Waking Ned

This is the old railway line, decommissioned in the 1960's, thanks to Dr Beeching.  A local farmer owns this stretch of it, dog walkers use it.

I used to walk along there four times a day.   That was when we first came to live in Parsonage Cottage.  We had three dogs.   Pip, Toby, and Ned.

This is Ned, he was a very large dog.   He belonged to my daughter and son-in-law, but as they were at work all day it fell to me to look after him.   Somehow that looking after him also meant that we fed him and he slept here, too...    He was a rescue dog, of course.    

He was deaf and hadn't had suitable training.   His deafness made life quite difficult for him.   Eventually I managed to teach him some hand signals, simple commands, which made life a little easier, although he still got very easily startled by things 'suddenly happening'.    He was a heavy sleeper and had to be gently woken.  That pesky deafness.

On one occasion we had to put all the dogs in kennels as we had to attend a family funeral at the other end of the country.   I had explained to them about his deafness and special needs, was assured that they would handle him carefully.  When we picked him up the young girl who fetched him delighted in telling me how she'd spooked him when she took him his breakfast and again later in the day.     He was never put into kennels again.  

He'd just follow his 'pack' - and given that they were led by Pip, a very intelligent and manipulative terrier, you can probably imagine that it was bedlam at times.

Pip was a little older and extremely bright.  She got me turned out of a dog class once, so that the trainer could show how well trained and intelligent she was.  She was the bright star of the class, as long as I wasn't with her.

I learned my lesson.   

We didn't return to class.

The third member of the pack was my little Toby.  Sweetest dog ever, though he thought he was a love machine when we first got him from the rescue kennels.   He was a kind-natured dog, loved travelling, wanted only to be with his humans.

Walks were - interesting.   

I found out the hard way, that I simply wasn't strong enough to hold all three on their leads when Pip got some mischief in her head.   

On one memorable occasion I had let them run free at a wild and deserted bit of seaside and then clipped their leads on to walk down the side of a quiet canal on the way back to the car.   I always chose my time carefully, normally we didn't meet anyone, but I was constantly scanning the horizon.

So was Pip.

She saw someone in the distance with a Yorkshire Terrier and set up such a hullabaloo, setting the two boys off.  She began to run towards her bit of mischief, so did the others.   I managed to hang on to the leads but lost my footing and was dragged along behind them.

Try picking yourself up with dignity after that!

The only consolation was that I hadn't let go of the leads.  I still had three dogs and we were quite a lot nearer the car.   I swear Pip laughed all the way home.

Then we moved to Parsonage Cottage.  Walks changed.  No need to bundle all the dogs into the car to find somewhere quiet to walk.  We are surrounded by quiet walks.

Just one problem.  To get to the nearest one, the old railway line, I have to walk about a hundred yards down a quiet lane.   Walking the three dogs together was simply not an option, even down a quiet lane.   

So I had to split them into two.  First I would walk Pip with Toby, that pairing worked because Toby was much slighter and more obedient.  

Then I would walk big Ned with Toby.  That pairing worked because Ned would follow Toby's lead and Toby wasn't being led astray by Pip.

Twice a day we'd perform this ritual, the rest of the time the dogs made do with our gardens and woodland.    Toby and I got very fit with all our walks.

That bit of old railway line became very familiar to me.

This week, I walked it with my daughter-in-law, Poppy.   It was fascinating to see it through her fresh eyes and to hear her enthusing over all the things which I used to find so exciting.

The acorns, berries, fungi, animal burrows, the birds.

It was truly wonderful.  She transformed something which has become so ordinary back into something magical and exciting.  I am very grateful to her.

(Dobson enjoyed her company, too.  Dobson is a single dog.  I know my limitations.)

We found a couple of ancient puffball mushrooms, it is difficult to tell from this snap but it is the size of a football.

We collected some acorns, simply because they are so pretty and plenty of blackberries.

Sloe gin to the left, Bramble/Blackberry Vodka to the right.  

This week has also seen our granddaughter start school, suddenly he brother seems so much older.    Now we have two for tea and fun.

Dobson loves his job as chief floor cleaner.   

How Does Your Garden Grow?

Poppy, Miles, your garden is definitely growing!   I need to get out there and mow both the lawns, tie back the daffodil leaves and do some weeding.   I have been so busy decorating the cottage that the gardens have been neglected for a week or two.

Still, all the hard work is paying off, it looks less like a building project and much more like a home-in-the-making.

This is down by your back gate, it is looking really beautiful.  A garden which was created with love and care by the old couple.    The first roses are blooming, they are yellow, the scent is a delight.


After a week of  dull skies, rain, and unseasonably cold weather the sun has finally come out and we have gone from freezing to very warm.   Hurrah!  What a difference the sunshine makes to everyone.

This little one has been helping Grandpa in the gardens.  When it cools down a little, I shall be out there mowing our own lawns, they are well overdue for cutting.

