What the hail is going on and why are your shorts wet?

I have to explain right at the beginning of today’s entry, that the last of the above two questions will not be answered on this blog, but I thought that it added a little spice to the heading, without blatantly shouting, “ Roll up, roll up, hear all about it.  Come on in and be amazed, shocked or even beguiled by the saga of the wet shorts incident in Tesco”.  And I bet there are a few of you who thought the wet shorts were something to do with the hail.  You see, that is why it would make such good reading. They are completely unconnected,  the story behind the shorts is so much more interesting,  but no.....I am not going to stoop to the level of Daily Star reporting, or – perhaps I should write – what I understand to be the level of Daily Star reporting, as I have never actually read the waste of paper myself.

After five weeks of having her to stay, Jon and I took my mum back to Rutland on Thursday, returning here to Devon last night (Sunday).  It was horrid having to take her home and leave her yesterday, and we miss her, but she needed to get back into some kind of routine at her own pace, and also not have to listen to the peculiar music that has a habit of seeping under the door to the office on occasion, as well as me talking to myself about nonsense most of the time.   Jon had planned to be able to update blogs etc., from his laptop using a dongle but unfortunately, the signal in the most expensive county in England was worse than it is back here in Woolsery.  After hours and hours of slow, almost impossible, connections, Sunday’s updates were given up as a lost cause and it was decided to use the free WiFi facilities at several motorway services on the journey home instead. This meant that a couple of jaunts we had hoped to make whilst in Rutland, and a visit to the Eleanor Cross at Geddington on the way home were thwarted and postponed for a later date, as we needed to get to the first services as soon as we could. Corley Services on the M6 was, therefore, the first port of call on our way home.

So three hours later, and many blogs under his belt - and after I had swallowed the contents of two grande cups of black Americano coffee  (which was probably not a prudent idea as I developed a severe episode of hyper-twitchiness and had to eat an egg and mayo sandwich to calm myself down) - we prepared to set off on the next leg of our journey.  That was until the heavens opened up, and there fell to earth a torrent of pea-sized hailstones that were really the last thing you would expect to appear during an end of July  day. And lightning. And thunder.  Thor was obviously not just moving around his furniture, but must have been doing a spot of heavy-duty DIY as well. Perhaps he had been defrosting his freezer and had swapped his hammer for a very large electric drill.   However, Thor is a mighty warrior god and I have no wish to be rude about his home improvements, but I did feel sorry for the  little girl who was running for cover with her mother as the downpour gathered momentum. The poor child was crying her eyes out as the icy beads stung her bare shoulders. 

Anyway, Jon and I hobbled to the car and waited the storm out before continuing down the M6 towards the junction for the M42.  We stopped again at Sedgemoor Services on the M5 so that Jon could finish his tasks on the computer, but this time I had a pot of tea.  From then on it was pretty much plain sailing, apart from being followed at one point by not one, but two, police cars – in fact there seemed to be one loitering by every roundabout/lay-by along one particular stretch of the road.  Conspiracy theories were rife amongst the both of us, but we eventually lost the cortege of ‘jam sandwiches’, as they were once ‘affectionately’ known.

It also meant that my entries for Daily News were hampered, so only one got posted yesterday, and for this oversight I apologise.   

So it is now Monday; there are Daily News stories posted, and some in hand, there is no food in the fridge, but the washing is on the line.  And more importantly, the shorts are no longer wet.

The bells are ringing for him and his girl

Five years ago today, Jon and I tied the proverbial knot.  

Happy Anniversary to my darling husband 

I note that the traditional anniversary gift for five years is wood, updated to silverware for modern day.  I think the traditional is much nicer.  However, I did read somewhere that a travel anniversary gift idea is a cruise or airline tickets.  Hmmm...sorry my dear, but a wooden spoon chasing tonight's dinner around the saucepan may have to suffice as the travel idea.  


But more to the point, the sun is out, the church bells are ringing and all is well with the world.

