some attention.  Time to clip on his lead and take him around Owl Wood.  Grandson No 1 has strimmed us a pathway around and through there.  Winston thinks it is the most exciting thing ever, so many scents, sounds, distractions.  He loves it. 

Later:

I love it too.  It is a short walk, perfect for a pup of his age but, because he gets sensory overload, he is totally worn out when we reach home.  Nap time for him, peace and some time to catch up on things for me.

The last few weeks have been busy.   Looking after Winston has drastically reduced the amount of time I am able to spend on my laptop, so no time for reading your blog posts, sorry.  Luckily, I have found that I can keep a reasonably close eye on him while reading a book - years of practice have gone into that!  It is how I have retained some of my sanity, although, thinking about the jumping into puddles...

Don't Forget to Wash Behind Your Ears

 When a young puppy gets a little too frisky, or too big for his boots, there is only one thing to be done.  Calm him down by flinging yourself on the ground and have a jolly good wash. 

This was the lesson Sparky chose to teach Winston this morning.

He couldn't believe his eyes.  He was stopped in his tracks and simply stood and watched her, until she decided that she was clean enough and he learned that cats do what cats want, when they want, and puppies count for nothing.

Millie decided that she preferred to have the fence between her and the puppy, but she had a wash too.

This old fencing was hastily thrown up to help contain Winston in a manageable area once we found out just how enthusiastic he is about digging, eating anything green, muddy, or dead and decomposing.  I had to put the bricks down under the gate when I caught him shimmying underneath, just as he had seen the ginger cat do - Sparky is so slender that she simply slips through the gaps...Millie is a little more pear-shaped.

The year is rumbling on while I spend all my time with the cats and the puppy.  The village show is looming, the schedule was popped into the letterbox this week.   Eeeek!   I doubt that I will be entering many classes this year.

I noticed that the blackcurrants are large and almost ripe, so I may make some blackcurrant curd, scones and a Victoria Sponge Cake.   Perhaps a loaf of bread, we will see.

As to the vegetable categories - the signs are not good in the vegetable garden.  Nothing seems to be doing well.  I guess some years are like that and little Winston has definitely diverted our attention away from our normal routines.

He is worth every moment.  

He is the most adorable and cheeky little chap.  

He would be perfect, if I could just find a way to stop him trying to eat everything in the garden.  🐶👮

Drying Octopuses on my Washing Line

 I was removing the washing from my line and thought of you Linda, aka local-kiwi-alien.   Who would have thought that I, too, would have to dry octopuses on my washing line.  All thanks to young puppy Winston, of course.   He is particularly fond of the green one, it gets dragged all around the garden with him.  Those tentacles also come in handy for a game of tug-of-war.

I indulge him.  He has been a poorly boy.  The last week has been something of a nightmare, for him and for me.  Winston developed cystitis, and needed, or felt that he needed, to be let outside every couple of minutes.  I won't go into the details.

A couple of visits to the vets, two injections and a daily dose of anti-inflammatory and painkillers and he is now feeling much better.  The only amusing part of it was being asked to collect a sample of his urine, not easy when all that was coming out was dribbles!   I managed to lull him to sleep and by some miracle I was able to keep him asleep for over an hour, by which time he was more than ready to dash outside.

This morning he is so much brighter, simply weeing for Lincolnshire, rather than for England.  He is calmer, so am I, now that we are not having to dash outside quite so often.  His appetite has returned and he is back to being able to play and enjoy all those puppy games again.

I  have not had time to read blogs, so apologies.  My whole focus has been on this little chap.  Even old Sparky was concerned about him and took time out of her busy schedule (mouse/rabbit hunting) to spend time with him.  Yesterday I found Winston fast asleep in the porch with Sparky sitting on the bench just above, watching over him with a benevolent eye.  

How to Lose Weight without Dieting

Lose weight without dieting?  

How is that possible?  

Get yourself a puppy!

Sweet, cuddly, adorable?   Absolutely!  

My little tyke is all of those things, but he is also hell-bent on trying to kill himself.  

  

He snatches at daisies, lavender, buttercups and, generally, any flowers he can reach.  He is also rather partial to munching on big chunks of moss, snatching up twigs, sticks, large pebbles, small pebbles,  pheasant droppings, hedgehog poop and tiny fallen apples, cat litter...to name but a few forbidden delights. 

