15!

 To celebrate his birthday we took my Big Black Dog to the beach today. 

 On this first non-rainy day in weeks we headed off to Hengistbury Head for some well-deserved VitaminD absorption. Except we couldn't find it. Hengistbury Head that is. Which is ridiculous because it really is quite large but the magnet hidden on the roundabout in middle of Christchurch sent us off in the wrong direction. So we parked up at the Priory and mooched around the quayside. There were lots of swans with the same idea. My Assistant was underimpressed. Nasty yukky big swimmy white chickens apparently.

Mooching through Christchurch brought us to Chilly Wizards, the ice cream shop. Not only did they have fabulous homemade ice creams in yummy flavours (I had whitechocolate/choc chip and honeycomb) but the nice lady offered ice cream in a cone to the birthday boy!

Once our bearings were straight we headed off to the beach proper. En route My Assistant was very chuffed to have found a present for the Big Black Dog. Because a HUGE wild mushroom is just what every aged hound needs.

Eventually we made it and I think he was pleased.

Happy Birthday Big Black Dog.

It is MY dirt and I'm Not sharing.

                        Because I am a terrier. And all 18 cubic tonnes of topsoil are mine.

And I am going to sit on top of this 20 foot long by 10 foot wide by five foot tall pile and never go in for my tea again and you can't make me.

                                          Fine. But you can't make me go in the house.

Only on my hilltop.

A third of the way from the top the trees bend in and meet, dappling the cobbled path that clings to the side of the hill. Walking with the dogs down to the car I smiled and politely said 'Good Morning' to the elderly woman coming toward me. My Assistant had just disgraced herself by chasing a cat nearly in through its front door and so was back on lead. The Big Black Dog was freely mooching.

This old lady always wears a green sleeveless cardigan over her patterned polyester dress, her stick-thin legs clad in coloured tights and in white trainers. Her body is slightly hunched but her chin is always up and she faces the climb with vigour and determination whatever the weather. Holding in place the thin Heidi plait across her head there is always a knotted scarf. And I have never seen her without a slash of bright red lipstick to glamorise the face hidden behind enormous brown glasses.

We stopped on the hill to chat while she stroked My Assistant's head.

"Now don't tell me, this is a Sealyham isn't it?" Before I could explain she kept going. "No, no. It is an Aberdeen Terrier isn't it?"

I agreed because since My Assistant joined us we have learnt this is the very old-fashioned name by which Scottish Terriers are known.

"Kipling had two of these you know. Ah yes, I remember them well. Friend of my parents' you see. Even all those years ago and I can still remember them. Now, what were they called...let me see... yes, there was Wog and oh what was the other one called... James. Wog and James. Wog was sweet natured but James was a bit, well you know, ... oh how would you describe it ... yes, that's it, cantankerous!

Personally I prefer cats. I've always had cats. Dogs live to serve and worship whereas cats are used to being worshipped. The ancient Egyptians you know, Bast, worshipped her. Right then. Must be off. Goodbye."

I have heard stories that she worked for S.O.E. as part of the French Resistance.

I am willing to believe.

Recent times in pictures

The White Rabbit was late for a seventh birthday party!

Gorgeous Baby Will.

Hanging out on top of The Hill.
My Assistant in the Winter sunshine.

Mother's Day Dinner made by destructoBoy.

The day draws nearer - but not yet.

My OMD was diagnosed with chronic kidney failure this morning.

As well as extreme regenerative anaemia and ulcerated stomach lining.

However the vet said she checked the findings twice because the failing dog the numbers were talking about was not the quite perky, wobbly-headed, fally-down dog she saw in her consulting room.

We are dealing with things via diet and drugs and will watch carefully what happens over the next few weeks.

So once again my lovely OMD has told The Grim Reaper to fuck off and not bother coming back until he can find a really good frisbee.

In the past month...

I have ...

* finalised plans for new kitchen/living room building (Yippee! Woohoo! And Yay!) .

* nearly left my husband during IKEA trip to id potential kitchens (not that he even realised but I felt better for considering it).