Wind and Wuthering

I had a surprise on Friday night. My Marigolds and I were busy washing up afterdinner when the back door opened. ‘Hmmm’,I thought. ‘Who is visiting on such a rain-infested night such as this?’ Looking up from my toil, I was greeted with the sight of Olivia entering unto the kitchen – in a style not unlike that possessed of a character from EmilyBrontё’s novel. Blown by the wind and morethan a little dampened by the precipitation that fell in a deluge outside, shestopped and said, ‘Surprise!’ I probably gave the impression of a slightly be fuddled goldfish as I stood with my mouth agape, Marigold encased hands raised in astonishment. ‘I couldn’t come for your birthday, so I have come this weekend instead,’ she explained.

An hour or so later, I was making tea (the Marigolds, by theway, were by now hanging on the crockery drainer drying. I add this fact as they featured so heavilyin my first paragraph, and whilst totally irrelevant to this one, I felt Ineeded to give them a quick mention). The kettle had just boiled and I was pouring the water into the mugs,when - again – the door swung open andin flew another vision – this one slightly more drenched and windswept. But again the figure rushed across thethreshold in true Brontё fashion (or perhaps this time more like ElizabethBennett in Pride and Prejudice when it is said of her, by Caroline Bingham: ‘Why she [Elizabeth] must be scampering aboutthe country ........Her hair so untidy, so blousy! ’ after walking in the rain from Longbourneto Netherfield. I must add here, thatalthough this was said of Elizabeth in a more than slightly sarcastic way, Imean it not as such).

Shouting some profanity against the weather (I shall not putin writing what the profanity exactly was, as - let’s face it - the words thatemanated from the lips of this visitor have to be excused under such unseasonalcircumstances) the soggy vision of Shosh tossed down some bags before rushingback out into the night. More than a fewminutes elapsed. ‘Hmmm,’ I thought (yep ‘Hmmm’ twice in one night). ‘Wasthat the shape-shifter at work again, only this time with a battery of props?’I asked Olivia, whose hurried reply was that she hoped not. After a short while, Shosh burst into thekitchen once more, and my early birthday surprise was complete. Both girls had made plans to visit thisweekend as they could not be here for my birthday on Tuesday.

However, as you can see, as much as Pru loves to have Shoshand Olivia to visit, she was a bit miffed at not being able to sprawl out onthe sofa as she usually does, hence the look on her face in these two pictures aftershe had squeezed herself between them both last night. Talk about having a mard.

Thanks girls, for the lovely surprise and brilliant day outyesterday. I love you both and I count myself blessed to have two such wonderful daughters.

All quiet on the south-western Front

It is Saturday, and all is quiet on the south-western front. John and Dawn from Haunted Skies are due soon but in the meantime:

It is one of Graham’s weekly days off, so he is ensconced in his room upstairs. Meanwhile, Prudence is in the sitting room, stretched on the sofa, asleep and snoring, whilst both Jon and Richard are asleep in the chairs, heads lolling back, with mouths open thereby causing any wayward fly, spider - or other microscopic creature that may stroll by in an unsuspecting manner - to get sucked in with a – thankfully - quiet intake of breath.

The cats by the way are also asleep, one curled up on Jon’s lap and the other on the back of Richard’s chair.

My oh my, how the CFZ lives it up at the weekend.

It has left me wondering whether now is the time to start practising my new hobby. I reckon a quick stroll around the ground floor and up the stairs kitted out in my ‘one-man band’ (or is that ‘one-person band’ these days?) gear may go down really well with the other residents of Myrtle Cottage. Bring on that big bass drum.......

On the other hand, I guess I could just join everyone else and quietly snooze.

Whilst I ponder the imponderables, I shall leave you with a picture I took the other night of Mog (at the back) Mrs Miggins (in the middle)and Micawber (in the front). Cane toads are magnificent.

Well that has torn it .... my musical plans have been thwarted. Spider, the orange cat, has just woken everyone up by threatening to cough up a fur ball. Well, not quite true....he woke up Jon, who then woke up everyone else by shouting loudly about the cat threatening to cough up a fur ball.