The cats have been very clever.  They spent the first few days steering clear of him at all times, however, they simply observed.    Then they took action, deliberately taunting him, secure in the knowledge that they can simply turn around and hiss angrily at him, or jump out of reach.  This stops him in his tracks and he romps back to me.

Everything Winston does is done at pace, of course!  So I have spent much of the last couple of weeks charging around in hot pursuit, ready to scoop him up to remove him from danger.  

I have begun training him and he is very receptive, except when he is not!  

He takes several naps throughout the day - for which I am truly thankful, for young Winston has turned our peaceful lives upside down.  The gardens and the house have all been zoned into accessible/safe-ish areas.  Thank goodness we have internal stable doors for when the cats require feeding, but Winston is awake and on the prowl.  

'See it, eat it!' is his motto.

Organised chaos.  Long days and short nights.  My house and garden are constantly evolving as we strive to make them reasonably puppy-safe.     Luckily, he is easily distracted by a squeaky toy, or a thrown ball.  But, he doesn't forget, he goes back for more fun later.  

I adore the little chap, but I am worn out.  

Most of it is down to Winston, but there have been other things going on at the same time - our dear DiL, MingMing, was in hospital in Shanghai for a week.   Thankfully, all is well, but it was a worrying time.  At the same time, our oldest grandson has been/is doing his GCSE exams, which means that often a lift to/from school is necessary.   The school bus is generally pretty good, but it doesn't always arrive on time and no one needs the extra stress of that before an examination.

As for the title of this post - well, Winston has been with us a little under three weeks and I have shed half a stone.  An unexpected benefit, but I'll take that.

His latest bit of mischief?  The safest area of the garden (newly fenced, especially for him) also happens to contain the old hurdy-gurdy washing line, a horrible contraption, but useful.  This morning just after I had pegged out a wash load, young Mr Winston came along and pulled one or two of the longer articles off the line.

Another job to add to the 'To Do' list.  Buy a new washing line and site it in another area of the garden, out of Winston's reach.    Meanwhile, the vegetable beds have now all been enclosed in new fencing because Winston has show a great desire to get stuck into them.  The polytunnel has some old fly-screen doors pressed back into use to act like stable doors and prevent him from getting in and poisoning himself with the tomato plants, etc.

He keeps us on our toes!

I haven't had any time to read your blog posts or do any of my usual internet reading.  This post has been typed up over several days, so apologies if it is a complete mess.  No time to correct anything.  Winston is finally asleep and I need to get some food organised for when the school bus brings the grandchildren home.

Bye for now.

There is a Very Good Reason why Old People Shoudn't Have Babies...

 ...or take on young puppies.  

They are exhausting!  Really exhausting.  Routine life goes out of the window.

Yes, they are adorable bundles of fun but they chew carpets, rugs, furniture, fingers and clothes.  All with great enthusiasm and affection, even when they accidently draw blood.  Then there is the over enthusiastic gardening.  Not digging, yet.  Just grabbing any foliage, flowers or moss, along with a side-serving of bird poo, if available.  The careering around the garden, oblivious to the danger of a drop onto the paving slabs, or the danger of squeezing into a narrow gap by the wall.  

They also get between, in front, just behind and to the side of your feet.  Every footstep has to be monitored.  One develops a kind of 'puppy walk' widely spaced feet and constant scanning!  It looks weird, but it does work.  Very necessary when one is older.  Last thing we need is a tumble, or an injured puppy.

Winston was due to move in here on Sunday morning, but in the event he came at around 5pm on Saturday.  He is an amazing ball of energy who keeps on going, until he suddenly stops.  Snooze time.  Luckily he has plenty of naps.  I couldn't cope otherwise! 

Once he gets to sleep I spend time working with the old cats.  They are coming round.  Millie is still not impressed, but she is back in her favourite high-level spots and demanding food, special food because she is so traumatised.  Nice try Millie!  

Sparky has assessed the little chap, decided that he is a bit of a nuisance, but not a threat.  She has taken over the porch and insists on being fed out there, luckily it is quite large and has a very long window sill.  Between that, and the bench seat at the end, she is quite happy.  She has her own entrance, fresh air, a great view of the bird activity in the garden and access to all her facilities.  If she and Winston happen to come face to face in the garden, she stands her ground and he leaves her alone.

It has gone better than expected.  The length of my day has expanded, my knees have callouses from crawling around the floor playing with Winston,   I am grubby and worn out, but all my animals are happy and my husband is still getting fed homemade food.  The house even gets an occasional hoover - mainly because I am determined that the puppy will become used to all the normal household appliances, doorbells, telephones, and so on.