* transported four highly excited under 9s through the wilds of Wiltshire to their first chess tournament. They only came 8/12 bc of a mahoosive amount of adult-sanctioned cheating by other schools. Seriously a headmaster who calls his under 9 pupils 'stupid' bc they lost a chess match??

* realised not every family plays maths and history and word games during 'long' car trips'! Who knew?

* mortified my son by banning the use of all the blurry DS consoles those children had for an hour during the six we spent at said tournament.

* been reminded of all the fabulous and exciting history there is on our doortsep here in Engerland.

* not been asked for interview to a job I would have loved.

* bought my daughter a new school bag following on from the saga last term.

* met old friend and children (inc god daughter) for lunch in beautiful Cathedral surrounds.

* had verbal smackdown with Mr. HeadTeacher twice. Once about the crazy-arse parking that goes on down there and the other about having held the door for the ENTIRE school (inc one teacher) and only one child said thank you. (And it wasn't my son, about which we have since had words ;-)

* had a meeting about teaching capability of destructoBoy's teacher because he is bored in class, every day.
* been called scarey by a parent at school.
* dobbed in stupid Yr. 8 students clever enough to hide out of sight from staff when smoking at playtime but sufficiently stupid to stand next to railing fence right beside road.

* praised highly to teacher the one child who did thank me for holding open school door.

* extremely lately handed over handmade birthday present to good friend and I think she liked it.

* had double success over at Posh Yarns Sunday night sellout. I foresee perhaps a hat for Princess C-W for Christmas with the pink sparkly one and the kicking-off off a garter stitch scarf kal this Friday with the chunky cashmere.

* nursed destructoboy through a whole month of ear infection. This entailed four visits to the doctors, three lots of antibiotics and one fight with the rottweilerXdoctors' receptionist. TG it has cleared up now and he is playing at top speed again.

* received a phonecall from YOT telling me my phone was being kept in their safe overnight if I would like to come and collect it the following morning. Oops!!
* recognised it is still six months away but have made a decision on d/Boy's birthday present.
* identified OMD's episodes as being epilepsy not a stroke.
* watched freezing on the sidelines as my son captained the under 9s to a distinct non-victory at the local schools football tournament. I was the screeching woman on the sidelines but offset my mania by cheering for the other teams too.

* purchased outfit for 80th birthday party this Saturday.

* attended Princess C-W's first ever secondary parent/teacher evening. Unlike most of her peers she didn't attend and so didn't hear how well-regarded she is by her teachers and how well she is doing in her classes. There was a little glow about us as parents by the end of it all. And I didn't even start-up on her History teacher. Perhaps it was bc she looked so knackered after dealing w grown-ups all evening. Perhaps it was bc she was our last stop and we could go home afterwards. I don't know why but remain impressed that I maintained my silence when she referred to 'our written conversation earlier in the year' and how she 'always encourages parents to help with the homework'. HA!

* taken the big black dog to the vet with a sore eye. Am hoping to stave off need to do this again.

* had The Bat Lady around to visit and am sending off her report today. This in turn means we apply for planning permission by the end of the week. If you want to voice an objection you have two months to lodge it with the relevant authority!

My rotten blurry Assistant

This morning I took destructoBoy to school and stopped up at Yukky Old Tesco to collect my phone which they rang me last night to tell me I had left there.

I was out of the house for about 25 minutes.

Only two dogs greeted me at the door on my return. The third was hiding upstairs.

When I went in to the living room I could see why.

Scraps of pink and red foil littered the carpet and a very forlorn mesh bag layed ripped on the floor. Not a scrap of chocolate in sight.

My assistant came down the stairs and tried to be my friend. Really really tried to be my friend. If she were a tall dog her paws would have been over my shoulders.

I turned away and rang the vet.

Apparently 75gm of milk chocolate inside a 10 kg dog is not a poison issue. Although I might want to keep her comfortable as her she may have a sore tummy.

There may have been a gasp of shock as I replied 'Good! I hope it hurts like hell.'