As I am writing this, Max and Richard are down at your cottage, they are dropping off a trailer load of furniture.   They will be back soon for another load... bed, dining table, sofa, leather armchairs, side tables, the large BBQ and some white goods.

It is a start!

Five weeks!

We are counting it as four weeks, with one week left blank to sort out snags

and finish off any loose ends.

 Love,

Mum

xxx

This, that and the other.

As we parked at the top of the hill,  next to the castle and the cathedral, the clock began striking the hour, loud and sonorous.

It was cold, but bright and dry, perfect for walking down Steep Hill and into the High Street.   A short walk along the canal and then cut along the side of the High Bridge.
It's the oldest bridge in UK which still has buildings on it.  It was built around 1160 AD.
This photograph shows the back of the building.

We were heading out for a quick look at the marina.

It was good to see that narrowboats are also moored here, so perhaps The Writer may be able to bring his narrowboat across the country and moor here one day soon.    This would be a lovely place to meet up and perhaps go for a jolly jaunt along the canal.

Max disappeared to a bookshop/coffee shop, a good place to rest quietly while I got down to a little light shopping.

I was in M&S with an armful of items which I wanted to try on, when a fellow customer asked me whether I had a voucher... she gave me a 20% discount voucher which can be used multiple times over the next few days, it can even be handed on to friends and family for them to take advantage of the discount!

I was very chuffed indeed.    I still stuck to buying the two jumpers which were on my list, great to find that I got them discounted by so much though.   So kind of her.

We had lunch out - it was pleasant, but that is about the best I can say.  The food was very average, the coffee was tepid and the service was poor.    Oh, well, can't win them all.  We took a steady walk back up Steep Hill (which is VERY steep, by the way, a one in seven gradient for one section) and for once we didn't take any breaks for a breather.

Dobson and the cats had been well looked-after by Hector and Merry, they'd played so much 'fetch' with him that eventually he picked up the ball and asked to be let back into the house!

*     *     *

This afternoon we hosted a little tea party.   Max and I have been married 40 years this month.   He's not in the best of health at the moment, so a holiday is not really on the cards.  Still, we wanted to celebrate so we invited Alice, Richard, their children, plus The Writer to afternoon tea.

When we said the children could eat the food in any order they liked, their faces were wreathed in big grins.

There were smoked salmon sandwiches, cucumber sandwiches and ham sandwiches for the carnivores, along with a bacon and egg flan, like Grandma used to make, and lots of very naughty cakes.   The custard slice was mine - I just love that combination of custard and pastry.

Tomorrow is definitely a day for light food and lots of exercise!

These two little tykes ate heartily, so did the rest of us.     It was fascinating to see how,  given the freedom to pick and choose, the children ate lots of the raw vegetables as well as sandwiches, cakes, etc.  

Then we all got stuck into a game of charades.   Little Merry had a very sketchy understanding of what was required but that made it all the more fun.

She had us in stitches over her interpretation of Jungle Book.    She pretended to be Balloo the Bear and scratched her back on the table leg...         She followed it up with a repeat performance,  but got very cross when we suggested that she was miming Balloo, she insisted that this time it was Bagheera scratching his back ...of course!

We all had a wonderful time.

Perhaps we can have something of a re-run when you two come back home?
xxx

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

Snuggle Quilt

This is the quilt which I have been making for Merry.

Many of the fabrics are remnants from dresses which I have made for her.

I hope the quilt will keep her warm and snuggly and also

remind her of some of her pretty frocks.

She is also mad about purple, pink, and rabbits

so I made sure that I included plenty of those colours and appliqued some rabbits

while I was at it.

Much of it was hand sewn simply because that was how I wanted to do it.

(I think I have got that particular thing out of my system for a while!)

I enjoyed making the quilt but now I'm looking forward to being able to make progress

with my own.

I'm making it from vintage fabrics in very bright, jewel-like colours

to go on our own bed.

I suddenly realised that not one of all the quilts I have ever made

has been for Max and me.

Time to rectify that!

"Old apple tree, we wassail thee"

I made two slices of white toast, soaked it in cider then poured the remainder of the cider into my oldest jug.   There was no special significance in choosing my oldest jug, I just felt drawn to use it.    We donned hats, coats and Wellington boots and made our way out to the garden.

Unfortunately we lost three apple trees to disease last year leaving us with two Bramley apple trees.   Tradition dictates that one should wassail the oldest tree   In the end we decided to wassail both of them, just to be on the safe side.

Once the slice of cider-soaked toast had been  placed in the branches, Max steadily poured the cider around the tree as we marched around it singing:

"Old apple tree, we wassail thee
And hoping thou wilt bear
For the Lord doth know where we shall be
Till apples come another year.
For to bear well, and to bear well
So merry let us be.
Let every man take off his hat
And shout to the old apple tree
Old apple tree, we wassail thee
And hoping thou wilt bear
Hatfuls, capfuls, three bushel bagfuls
And a little heap under the stairs
Hip! Hip! Horray!"


