Lending a Hand...Timber!

Our new neighbours are working hard to sort out their new house and gardens.   Fair to say they were not expecting to have to work quite so hard.  

Several weeks before the old neighbours left a huge limb fell from this pine tree during high winds and heavy rain, making the rest of the tree unstable.       We would have been quite happy to help the old neighbours to make it safe and tidy things, but it was left as it was for the new people*.  
*For blogging purposes, I'll call them Mr & Mrs ND (Next Door)

It was a three man job.   One to watch for traffic along the lane (just a few yards beyond the tree) one on the chainsaw, one using the tirfor winch.  

Gratuitous photo of Benedict - just because I can
and because I miss him.x

The enormous size of the tree, and the proximity of the road, meant the only safe place to drop it was Benedict's paddock.   He is still away on his winter holiday, and doing well, according to Oscar's daughter-in-law.   Oscar is having some nursing care at the moment, he is still an amazing and wonderful man and likes to know all the village news.

I took the opportunity to have a look into Oscar's rickety old barn, hoping to see the Barn Owl who sometimes perches in there.    No luck.

I had to go into Benedict's old stable, just because I could.

I stood there savouring the smell of hay and horse.    Sweet, sweet smells and sweet memories of Benedict.

Caught in my memories, I turned just in time to see the owl, as he flew out through that door.   He was less than a foot away from me, pale and silent, incredibly beautiful.   I guess he has decided that since Benedict is not using the place...

Meanwhile, the chainsaw had been used to cut out a wedge of tree, the tirfor winch was under tension and the tree was creaking.........timberrrrrrrrrr!

More work for the new neighbours, but at least the tree is safely down and won't be falling on the road.

Incidentally, we now have an immigrant living next door.

Mr ND is English but his wife is Scottish.    You can imagine her surprise when she went to register for some local services and she was told her application would be the same one used by an immigrant to the country.  She has a great sense of humour and saw the funny side.

Tonight is quiz night at the village pub.   We are supposed to be going up there with Mr & Mrs ND.   Not sure that Max and I will supply any intelligent answers, but it should be a bit of fun.  

Mind you, the quiz doesn't start until after 9pm.  We're normally both thinking about our bedtime cocoa and pj's by that time.....zzzzzzzzzzzzz.
fliss&max
x

Neighbours, New and Old

Little Bunting is a quiet place with just a few dozen houses, a tavern, two fishing ponds, a trout farm and a village hall.    We used to have a  church, a village school, a post office, grocery shop, drapery shop, cobbler, coffin maker,  blacksmith, butcher, coal merchant and doctor's surgery ... not bad for such a tiny village.

The most recent one to close was the blacksmith's.   It was a sad day when everything was put up for auction, another link to the past lost.  People came from far and wide.

The church was dismantled in the mid 1600's, the stone was used in a neighbouring village.   The man who arranged all of this ultimately lost his head at the Tower of London.   I don't think the two events are linked.

There are plenty of really nice people and a decent local social life, if one wishes to jump on the merry-go-round (I don't, however I do attend some lovely gatherings occasionally) but this tiny village also seems to attract some, strange characters.

There was one man, since passed away, who had developed quite a despicable business in selling wild birds.    Part of his gathering process involved special glue and trees, the trees which we now call Owl Wood.  Perhaps even more surprising was the list of people who bought them from him, including one extremely well known film actor.

Another caused a national newspaper sensation when decidedly risque photographs were published...this person has since relocated to Europe.

Then there are the peculiar people, the ones who used to lurk and peer from behind hedges and walls and all manner of strange things which are best left unsaid.   They left last week, one day a removals van appeared, loaded up and off  they went to who knows where.

We now have some brand new neighbours.   We have high hopes.

They dropped by for a cup of tea yesterday and seem very happy, jolly people.   Fingers crossed!

*    *   *


Old Oscar remains in hospital.  We've visited him a few times, he remains an amazing man and still doesn't look anywhere near his 98 years.

I collect his mail and take it in to read to him.   He receives lots of Christmas cards from far and wide and it makes for a jolly half hour to sit there and read them to him.   Then he tells me a little about who has sent them, where they live and various reminiscences.

It would be lovely to see him back home, not sure that this is possible any time soon - but then the NHS is always ready to boot patients out asap.

I couldn't mention Oscar without talking about Benedict.   I have been told that he is enjoying his little holiday, I'd much rather hear it from the horse's mouth though.   He used to do a bit of 'Mr Ed' type mouthing, I never managed to capture an image, unfortunately.    I didn't actually hear words either, so don't worry.      Goodness, how I used to love that programme when I was a young girl.




p.s.  I am fully aware that their perception of me could be interesting, too!x

Waving Goodbye to Benedict

This beautiful old horse is about to go away on his holidays.
He was never mine, he belongs to Oscar.
Unfortunately Oscar isn't too well right now
and the family have decided that Benedict should be
sent on holiday for a while.