Now I have to tell d/Boy his secret chocolate Valentines are sitting inside the dog.

Rotten fecking blurry assistant

Oooops, sorry... I seem to have mislead you.

There seems to have been some error in the previous post. My worries about the old man appear to have been erroneous. The cheeky bastard is carrying on like he didn't give me emotional heart failure on Monday.

He is eating like a really hungry horse, weeing and pooing for Great Britain and enjoying a gentle stroll up the lane with CK. His rear end is not necessarily listening to the plans the front half is making and regularly tries to go in a different direction which, in turn, results in regular spontaneous connections with the ground but generally he is annoyingly cheery and perky.

I shall be submitting the invoice for my counselling sessions to his lord and master (that would be CK).

Right then, off to drug him with the glorious Vivitonin and then bed.

heartsore

Yesterday morning my old man dog stood up to go outside and shout at the melting snow. Unfortunately his back legs didn't come to the party. He made it out the front door only to fall flat on his tuchus.


CK and I spent the day observing him, looking for any little sign that would give hope. For hours there was nothing. His back legs were simply unable to bear weight and kept going out from under him.


We continued to watch. Silently. Both of us thinking the same thing but neither prepared to say it. Our victories were small. Standing for a second before collapsing. Managing to stagger across the room to CK rather than dragging himself using only his forelegs.


By teatime he was lying on the floor to eat. We continued sharing a look but saying nothing.


However Christmas miracles do occur and come bedtime he was standing, albeit gingerly. He spent the night upstairs in our room, curled up next to the heater. It obviously was a magic heater as the next morning he was able to walk downstairs with no more than the normal amount of assistance.


CK even took him out for a short walk yesterday afternoon.


I took him to the vet this morning and she confirmed that he has had another brain blowout. As she examined him she reminded me that it is all about quality of life and that for now my Old Man Dog has a great one.


For now this has to be enough.


My heart remains sore because I think we are on a path of diminishing returns and heartbreak won't be far off.

ScottFest 2010

Move over Glasto! The kids and I headed to ScottFest last Saturday.

The weather order was filled perfectly. Blue skies, huge fluffy white clouds and no breeze.

We got there early and set-up the prettiest tent in the universe and while the terences went off to explore I sat and read the paper CK had packed for me.

One of the dads took great delight in teaching d/Boy to ride a motorbike. My boy was a bit wobbly to start but after the first circuit of the showgrounds he got it and was off. Ride like the wind Bullseye!

Princess Curly-Wurly took full advantage of the mahoosive blow-up assault course and the stilts (Although fortunately NOT at the same time. No broken legs here thanks.) before comandeering the quad bike and pegging it around the perimeter of the venue as fast as she could. My heart was in my mouth the entire time until she took me on a ride and I realised 'as fast as she could' was not the same as 'as fast as the quad will go'.

Despite packing two bedrolls, three pillows, one mahoosive airbed, three sleeping bags, two duvets, two double thickness fleece blankets, a basket of warm clothes to wear as the evening approached, jammies, loo roll, knitting, drawing paper and pencil, food to keep the troops going through until breakfast including my assistant, water for us all, a deckchair for me and picnic blanket for the rest (breath) two trips were required back up the hill. The first was for more food and water. The second for CK's spare set of car keys because I was sure I had locked his in the boot. The alternative was too dreadful to consider.

The whole event was chilled out and relaxed with people taking it in turns to cook, tend to children, mix and pour drinks. There was a marquee put up so that the evening's entertainment (Nick Tatham) had somewhere to sit while he played and a fire pit for us all to stand around and toast marshmallows once he had finished.

One of my arch-nemesis was there and put his mono-pod (or eco-pod or some such stupid name for a solid-sided domed tent) right in front of my prettiest-tent-in-the-universe. Within about five minutes he came across all smiley, hippy-happy and said

'Can't we be friends? I hate having to avert my eyes when I see people.'

'I'm not the one who said I don't like Australians' says I sunglasses down, attitude high.