He is crate trained now and sleeps in it from 10.30pm until around 4.30-4.45am, when I let him out to do the necessary in the garden.  So far, so good.    He also takes daytime naps in there. It is his special place.

It is early days, but he is a delight.  Yes he has slightly weak back legs, but the vet has checked him over and is not concerned.  Yes he is rather brighter than my usual boys, so bright that I should be putting his name down for a good school, were he human.  Luckily he is not. 

Yes, our nice peaceful life has been radically changed, our routine totally trashed.  That is a good thing.  It is too easy to become set in our ways.  A little shake-up now and then is probably good for us.

Finished with Dogs Forever

 Parsonage Cottage had a visitor today, Winston.   

My first problem was trying to pick him out from the little gang of ten puppies.  He is a little smaller, but when you have ten very enthusiastic, almost identical, puppies standing on their back legs wagging their tails, it is really difficult.

I failed with my first pick, but got it right with the second.  His mother came over and gave me a jolly good sniff, demanded a little bit of attention and then walked off.  She seemed quite happy that I was borrowing one of her boys.

Winston toddled around the kitchen, boot room and conservatory sniffing everything before settling down and having a play with his new toys.  He may be a little smaller than the others, a little weaker, but he seems quite a bright little thing and quickly learnt the difference in my tone from gentle disapproval to happy approval with his choice of chewing material.

Millie, the ginger cat, spotted the little invader.  She didn't hiss, but she did fluff up to twice her normal size then kept peering at the little puppy who looks so much like herself.  She couldn't decide what to make of him so she took to her favourite bed up on top of a sideboard, where she could spy on him. 

Sparky was disgusted.  She simply stalked off, didn't even bother to fluff herself up.  No doubt she had thought we had finished with dogs forever.  She came home when she was hungry, so did Millie.  The signs are good. 

Winston tucked into his lunch with great appetite and would have eaten more, had there been any.   I took him back outside for a few minutes of exploration.   We have a daisy sprinkled lawn and I ended up singing "Don't, don't, don't eat the daisies..." as I moved him on to a section which is free from flowers.    Sorry, Winston, the sooner you learn that I have a song for most occasions...

Back inside and the need for another nap came upon him.   We had one more play session then it was time to take him home.  He had been with us for three and a half hours.  

When I put him back into the outdoor pen with his brothers and sisters they all romped over and gave him a good sniffing.   He took it well.     The short time he had been away from them seemed to have given him more confidence.   He simply snatched up a few blades of grass and trotted around with them hanging out of his mouth, with the others in hot pursuit, they wanted that grass!  

The runt had become the leader.  It was so funny.

This is a photograph of him tonight, back with his mum (not in the photograph) and having a nap away from his livelier family. 

Eight o'clock on Sunday morning is when he moves into this place.  He will be the first one to leave home.  Most of the others will be collected later that day.  

In other news, the bread oven is progressing very nicely.  It should be ready for action in a couple of weeks, so expect there to be either biblical rain, or a heatwave as I give it some trial firings.  😉

Capturing the Essence

 A few years ago I had great fun trying to recreate the covers of some of my cookery books.   You could say that I had too much time on my hands, all I know is that I had a lot of fun.  

I posted one or two here, a long time ago.   

I was trying to capture the essence of the cover, rather than slavishly recreating them.  Some are more successful than others.  They were all fun, some of the simplest ones were the most difficult to capture.

I quite liked the way this one turned out, just a preserving pan, a cloth, garlic cloves, an old tankard and the look was there.

I kept this one simple.

This one was photographed outside against a hedge because I couldn't magic up a house lookalike.

I used one of Frankie's dolls to do this little bit of fun.

I 

I had to abandon the little wicker basket for this one, it was impossible to fit it in without obscuring the book cover.  I quite liked the result though.  It was inspired by some large plums in the fruit bowl.

I had a large quantity of red apples, padded my largest soup pan then put apples near the top, and the job was done, once I had found the right place to position it in order to capture the wooden surface.

I'm not quite sure where I was going with this one, but I quite like it.

Impossible to recreate this cover, so I gathered up all things mustard and hoped for the best.

Once again the cover was impossible to recreate, so I just threw in a few country elements.

The same with this one, just Mr Fox and a hunting horn.