No worries. All gone back to la-la land again.

'appy Burfday to my Big Bruvver

 Birthday hugs and kisses,

Ant!

Have a jolly good day

It is amazing what you find when you click on 'images of ants' on your computer:

Back in school again, Max plays the ........

Young Max has come to visit for a couple of days during which time, as usual, anything can happen.  This, nine times out of ten, means that whilst I am pottering away proof-reading on the computer, or some such activity, I am subjected to the playing of an eclectic mix of weird and wonderful (or not so wonderful – to my ears at any rate) music from the sitting room.  And last night was no exception.  There is no accounting for taste and, like the oft-used saying ‘beauty lies in the eye of the beholder’, the choice of music was clearly ‘music to their ears’, but more a form of torture for mine.  Ah well, all is almost solved by donning the headphones, if only to blot out the background noise - they are  good, although not 100% successful - at that.  

So while Jon and Master Blake shouted at each other across the room, rather than just turning the volume down slightly to enable them to chat in normal tones, I smiled with gritted teeth at the yelled schoolboy discussions;  dialogue that would not have been out of place at the back of a classroom of twelve-year olds, with accompanying sniggers and guffaws.

In the early hours of this morning, the inevitable happened.  They were both struck down with a bad case of....the munchies. 

Jon persuaded Max that cheese would be a good idea.  So off Max toddled to the kitchen.  And then began a debate between him and me as to whether I would like some too.  I have to admit that I folded in the end.  After at least five minutes of me declining such provinder and Max not moving from the kitchen doorway until I changed my mind, I took the easy way out.  I said ‘yes’, with a fair amount of fear and trepidation in my voice as to what I would end up with.  After a fairly long period of time, and after quite a bit of clanking around in the kitchen, young Master Blake reappeared at the kitchen doorway to enquire as to whether I would like round or square.  

Being as quick-witted as I am, I realised immediately that he was actually enquiring as to whether I wished square or round crackers to accompany this forced-meal of cheese.  “Square, please,” came my reply.

I was not quite sure what reaction to display when a plate with two slices of Stilton, spread rather viciously and  haphazardly with butter before being placed unceremoniously onto one side of a medium sized plate, was presented to me.  No square cracker, not even a round one, was apparent.  When this was pointed out, we went through the ‘square’ or ‘round’ discussion again.   And off he toddled once more, to return with one square cracker adorned with two small slices of Brie.  Then he disappeared upstairs to ‘pump ship’ as my ex-father-in-law used to say (a naval term I am led to believe).  Some while passed and he didn’t return.  I was beginning to wonder whether he had either fallen asleep in the bathroom or had just taken himself off to bed. 

But no.  He eventually re-appeared, only to run off with the snack that Jon had prepared for himself in the meantime. 

It was at this point that I decided the best course of action for me to take was to let Prudence out for her bedtime sprinkle and retire for the night.

But did I eat the cheese and square cracker?  As ever, I like to have photographic evidence of such occasions - just in case of any future blackmail opportunities you understand - so, after taking one look at the pictures below, what would you have done?

I am not sure how this small stray lump of Stilton 

got separated from the rest - perhaps best not to ask.

As my mother would have said to the two recalcitrants in the sitting room ....."you should take more water with it next time."  Wise words indeed.

Pirates in an adventure with.......

cephalopods, in a storm - with ale.....well a squid to be more precise.  However, I think it looks more like an octopus but .. hey let's not quibble.  The video is fun.  A tale of terrors that lurk beneath the waves, a story told that is a cross between the aforementioned jolly, yet pretty ineffectual,  pirates of  Gideon Defoe fame, and the inimitable Jack Sparrow of the High Seas.





So get ready ye sea legs me picaroons, and raise your tankards to the salty seas. And pray to the four winds that Davy Jones' locker be closed up real tight.

Arrrr.....