'Oh you shouldn't take any notice of that. I'm a South African. (WTF?!?) Friends?' as he stretched out his hand.

Again he said 'Friends?'

Sunglasses still on I agreed and shook his hand, all the while grimacing on the inside.

d/Boy was getting quite tired by 10pm so after making the mahoosive trek to the far end of the Showgrounds and using the real loos (glamping all the way here baby) he, my assistant and I retired for the night. After a 20 minute struggle with the bedding mountain we fell asleep. Princess C-W crawled in at 11.30!

We slept well until half 3 when the requisite night-time wee was required. Of course I could not find the lead so had to hold my assistant while excavating a very sleepy d/Boy from the bedding mountain then around the back of the tent for a wee rather than head to the other end of the field. All relatively straight forward until my bladder decided it too needed to experience the full joy of camping so still holding my assistant I had to undertake all aspects of outdoor weeing with one free hand.

The whole experience was exacerbated by the proximity of the tent to a boarding kennels. My assistant was wriggling like a lunatic and growling through my hand clamped around her jaw all while d/Boy was standing admiring the bazillion stars visible in the cloud-free sky. As we settled back inside the blanket mountain that d/Boy turned to me and said 'I don't like camping.'

We shall see next Summer my boy, we shall see.

The tale end of the birthday.

This was the last birthday cake of destructoBoy's birthday week.

The Old Man Dog's help breaking into the Treasure Chest was graciously declined.

The 'X' was located and the treasure found.

There was smashing, joy and excitement.

And at the end - complete exhaustion.

So this was the reply I sent...

"Obviously rudeness was unintentional but there was an incident happening where the dogs were trying to attack the postie. It was an issue of priorities, we are already on the Royal Mail's hitlist.

Glad to hear L was not seriously injured and yes, character is a good thing to possess. "

And for those not au fait w my dogs' reactions to Smiley Carol click here.

A farming success.

Two weeks ago my assistant decided it was time to harvest the crops down in the Lower 40

There was much dirt scattered as these beauties were uncovered.

On reflection the harvesting may have been a bit premature, the largest of these was about 2.25 cm and the smallest about .5 cm

Easter holidays 2010

chocolate.

Chocolate pancakes.

Tilling and seeding the Lower 40. Potatos, onions and flowers all planted.

New tent! Bought with their own money. Has been a source of great delight and fun since it was first put up.

Uhoh!

After a fabulous half hour hacking through the undergrowth d/Boy found 25 tennis balls. Funny how he got everyone's attention.

d/Boy went on a patisserie kick. We had eclairs. It is safe to say these were greatly enjoyed.

Bah humbug!

Having waited since about 9 am for the rain to stop I decided to just get brave, stick a raincoat on and take the dogs out for walk .

I should have known there was an issue when I spotted her across the road. She clocked my three sitting waiting at the kerbside waiting to be told to cross and the tension travelling to her dog via the lead was palpable from where I stood. She headed toward town and I called my mob on and we went out into the weather.

Just recently my assistant has become enamoured of chasing a ball. Really fast. Especially if it is thrown from a flinger. Problem is she likes to kill balls during the quiet periods so our house is littered with denuded and split tennis balls. Today all I could find to fling was a completely bald and quite dead looking projectile.

Being smooth it bounced like no one's business. Right into the flowerbed in the rose garden. With the old man dog's lead in hand and my assistant bouncing like a lunatic behind me I was able to lean over the railings and pick it up using said flinger. I flung it again. Bounce! Into the shrubs this time. No way I could reach it I would have to go in.

No dogs allowed in the council rose gardens so I tied the OMD up to the rails, the black dog sniffed and snuffled along the grass verge and my assistant ran from one end of the fence to the other waiting for me to fling it again (oh the faith of the obsessed). In my periphery I noticed a cream coloured, small dog. Lots of fluff, big bulgey eyes and a sticky-out panty tongue. With its lead going all the way up to the weird woman I saw earlier.