I remember doing this one, it was ridiculously difficult trying to prop the book at the correct angle without anything else showing, then the lighthouse wouldn't sit correctly.  I was quite pleased in the end.

This one came about when I had been having fun with baking some fancy rolls.  Out came my picnic basket, pile in the rolls.  Job done!

Sparky decided to assist on this one.  I am not sure that I ever managed to finish this particular photo shoot.  

No, I haven't taken up the crazy suggestion of eating insects, but I did my best to extend the cover, using a silk scarf from my collection.  It does a reasonable job, I think.

I don't suppose I will do any more, that phase has passed.  It was fun while it lasted, and it has been fun for me to look back at the nonsense my brain comes up with.   My head is a restless place!

Walkies with Winston

 This area is perfect for walking.  

Of course I have my favourite routes, but I also like to mix things up a bit.  Sometimes I stick to tracks through and around the local farms, at others I venture out to neighbouring villages and along the lanes.

A quick visit to the church reminded me that I still haven't been up there with my polish and dusters.  Add it to the to-do list.  Somehow I find the thought of dusting and polishing the pews and rails rather more appealing than doing my own housework.

Country lanes and country cottages.   Always beautiful, but a spot of sunshine and warmth makes them even more so.

I always stop and have a chat with any of the livestock which takes an interest.  This splendid new gate has only recently taken the place of a very old and decrepit railway gate strung with barbed wire.  Just as well, the bull is also in this field, and he is a beautiful and very powerful beast.  He was too far over the field for me to be able to photograph him.

Splendid walking, even on the cloudier days.  I can't wait to eventually be able to share these walks with Winston.  It will take quite a while, but in time he should be enjoying them as much as I do.

Meanwhile, this was him yesterday.

I love that serious little face but I really hope to be able to put a smile on it soon.  Those little legs need to grow and firm up before he is ready to tackle a real walk.  Owl Wood and the gardens will be fine for quite a while. 

He comes from a long line of gun dogs, that's not what lies ahead for Winston.  I think that is just as well, he really is the runt of the litter, a little less strong, etc.  Perfect for being my walking companion, rather than a working dog.

Sunday is the day he comes home.  

A Cup of Parsonage Soup

 No, not a recipe.  Just listing some of the ingredients which have made me so busy for the last few days..

I have made several visits to see the puppy, of course.  Added to which, I have spent far too much time looking at the extraordinarily long list of puppies' requirements.  Goodness me.  If one were to follow those lists it would be almost as expensive as preparing to welcome a first baby.  

I have managed to mow all the lawns again, and done some seriously boring housework.  No more need be said about that.

Granddaughter, Frankie, had a stall at the annual plant sale of a local church, so we went along and made some purchases from her.  No family discount, apparently business is business!

I hasten to add that we didn't ask for any discount, she has been doing these plant sales, as well as having a plant table outside the house, as a way to raise money for when she is old enough to undertake a World Challenge.  She has done remarkably well so far.  

The local church is the one Frankie attended Sunday School for many years.    She is always very comfortable at events here.  I think she enjoyed it more than ever this year because she had just come home from a school trip to France.  She has discovered that travelling is wonderful, but home is a great place to come back to.

We all got the most enormous bear-hugs and a lengthy discourse on her time away.  France was fine but she didn't like all the school work they had to do, the food was okay, but home cooked is better.  Only five people were up for trying the snails and frogs legs, one of that number was Frankie, of course.  Mussels taste much nicer was her opinion, though whether she was referring to the snails or the frogs, I don't know.  

Frankie has never been short on confidence, but she seems even more self-assured and more mature.  Appreciative of even the little things we do.  How long will it last? 😇

I also visited an exhibition which looked at the animal myths in the religions of the First Nations and pre-Columbian culture of the Americas.  Fascinating stuff, but difficult to get any good photographs.

If memory serves me, this is a clay figure, possibly 9th Century, from the Honduras.  

A llama bone carving,

 900 bce, Chavin Culture Peru.

A Navajo Tree of Life Rug, 20th Century.

I have been working on my painting, when Sparky allows me access to my work table.  She has ignored it for weeks but as soon as I began putting out my paints and setting things up for painting, she decided that it was the place to be.  Not only that, it was imperative that she streeeeeeeeeeeeetch right out, almost the full length of the table...

She won.  I went away and got on with other jobs.  She got bored and went outside.  I got to do a little painting.  Honestly, cats!

My Folk Art

 Real artists look away, this will hurt your eyes.  