I'll miss him and my twice-daily visits to him,

the wonderful way he greets me, frisks my pockets

and head butts me in affection

as I tell him what a fine and handsome horse he is.   

He will miss the pony nuts, carrots, apple and polo mints.

I love you, Benedict.

Come back safe and sound in the Spring.

xxx
(Sobbing silently into my hanky
and preparing to put a brave face on for the grandchildren,
especially Merry, who loves him almost as much as I do.)

Flying Hooves on Saturday

My Saturday morning was quiet, some simple pottering, walking the dog, and a little sewing.  Gentle and enjoyable.  

Max continued working on the hen house extension.  

The extension is going to become a garage for Hector's little car, which will be a great improvement on the nylon car cover, which probably wouldn't survive another winter.

I decided to nip down to see Benedict a little earlier than normal as I wanted to go to the Little Bunting Bazaar and I didn't want to arrive there in my dirty old jacket and horse-grubby hands, although I am sure no-one would have noticed.

Because I was early Benedict was in the middle of the field, grazing.   As I went in the yard he lifted his head and looked across, then amazed me by whinnying and cantering over to me.

I didn't know that old horse could move so fast!    

He was all flying mane, tail and hooves.   It was impressive and beautiful.    He finished up with a playful (powerful) nudge of my shoulder, almost knocking me off my feet.

I think he was happy to see me!   Of course he associates my visits with food and company, a bright spot in his quiet day.    I hope he also feels some of the love I have for him, he certainly stands there stoically, as I hug him and murmur sweet nothings to him.

A quick nip home, to wash my hands and change into something a little cleaner, then I walked back along our muddy little lane (wearing wellies, one has to be practical!) and down to the village hall.  

All the windows and doors were closed.   They couldn't fool me though, I knew a 'party' was going on in there!  

I walked in and was hit by a wall of heat and stuffy air, almost turned tail and back into the bracing wind and finger-nipping cold outside.

The place seemed full, but this is a tiny village hall and twenty people can make it seem as though it is bursting at the seams.    Unbuttoning my coat I dug deep into my pockets, purchasing raffle tickets for this and that,  bought tombola tickets, a cake and a jar of  marmalade.     I didn't want to buy tee shirts, or ornaments, calendars  or rather dull books, so  I bought a cup of tea and a mince pie.

I had a dozen quick conversations with people I rarely see, then had a good long chat with Mrs Read who told me a few more snippets about her wedding and reception (Dovecote Dell, 1953) she also pointed out a relative newcomer to the village, to their mutual delight they had discovered that Mrs Read had taught her, many years ago.

She was sitting all alone, probably enjoying some peace and quiet, but I went and introduced myself anyway and we had a great chat and have arranged to do some dog walking together.  

Another flit around the hall, a few more pounds spent on tickets for things I hope I won't win, and then back out into the deliciously cold and invigorating air.   Bliss!

When I got home I was greeted by this lovely sight...

The best part of the day was the greeting that this boy gave me though.   Who would have thought he could still move like that?

Poppy and Miles, we'll be Skyping you later, love, Mumxxxxxxxxxxx                                              

The Stone Tape and Reclaimed Bricks

Little Bunting is a very small village, so small happenings seem much larger than they are.  

Take these beautiful, higgledy-piggledy buildings..

Over the last decade, or so, I have watched as this range of old buildings have slipped from charming decay into down-right dangerous.     I have often been surprised to see that they have weathered the fierce gales and torrential rains of a storm.

Despite their charming appearance, these old buildings were the slaughterhouse and butchery for this end of the village.    Old Oscar has shown me inside - the hooks, pulleys, etc.   It made me feel ill and very glad that I am vegetarian.    

They are now deemed to be very unsafe and are being carefully demolished.    The village road runs directly behind them, so we don't want any accidents with falling masonry, tiles, and the like.

I spend half an hour down there every day, as I keep old Benedict the horse company, check on his water, feed him, and so on.   His paddocks are just across the yard, his view of the road will soon improve.    

He doesn't have any field companions and old Oscar is finding it more difficult to get around these days, so Benedict gets very lonely, to say the least.

So, while I have been spending so much time down there I got thinking about the bricks, tiles, etc from this demolition job.   As you can see, they are being carefully stacked on pallets, ready to go to the reclamation yard.      This set me thinking.



