The Dark End of the Year

The cats let me have a lie-in today, which simply mean that they didn't wake me until 5am. 

I stumbled through into the kitchen - fed the cats, let the dog out, put the kettle on, emptied the dishwasher, let the dog in, let the cats out, fed the dog, made a mug of strong coffee...and so on.

I was on my way back to make a second cup of coffee when I became aware of just how messy and gloomy the kitchen was looking.   Admittedly, it was pitch black outside, the curtains were all closed, and I didn't have many lights on, but even so. 

I immediately felt the need to clear the decks, put away the Christmas cloths, the decorations.   I wanted to transform my kitchen back into the light and airy room that I love so much.   Not quite spring cleaning fever, but almost as bad!

These are old photographs, you can tell that because the Rayburn was still in place, plus the photograph was taken in the daylight, which helps! 

I set to work, it wasn't possible to remove all signs of the season, but quite a lot of things have been returned to the loft.   I have my three youngest grandchildren coming to stay tomorrow, three little boys who love to 'investigate' things. 

Today has been spent roasting flesh (pig and chicken) baking bread and cakes, cleaning the house and making it safe, ready for the little ones.

Their visit will nicely fill the gap as we transition between the end of the old year and into the start of a fresh new one.         A big family gathering and another big meal tomorrow, plus a few smaller meals, then I can put my pinny away until next year.     

Thank goodness.

I took Toby out for a reasonable walk this morning, my bruised tailbone still won't permit me to do my usual route march!  We walked out past the watermill, up through Butterbump Splash, then cut across a field, jumped (well, Toby jumped, I splashed through, a small stream, clambered over a few stiles, walked by the side of the chalk stream and arrived at this bridge.     

Parsonage Cottage is located about 150 yards to the left of this bridge, in order to reach it we have to walk through up through the field, all the way up to the houses which  you can see in the distance, out through the field gates, then turn to our left and walk down the lane towards home.

The first house we pass is where my dear friend Oscar used to live, with his old horse, Benedict.  They have both gone now, but they are not forgotten, for they are firmly lodged in my heart and remembered often in our conversations.

Long ago, there was a slaughterhouse to the side, and part of the house became a butcher's shop, later it became a doctor's surgery, before reverting to a smallholding, when Oscar took it over.

The old ramshackle barn still remains, it is where this dear and handsome old boy dozed away his days.    When I took this photograph, I was unaware that the barn owl was in the barn, too.   Just as the camera shutter clicked, he flew out of the door, too fast for me to react to get a photograph, but slowly enough for it to be firmly stamped into my memory.   They were friends.  The owl would perch just a couple of feet above Benedict's head.

On down the lane, past another cottage, then the length of Owl Wood, and home. 

Darkness has crept in around the cottage again.    It is time to prepare supper - is there no end to this cooking nonsense?    Luckily, I made a pot of vegetable soup earlier!   

I will need to take a torch out with me when I walk Toby around Owl Wood, then I can get into a warm pair of pyjamas, make some hot chocolate, and continue reading one of my library books.

I hope you are set to have a pleasant evening, too.
x

Chinese New Year in Lincolnshire

Today we celebrated Chinese New Year with our Chinese daughter-in-law and the rest of our family.

Chinese hot pot! 

A delicious way to enjoy a long and leisurely meal. 

Select what you want, put it into the pot of boiling and spicy stock, then chat while you wait for it to cook.

The round brown things are not potatoes, they are gluten balls, doughy puff balls of delight.

Loads of vegetables, salmon, prawns, non-meat meatballs, thinly sliced beef, greens, beans and mushrooms.     Lots of crunchy salad to nibble while you wait.

It is difficult to keep track of just how much you eat. 

Conversation and laughter flows as chopstick skills are put to the test when some bits sink without trace and have to be fished out.       Luckily we had a few wire net scoops on hand, just in case.

Much, much later  we cleared the table and put out fruit and sweet treats, trying to stick to auspicious red, gold and round shapes as much as possible.

Somehow we all managed to squeeze in an extra treat or two. 

I made sure that everyone took home all the tempting goodies, so that the only round thing left in this house is some fruit, and me.   

Double exercise for me tomorrow.

Happy Chinese New Year!

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

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)

An English Country Wedding

England was looking its prettiest,

and so was the bride.

She rode from the farmyard, 

through the garden

and along the grassy lane to the tiny church, mounted sidesaddle, on one of those gentle giants of the horse world,

a Clydesdale.

The theme was that of a traditional Victorian country wedding.

Of course the hours which went into the grooming of the bride

probably

matched the long hours spent on preparing the horses!

The bride 

(I would try to describe our relationship,

but I am totally incapable of following all the twists and turns of it,

so let's call her my niece)

and her horse were led to church

by her very proud father.

Her lovely long locks were flowing freely

and her dress cascaded and draped

beautifully.

He must have felt so proud of her.

The tiny church had room for only 60 people,

so you can imagine how small it is.

It's an interesting church,

I'll show some photographs

and share the story of it another time.

Once the ceremony was over and the marriage register was witnessed and signed,

it was time for some family photographs,

here they are in the vestry.

Then there was a surprise for the groom

 for there were two horses waiting!

He hadn't ridden for years...

I think he was quite surprised at just how broad the back of a Clydesdale horse can be!

There was time for a quick sip of champagne before they rode off together

to the marquee reception,

which was held in the grounds of their cottage.

(photograph taken by a friend - thank you.)

It was all very special

and so appropriate for this lovely couple

who work with horses.

Magical and memorable.

xxx