This is simply folk art, for my family.  The story of our time at Parsonage Cottage, a converted old cow shed/cart shed/stables.

It is a year or two since I last did anything to it.  It was around the time I had to have Toby Too put to sleep.  I painted his shadow self in pale grey, but then I felt too sad to continue.

This morning I suddenly found myself taking the painting off the wall and rummaging for my acrylic paints.  The time has come to do some more work on it, to continue the story.

My beloved dogs feature, of course.  Here we have Pip leading the pack just as she always led the boys into all things naughty.  What a girl.  It was the terrier in her.   The two boys she ruled were Toby and Ned.  Poor Ned was deaf, and Toby was gullible, always fell for her tricks.  

The fourth black dog is Toby Too.    Toby Too was a singleton, he didn't know the other dogs but he was my boy so he can roam with the others.

I have  painted out several hens, but there were many.  Rescue hens, they arrived almost bald but as they grew back their feathers so their cheeky and friendly characters grew.  They were enormous fun, we let them roam in Owl Wood all day, once they had become used to having space instead of a cage around them.   

So far I have roughly blocked in two of the cats, Sparky and Bennie, just Millie to block in somewhere. 

The owl box is tucked up on a tree, no owls painted in so far, although I have begun painting our frequent visitor, the woodpecker.  Many trees bear the scars of his visits!

The little red tractor is there to represent Mrs T, the farmer.  She used to whizz around the barley field in her little red tractor or driving the trailer as her son drove the combine harvester.  They were a great team.  It is also there because young Harry adored the stories of The Little Red Tractor, especially the one which featured the Muddy Man, that one stimulated a mixture of faux fear and giggles.  It worked every time.

The sunflowers are there because we used to have a sunflower competition.  Lily-of-the-valley because I am forever trying to grow it in memory of my mother.  And so on.  All the elements tall a story.

This is where I have begun blocking in Winston.  I decided that he could sit and watch the big black spirit boys romping by. 

The house now has two very beautiful wisteria growing along it, and there is also a grapevine, so lots more to add to the house and no doubt there will be other little tweaks and additions.  

It is a story with a few more chapters to go yet, I hope!

I know it is rough and ready, the point is that it tells a story.

Rough and Ready or Carefully Planned?

 I admit that I am very much a rough and ready blogger.  I squeeze blog writing and reading into a few minutes here and there.   My real life is busy, I just don't have the time to spend hours on the internet, which is why it can sometimes take me a while to read your blog posts, answer comments and so on.

Even if I had all the time in the world I think I would probably still blog at speed.  An idea pops into my head and I dash off a post.  Grammar and punctuation suffer, because I often don't read things back until after they have been posted and then when I do get the chance to read them back I sometimes blush with embarrassment at the silly mistakes!  Ah, well.

Posts are written on my laptop, which is handy because my photographs can be accessed from there, although if I have taken them with my phone I have to email them to myself and go from there.  I won't allow my devices to talk to one another.  It makes things a little more complicated but that is the way I choose to do it.

Think it, or see it, dash off a post and publish it.  Walk away and get on with other things.  Slap dash, but if I were to try another method it wouldn't be me, it would be me trying too hard to be someone I am not.

Which leads me on to wondering about what kind of blogger you are.  Do you plan carefully, write and rewrite, plan your posts?

I would love to know.  As far as I am concerned, whatever method you use is the right one for you.  I am not here to judge.  I am just curious, although some may call me a nosey parker!

Going, Going & Gone

 Several years ago, I mentioned to my husband that I thought the big log store was starting to tilt.  He took a look and assured me that I was mistaken, all was perfectly as it should be.

To be fair, the winter storms have done some extra damage, and as you can see, that particular store has now become nothing more than a dumping ground for rat traps, pickaxes, tools, tubs and anything which doesn't have an official home.  It is now a wreck and he has had to admit that yes, it is tilting!

Never mind, it is set to become a project for Grandpa and grandson to work on during the summer.  That should be fun and a good test of their relationship.

That is where it fits into the garden, down by the vegetable beds.

It looks so much better from a distance.

A few days ago this beautiful, old ramshackle shed was taken down.  Not one of our sheds, I hasten to add.  This old place used to be home to a beautiful Barn Owl who would perch on a beam, just above the head of dear old Arnold, a horse who used to take shelter from the midday sun in there.  The two animals were perfectly at ease with one another.

Of course Arnold is long gone, so is the owl.  Goodbye old shed, it really was good to know you.