Way back in the 1970's  there was a rather spooky BBC play called 'The Stone Tape'.      (A note for my family, there is a copy on one of the dressing-room shelves.)    The programme put forth the idea that ghosts could be energy which has been absorbed, at times of high tension, into inanimate materials, like stone.    It is possible that this energy, or recording, can be subsequently released, hence the visuals, the sounds, etc. of ghosts.

So, I fell to wondering about these bricks.. any energy they have stored would be truly nightmarish.  

Max has plans to build a large porch onto Parsonage Cottage, these bricks are the same colour, shape and size as those used to  build our home, all those years back when it was the Stables and Cow Shed for the big Farmhouse.

Our home is a place of peace, I never feel the need to put a light on during my midnight ramblings, well, not until I go into the Boot Room, for there always seems to be a pesky slug somewhere or other in there, no matter what we do.     I think that much of that wonderfully peaceful atmosphere comes from the century and a half when the animals were housed in here.

No way am I going to risk adding old slaughterhouse bricks into that happy home, after all, if The Stone Tape theory is even partly correct, surely the same thing could happen with bricks?

We'll use new bricks for the porch, just in case.   ;-)

Sexy Shoes and Kinky Boots...

...do nothing for me.

Wellington boots, walking boots, ice boots, knee high boots with very low heels however, now you're talking!    I get excited about those, from a purely practical point of view, like staying upright instead of falling base over apex which I'm rather good at.

I have two pairs of Wellington boots, and I wear one or other pair every day.   We live deep in the countryside, often in a sea of mud.    

I've tried cheap Wellies, they didn't last long and I found myself slipping and sliding in the clay mud around here.    So I buy more expensive ones with special soles for noodles, like me, who find it difficult to keep their balance.  I buy them in online sales.   The ones in the photograph are brown, which suits me fine, but they were a third of the price of the same boot in green or black.   It probably also helps that I have large feet, not that this is any help when I am trying to stay upright!

Ice and snow are a nightmare for me, even though I welcome the first falls of snow as eagerly and my grandchildren.     So I have a couple of pairs of snow/ice boots, they help me to remain upright, but on really bad ice I have to resort to some special spikey grips which fit over my boots.  They look like bondage for boots, but they do grip onto ice and compacted snow surfaces, they make me feel a little safer.

These boots are my favourite snow boots.  Again, they were bought in an online sale several years ago.   We were travelling to Iceland for a three week holiday and they shrieked 'buy me', even though they are a size larger than I normally take.    It worked out well, the fluffy lining still fills the extra space, they are a perfect fit and much loved...

...rather like this old boy.    I fear his days are numbered, his real owner has still not collected him from old Oscar, but I guess it won't be long.     It is something over which I have no control, all I can do is visit him daily, feed him his treats, tell him how much he is loved,  and hope...    

I am Leading a Double Life and it comes so easily!

It is slightly worrying that this new persona of mine,

Felicity Parsons,

seems to be a cloak which I feel so comfortable in wearing.

Does this mean that I am a natural-born liar, a cheat, a fraudster?

Crumbs!  I hope not.

Dishonest, false and shallow people are a pet hate of mine.

I prefer people to be real, warts and all,

I cannot abide the superficial and the glib

the polished and 'perfect'.

So, why am I hiding behind Felicity

and pretending to live in a tiny village called Little Bunting

when my real name is ******

and I live in the tiny village of ******?

It all comes down to the reasons why I write a blog,

I do it because I enjoy it, a form of online diary

notes of things which are happening in my life.

I have family living far away,

who like to see the photographs

and catch up on events back home.

Ditto, friends.

All my previous blogs (and I have had a few) have been on the same lines

foolishly, I used my real name, etc.

Several years down the line,

blog scrapers came along and copied hundreds of my posts

and 

re-posted them on their own fake blogs,

for whatever purpose.

I went through a protracted process of getting many of them taken down,

but Blogger seems less than enthusiastic about helping.

Eventually,

I abandoned my old blogs, put all my posts back into draft form,

so that I can still look back on them

after all,

 they still read back to me like a diary

of my life.

I was furious with the blog scrapers, vowed never to blog again...

Time passed and I found I missed the process.

I came up with the idea of using a different name,

for everyone and everything

and that is how it goes,

it makes me feel a little protected (an illusion, of course!).

So, what happens as I get even older

and, perhaps, begin to get confused...?

Will there come a point in my life where I call my husband 'Max' instead of ******?

The grandchildren by their new names of Hector and Merry?

Even the cats, the dog, the horse have fake names...

though I did draw the line at re-naming the six hens!

