Over the Garden Gate

I have a busy day ahead of me.   However, there is just enough time for a bit of a gossip, 'over the garden gate'.

I met the new neighbour, she is very nice indeed.  So are her animals.   This is just two of her four beautiful dogs.

As you know, I don't use real names on this blog, so I'll call their owner 'Arabella'.   Now let's hope I don't do this by mistake, next time I meet her!

Arabella is an excellent horsewoman, she used to compete at a very high level.   Her beloved horses are 'Lady' (for blogging purposes) and

this one is 'Sir'.

I was a little perplexed by small bundles of animal hair which I kept finding in Owl Wood.   I began to think that murder was being committed there,  on a nightly basis.

Eventually it dawned on me, birds are stealing the hair which comes out when Lady is groomed.   I imagine it makes for a very cosy nest lining!   Mystery solved, thank goodness.

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

Caring for Neighbours

An old man collapsed on his kitchen floor, falling heavily and banging his head on the corner of the kitchen table.   Luckily, he always wears an alarm-call around his neck and was able to press the button, although unable to crawl across the floor to the telephone to tell them what had occurred.

This set a procedure in motion and a 'First Responder' was quickly despatched to check up on him.   An ambulance was called and he was taken to hospital, not the local one, for they were concerned about his head wound, etc. and there are more facilities at the larger District hospital.

The woman who comes in a couple of times a week to do the housekeeping and cleaning ensured that the house was kept warm, locked, safe, while a lovely man from the village made sure that the old horse was watered, fed, and mucked out the stable.

What had been forgotten in all the hoo-ha was that a delivery of frozen meals was due.    Upon finding that he couldn't get any response and being unable to gain entry to the house, despite the fact that the car was parked in the yard the delivery man telephoned the police to alert them that there was potentially a problem.

The boys in blue, or more likely, PCSO's were quickly on the scene and tried to gain access.   They were spotted by the housekeeper who got there in time to stop them from causing too much damage to the woodwork.  She explained who she was, what had happened and opened the door.

Image borrowed from - Domesticallyinclined2.blogspot.com

The local handyman was called, minor repairs made.   The police wrote a note explaining the circumstances of the damage.

After a couple of days in hospital the old man was allowed home.   Of course he had no car and at very nearly 100 years of age is not fit to be driving anyway.  

Brrrrng-brrrrrrrrrrrrng!    'Hello, Max?    I'm in hospital, can you pick me up?'

Two hours later,  Max delivers the old man home.    He put on all the lights, helped the old man into a chair and then checked through the contents of the fridge and cupboards and began to draw curtains and blinds, made sure that the man's medication was to hand.

There was a soft click of the outside door and in came the housekeeper.   She'd spotted the lights blazing and realised that the old man must be back.    Max left him to her competent care.

This morning we called in to check on the old man.   He is so white, frail, shaken.   Not surpising, but it is such a shame.    He has soldiered on for so long and now I fear he is unravelling.    Just lately he has had several falls and wobbly episodes.

The community is doing its best for him, we are all very fond of him.   However,  our combined efforts are are like a roughly cobbled together patchwork quilt and he needs so much more.    

(borrowed from Family Based Care)