A little further into the village, although just across a couple of hedges if you go the field way, was this cottage.  It had been empty for several decades while there were discussions about what to do with it...

It had a huge garden at the front, and it looks as though there used to be an archway through the middle of the cottage(s).  It had some charm about it, but it was in a dreadful state.

Another building gone.  Demolished and a new build in there.

Typing this, my eye keeps getting drawn to the enormous chimney stack on the cottage.  In all the years I walked past it I hadn't noticed how out of proportion it is to the size of the cottage.

All these little changes, old buildings gone and something rather less charming built in their place. Change happens, even in a tiny village.     

I need to remember that chimney, keep it in proportion!

Wednesday

Last Saturday my oldest grandchild was 16 years old.  The request for a Victoria Sponge Sandwich cake seemed a little modest for such an important birthday.  So I made it a triple decker, pulled out all the stops and gave it my best effort.

 No finesse, but it made my grandson's eye open wide with delight, and that was the aim.

On Tuesday, I paid another visit to Winston.  When I arrived there were nine puppies romping around their pen, wrestling with one another, dragging toys around and generally having a great time. 

Winston, next to the toy, this photograph makes him look larger than he is.

The tenth puppy had fallen asleep by the water bowl.  Young Winston came over to see me, had a bit of fun and then just keeled over with tiredness.  The remaining puppies continued to chew my fingers, clamber all over me and generally have a good time.  As the minutes ticked by, each one flopped over to sleep.  Full tummies and tiredness did their work.  Peace for half an hour.  Their mothers (the canine one, and the human) were delighted.  

I left them to it and came home to get working on the list of things I need to do before the puppy comes home.

Back to today.  I did a little housework, then walked into the village to have coffee with a friend.  

A retired farmer, R is a no nonsense, straightforward woman.  We have known each other for well over a decade now.  She worked her own farm in a neighbouring village, sheep mostly, with a few head of cattle.

Our friendship really began at the village hall, not long after she sold the farm and retired to this village.   This was back in the days when we used to have a  'TED' meeting once a month.  There would be some kind of activity - local history, cards,  craft talks...all pretty excruciating, apart from the local history,  but the people who gathered together were a nice bunch.  It was just some of the activities which were rather cringe-making.  

The virus put paid to all that.  When things got back to normal we changed to monthly coffee mornings, with cake, or soup and a roll.  It has proved popular and brought in some slightly younger faces.

This is R's Bill.  He was a feisty little dog who turned up as a stray, at R's farm, many years ago.  After a week in the dog pound, with no one interested in him, R took him home and he lived very happily with her until he became ill a couple of years ago.

R and I took a while to get around to discussing politics, probably around two years!  It would be true to say that it was a pleasant surprise to find that our views aligned.  It was good to see her today,  we both had a rant.  My blog is not a soap-box for my political/world views,  but there are times when I wish it were!  

In a little over two months it will be time for the annual village show.  I'm not sure what we will have ready, but we will do our best to enter some classes.  I must see if I can get my hands on a schedule and do some planning, jam, pickle, curd and cakes are fairly standard.  It would be good if there was a bread category, I could have some fun. 

I noticed today that the elderflowers have begun to flower in reasonable numbers, time for me to get making some elderflower cordial, perhaps even an elderflower and ginger one, for variety.  Elderflower champagne is easy and delicious but I do not want to risk having any glass bottles explode in the pantry, not with Winston around!

Finally, the drizzle has stopped, a good breeze is blowing the grass dry, so I hope to be able to get outside and do an hour of mowing before I decide that enough is enough for today.  It is May, lots of people like to do No-Mow-May, really not practical in this place, far too much lawn.  We always leave a large area to go wild through the summer, plus there is all of Owl Wood, which pretty much does its own thing until much later in the year.

Coming Soon to Parsonage Cottage

 

This is Winston, he is just six weeks old and is still with his mum at the moment.

All my previous dogs have been second hand, rejects from dog rescue centres, usually the special offer of the day.  One or two had had extremely rough lives.  They all required lots of love and patience and ultimately they grew to be the most wonderful companions, they learned to live with cats, chickens and my grandchildren.

I wanted to do the same this time round, but it has proven to be very difficult, for various reasons.

Long story short, this little fellow is the smallest, the runt, from a litter of 10 puppies born just a couple of fields away from here.  Long time readers will know where I mean, when I say that he was born at Old John the beekeeper's place.