It was enormous fun, especially as we were joined by Merry, she thought it was a great way to delay her bath and bedtime.

Second time around we sang even more lustily.   We were really getting into our stride by then!  

It was great fun and it felt right.  

Respect for the apple tree which provides us with the fruit for so many apple pies and crumbles.

Hello to my Shanghai Two xxx

Dear Poppy and Miles,

As promised, some photographs of our Christmas breakfast.    Two whirling dervish children came across the garden at 8.30am, their parents were just moments behind them.   They, and The Writer, joined us for gift opening and breakfast.   It was chaotic and fun.  Everyone got fed and everyone seemed happy with their gifts.

We had a simple, kitchen breakfast, but everyone got something they enjoyed.  Eggs in pots for Alice, while Hector and Richard opted for bacon rolls, one on granary, the other white, sauteed mushrooms and garlic on bruschetta for The Writer, while Merry opted for cereal.    Everything was washed down with orange juice, Prosecco, Bucks Fizz, or blackcurrant juice according to taste.  

Hector adored the Christmas crackers and took delight in reading out all the corny jokes, something he couldn't quite achieve last year.

The Writer took lots of photographs, so did Max.   I have hopes that most of The Writer's do not feature me because unfortunately, Max's do...sorry.

For a while everything was a blur of wrapping paper being whipped off and exclamations of delight or puzzlement.

Hector was thrilled with his Monopoly, Star Wars Edition.

While young Merry was thrilled with her dolls house furniture.  She played for a long time, ignoring everything else, lost in her own little world.

It has been a fun-filled morning.    Now everyone has gone home, the dishes have been done.  Order restored.  The rest of the day is our own.

Max and I plan to chill out, read our new books, walk the dog, have a little more Prosecco and relax.
We miss you both so much - but we'll do something fun in the summer!
Love to you,
Mum and Dad
xxx

A 'Bad-Guy' Animal in the Owl Wood

Poor Miss Pinkerton was simply ambling through Owl Wood when something attacked her.

She screamed like a banshee as she tried to escape.

This photograph shows Dobson just before all hell broke loose, he was standing watch over his flock of hens, but had obviously heard the beginnings of the ruckus.

Normally a cowardly-custard, brave Dobson raced to her rescue and soon Miss Pinkerton and Coco (our cats) came racing back to me, through the wood.   They looked twice their normal size, with toilet-brush tails and their fur standing on end.

Dobson was silent.   Usually a rescue event is a good excuse for a bit of a bark, tell the intruder off and get some brownie points for seeing them off.   This time he worked silently and the intruder left.

When my hero re-appeared he went straight over to Miss Pinkerton and sniffed her all over,  checking to see how she was.

Blood dripped from a puncture to her ear and some tufts of hair had come out, but she was otherwise unmarked, although still very frightened.

When the grandchildren came home from school and nursery, they wanted to know what was wrong with Miss Pinkerton's ear, so we told them.

Merry listened, then said there must have been a "bad-guy animal in the wood".   She then went on to say that she would 'get a stick and kill that bad-guy animal'.   (She is only 3 and loves all our pets.   Grandpa and I had to hide our smiles as her schoolteacher mother helped her with the 'correct' response...   I prefer the simple, honest,  emotional response from Merry.   Naughty Gran.)

Miss Pinkerton seems to be content to hang around the gardens although I'm sure that will change in a day or two and she'll resume her usual patrols.  

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

Sleepy Sundays

Coco is sleeping like a sweet little innocent.   She spent last night outside (her choice) hunting.   When I opened the door this morning I was greeted with a stained and bloody doorstep and her haul for the night...a teenage rat, a large mouse, and some tiny headless creature.    She strolled in, ate a hearty breakfast and flaked out on the sofa.

I took Dobson through the small gate to the barley field - his first experience of it this year.   He trotted out there very happily, romped through the field, happily sniffing and chasing his ball.

He was happy, until we reached a certain corner of the field - it backs onto the old school playing field - and then he began to growl, tail between his legs, refusing to move forward.    I tried to cajole him into moving, but he wouldn't.   Eventually I clipped his lead on and ran him away from there, making a game of it and he settled down.

Our walk continued, peacefully, happily.   His nose got a workout and so did his legs.  All seemed well with the world.  We turned the final corner and home came into sight, that was it then.   He scooted, ran for all he was worth, not looking back, until he reached the safety of the small garden gate.

To his credit, he did stay and watch to make sure that I got home safely...

Now he is safely snoozing in his bed, under my work table.   Poor lad, I'll never know what happened to him in the two years before we got him, all I can try to do is build up his confidence, bit by bit.

Poppy, I thought you may like to see Max and Merry, they are sitting right next to me...

Merry is watching 'The Gruffalo's Child', Max is snoozing.
fliss&max
xxx