People could think I am going slightly mad, whereas I would simply be using their 

bloggy monikers - is that the same thing?

Oh dear, the complications!

Right, I'm heading off to feed ******   I mean Benedict...

fliss&max/******/******

xxx

Love at First Sight

A post for Poppy.

xxx

I took this photograph on the day Merry met Benedict for the first time.   She had never seen a horse before, but she was immediately fascinated.    Benedict was obviously delighted to meet her, becoming very quiet and gently snuffling on her little bare toes.  

Her first horse was second hand, passed down the line from her older brother, Hector.

A rocking horse, greatly enjoyed, but no competition with the real thing.

Here is Benedict in his winter coat, my favourite look - and below is his mid-season look.

They have some very serious conversations, once the treats have been enjoyed.

"Carrots, Benedict!"

Her confidence has grown and so has the bond between them.

The old horse leads a very quiet life these days.   His life would be very dull if he hadn't got this horse-mad little girl showering him with love and affection.

So there you go, Poppy.
A few snapshots of Merry.
fliss&max

Colour on a Damp & Gloomy Day

As a child I adored all animals, especially horses and so it continues to this day.    I have never had a horse of my own, but living almost next door to someone else's is almost as good!

So, after showering old Benedict with love and treats, I dragged myself away and back to the house, for I doubted that the housework fairy would have been at work in my absence.

The light was dismal and light rain was falling, yet my short walk home was filled with spectacular colours.    Yellow and gold seem to be featuring strongly this year, although when I turned to the right I saw these wonderfully red crab apples.

Most have dropped off onto the verge, so I gathered a pocketful and will try to get some crab apple trees established in our little woodland.

I couldn't resist popping them into this lovely berry bowl for a quick photo-shoot.   They look like luscious, plump cherries.

One corner of the garden is wearing a carpet of golden leaves which seemed to glow, the rain will soon dull the colour, but right now it is breathtaking.

The colour is a bit more subtle here, but still rather lovely, I love those twisty, gnarly branches, the creeping ivy.

Then we have these - autumnal colour, autumnal bounty.    Wonderful splashes of colour which really come to the fore when the light around them is dull.
fliss&max

Rainy Day Baking and Little Gems

Today began with heavy rain so the dog and I got drenched - but I am very happy about that.

Ever since Dobson came to live with us he has shown a marked reluctance to venture anywhere in the rain, even if he is desperate, he would rather cross his legs and wait until it stops raining.   I have never forced him out in the rain, but I have tried to encourage him, with little success.  

So I was delighted that today he agreed to come out into the pouring rain, for a morning walk.    He actually enjoyed it!   He didn't melt away and he found that smells are just as good in the rain.   Success after two and a half years of gentle persuasion.

Just as well I'm patient.

This handsome boy, Benedict, on the other hand, can usually be found standing out in the rain.   For some strange reason he seems to really enjoy it.     He has a shelter, he just won't use it.


The rain dried up but the day continued to be damp, gloomy, windy.    Our internet connection goes crazy on days like this (the overhead cables run through woodland trees and they need trimming) so the connection drifted in and out.   I gave up trying to read, or respond to, email, etc.

Instead, I made a cup of tea and browsed my recipe books instead.    

Christmas cake is what I wanted to get started, they always improve with keeping and steeping in alcohol.     I also like to soak the fruit in alcohol for a couple of days before mixing and baking and each year I try a different recipe.

This bowl is HUGE, there is something like 5lbs of fruit soaking in it!

I finally plumped for a recipe from my mother's old handwritten recipe book.  

Oddly enough, I have never noticed this one before, but part of the appeal was that the quantities are enough for a 9 inch cake, plus a 6 inch cake.   Perfect!    I always make two cakes, one for Max and the family and another for my younger brother, The Writer.

The recipe book was originally a diary and the first few pages still contain entries from January 1st 1962.    My mothers handwriting quickly transported me back to my 8 year old self, when we were living in Hong Kong.

The entry for 4th January 1962 reads "Jimmy Wong came round this afternoon.   Harry bought me a beautiful firestone and gold ring and I bought the matching earrings."

Here they are.  

I inherited them when my mother died, twenty years ago.    I am not a great one for jewellery, but I do enjoy wearing the pieces which my mother left me and these 'firestones' are truly beautiful.

In morning light they appear a pale blue, then as the day progresses they gradually darken and change to violet and on until they become a rich red wine colour.  Magical!

Jimmy Wong was a Chinese man who used to call around once a month.   He would bring a huge assortment of ready made jewellery and loose stones.    His smooth sales patter often tempted my mother into purchasing something!     One could ask for any stone, any setting or arrangement and a week or two later it would be delivered for inspection.  