I get the ball and head back out to my mob.
She said "I came in here to get away from you!"
"Thanks very much!" I said continuing to walk on all the while thinking 'Crazy old witch!'.
"I'll give you time to get ahead."
"I'm not going anywhere."
"Your dogs ..."
"My dogs are perfectly well-behaved."

Silly old witch.

January 8 2010

Ours is the only school in a ten mile radius that has opened today. Princess Curly-Wurly and destructoBoy are torn between delight and despair.


I filled them up with hot breakfasts (crumpets and cereal for one, porridge and crumpets for the other and hot chocolate with marshmallows for both) then we set off into the polar landscape down the hill to school.

Although a bit slippy slidey along the flat our minds were taken by the view before us. Hoar-frosted trees, fields encased in white. The black dogs ran like hooligans, barking and snarling, snapping wildly at each other as they dashed through the snow. We chose the 'safest' option to get to the bottom, figuring age has its benefits and a cobbled path with a handrail made more sense than a tarmac one trodden to glass by a thousand teenage feet.

Arriving safely at school we were greeted (oleaginously) by Mr. Headteacher complete with snow shovel in hand. I left them safely ensconced in the hall, busy planning what they would make in the imminent snow sculpture competition, a hotly fought battle. Last year's winners were Pr C-W's team with a fabulous 3D model of a penguin.

random heart shape

Did I mention we have a puppy? Not so little anymore, she is 10 months old. And she is housetrained.




Mostly.

One night last week when the childer were in bed CK called me out into the hall.

"Your daughter's puppy didn't make it outside."

Funny how on those occasions she is MY daughter.

Day Six - Sits. vacant.

Due to this organisation's internal restructuring an exciting position has opened up with scope for a skilled and enthusiastic individual.

Recent expansion of the firm has meant rapid increase in the workforce and we are looking for a team member to fill the position of 'My assistant'. The successful applicant will have focus and foresight.

We encourage drive and commitment within this organisation and independent working is rewarded according to a sliding scale.

Do you think this sounds like you? Do you have the determination to succeed, overcoming all obstacles (including closed doors and high tables)?

All applications to the senior management.

How we keep Smiley Carol smiley :-)

Smiley Carol is our post lady. For some reason my large black dog reeeeaaaaaaalllly doesn't like her. Fortunately he was sound asleep after breakfast the day Smiley Carol dropped off TWO packages!

The first was all the way East Coast USA from the very humorous WMK.

Humorous because while Sylv was here I may have mentioned her husband's propensity for making squawks, chirps and similar R2D2 noises. I presumed the Lego Leia a la Jabba the Hutt era is for me to emulate and be strong and brave.

During her holiday in August Missus Stashbasket undertook some displacement activity in the flight, as a result of that and some handy sock knitting while in Portugal, Cintia came into my life.

She brought with her a selection of felty, coloured balls.

And some of Missus Stash's kitcheny goodness.

The jam was divine and enjoyed by all of us while just CK and I are sharing the chutney. Pah! Those childer don't know what they are missing out on (but jolly glad they chose not as it means more for my sandwiches ;-)

My assistant was particularly crafty in her attempts to catch Cintia and sample the final delight she brought with her.

Mmmmmmmmmmmm.

we got presents (part the third)

To end this week of lovely gift show and tell up here at Trash Towers we have Secret Pal Swap 14. This is my second parcel from my swapper and once again she has nailed exactly the right things to send.

First thing visible on undoing the bubble wrap was a tin. Oh how I love tins. Boxes to put things in. Lidded containers to be home to the many bits and pieces I keep on hand.

Things got even more exciting when I lifted the lid.

Look at all the loveliness hidden inside the tissue paper.

Two balls terracotta and one white of Rowan silk cotton (My luvverly swapper lady suggests a beret-oh I think so!) , a pin of nine gorgeous snag-free stitchmarkers, a tube of ever-so fragrant and delicate strawberry and rose confiture direct from Bon Marche en Paris. And finally a bag of biscuitty bones for my doggers.

I think ....

... my hounds...

approve.