So my mother was very much to the forefront of my mind as I set about weighing the fruit, halving cherries, etc.  

She was a wonderful cook, nothing fazed her and everything turned out tasting delicious.    Her big flaw was that she used almost every pot and pan in the house while she cooked.  The kitchen would always look like a bomb had hit it.

I work very tidily and I am a rubbish cook.   Any successes which I have are purely accidental and therefore unrepeatable!   I have a nice, tidy kitchen though.   ;-)

fliss&max

Cowslip Cottage

This morning I felt well enough to take a walk along the lane to visit this old chap, Benedict, for the first time in almost three weeks.       He was initially a little grumpy, I think you can see that from the photograph, but once he realised that my pockets were stuffed with carrots and apple he decided to forgive me, especially when I also managed to find a couple of old polo mints.   He was delighted to have some company and spent ages gently nibbling on my fingers and telling me that perhaps I wasn't so bad after all.   I told him how much I love him.

His owner, Oscar (aged very late 90's) was pottering around his garden.   He hasn't been well and these days he has to support himself on two sticks, when outside, and uses a wheeled walker indoors.   Despite all his health problems, Oscar keeps soldiering on.  

Calling in to see Benedict allows me to keep an eye on Oscar without appearing to do so, I hope.

As the day was fine, we went down to your cottage, Max had some more measurements to take and I wanted to try to get the lawns mowed before the weather turns.  

I mowed this lawn, then Max strimmed the edges, while I mowed the other lawn.   It looks nice and neat again.   We also weeded the front garden and swept all the hay out of the parking space, those hay wagons shed a huge amount, I think we filled two and a half sacks, it will all go into the compost heap.

This is the view from the back garden gate, the cattle are still out, just not in shot.

Poppy, this one is for you!   One brave poppy flower still blooming in the rockery area today.   I had to photograph it for you, what a shame I didn't have the macro lens with me.

On the way home we called in at the fruit farm and picked a couple of large bags of pears, they make superb juice, but taste just as nice as a fruit.

fliss&max
xxx

My Kitchen in Autumn

Come on in and see my kitchen.   This is the cooker, it also provides endless hot water and heats the radiators.   It is a real workhorse and I love it - although it does have some quirks as it is fired by solid fuel.    This means that on days when there is little or no wind, it often struggles to draw properly. Max is pretty adept at getting it going though.

The weather today is much cooler than of late and I have felt cold, so Max lit the Rayburn.  Now the  kitchen feels warm and welcoming.  

A change of weather means a change in my cooking habits.   We both really like simple meals - home made soups and home made bread being a favourite.     So, those two enormous saucepans have been brought out of the pantry, one has a ham shank simmering within, the other has onions, celery and some potato softening.

Max adores pea and ham soup - I love pea soup, but I don't eat meat.   So I'm making both.    I have an enormous bowl of dried peas soaking,  I could use garden peas, but we prefer the old fashioned dried sort  

Traditionally, these dried peas had to be soaked overnight, nowadays you can buy quick-soak ones which are ready for cooking in only two hours, which makes for slightly more spontaneous soup-making!   Even so, the soup won't be used until tomorrow evening, by which time the flavours will have developed and melded.

I'm also roasting some bulbs of garlic ready for making roasted garlic bread.   I use an Andrew Morton recipe which recommends leaving the dough to prove in the refrigerator for 12 hours.  Then I'll continue with the bread making tomorrow.   Last time I made it, it got the thumbs up from everyone who tried it.

I'll also be making a couple of apple and blackberry pies with a soft crust.   This is a bit of an experiment, it's a recipe I haven't tried before.   I hope it turns out okay, because the second pie is for our dear old neighbour, Oscar.   He is 98 years old and still going strong(ish).

Max had to take him to the dentist today, so I took the opportunity to pop round to see Benedict, the old horse who lives in Oscar's paddock.    I haven't seen him for a few days, which means that no one has been there to give him his treats.

He was decidedly grumpy with me at first.   However, the juicy apple, followed by three peppermints soon had him eating out of my hand.

Oscar had urged me to pick the blackberries along one side of the paddock - there wasn't much on offer though, so I took a detour on the way home to supplement supplies of them.

Tomorrow I'll make two pies,  one for Oscar and we'll have the other one.  Benedict will no doubt be happy to make do with apple and mints.

Now, had the weather been milder, I would not have felt like doing any of this cooking and baking.  I love seasonality and I like to ring the changes.

This enthusiasm won't last long!
fliss&max