Secretarial Duties

Before my break from blogging I mentioned that I was likely getting an allotment and I did indeed get my plot.
I haven't been able to get there this year with all of Dad's ongoing health concerns but this Sunday is the AGM. 
None of this is very exciting I know, but it's written into the constitution that officers can only hold a post for three years, so the treasurer, secretary & chairman have to be changed every three years.  
This year the chairman and the secretary come to the end of their three year stint and thus those two posts need to be filled.
Last year I volunteered to be a committee member, there's not a whole lot to it, going to regular meetings throughout the summer and going on a water rota every few weeks - where you attend on a Saturday morning & turn on the mains water to allow people to fill up their water butts if they've run low.
So they're after a new chairman and a new secretary.
I've somehow volunteered to be secretary!
So that's me with a new job for the next 3 years!

It's been slow going on my allotment, it's a large space and I can't afford to do everything in one go, so I've just been growing as much as I can and slowly adding more to my plot. Last year I bought myself a shed and got that erected.
I also bought a greenhouse but that is still waiting for another pair of hands to help me erect it. I need to build the wooden base first but I've no idea where to start!

I'm hoping this year to initiate a chicken time share on my plot!
I really want to have chickens, but I really don't want to have to visit every day, and I reckon there must be other people who only want to have to visit once or twice a week. So my plan is to find those other people and we can work out a rota of chicken care, getting allocated one or two days a week, and you get the eggs that have been laid on the day you're on rota to feed and water them. This is a genius plan is it not?

I've purchased a boat load of weed suppressing material this year so I intend to dig up and replant all my strawberries. I had a mammoth harvest last year, but without the weeds, they should do even better.

I have a path running down the centre of my plot and the beds on the right are for fruit and the plots on the left for vegetables. I'll be laying the weed suppressing material at the feet of the blackcurrants, redcurrants and whitecurrants and at the feet of the blackberry, tayberry and gooseberry bushes.  Hopefully I'll have plenty so that I can lay it around the globe artichoke bed too.
I decided to extend my globe artichoke, doubling it in size, despite the fact I had way more globe artichokes than I knew what to do with at their last harvest. I must be obsessed!

So, this year's jobs are to be the new secretary, build my greenhouse, get the weeds under control, put down the suppressing material, grow lots and lots of peas, have a better sweetcorn harvest than last year and possibly get a chicken coop made!
Anyone for digging?
Please? ;)

Happy New Year

I realise that it's the 9th of March, a long time after January 1st, but today the sun was shining so brilliantly I took the chance to start tidying the garden.

For the record, starting a petrol lawnmower with your left hand when your right arm has tennis elbow, is really bloody hard work!

Anyway, as usual, I have digressed, it's wonderful to see everything growing, it's a new year for all my flowers.  New buds are appearing everywhere & I start to get excited about all the flowers that'll open in the coming months.
My climbing rose has gone bananas, I'm not sure, even if I add some new trellis that I'll be able to contain it.
I planted my new rose - Lady Marmalade - that I got for Christmas.  It's very cool having a rose that shares my name, albeit my adopted internet name!
The first of my tulips are flowering, daffodils on the verge of joining them, snowdrops coming to their end.
The red tips of the paeony are just pushing through the soil.
A flurry of crocus' that I don't remember planting are battling for sunshine.
It's been such a mild winter that some sweet peas are already starting to climb the willow obelisks that I made last year.
Even my verbena bonariensis has survived the winter, I'm quite delighted at how full and promising the garden looks.
I filled up my wood store too, ready for a year of barbecues & fire pit evenings.  And hopefully of pizza if a new oven can be built to take the place of Colin Falstaff, who didn't survive the winter.  I'm going to have to google where to purchase clay for oven building....
I just wish you didn't look such a billy no mates if you chose to sit around a fire pit on your own.
Although, it has to be said, usually the grass ends up catching on fire, and it's a definite bonus if there's more than one of you about to throw water on the ensuing blaze.
Perhaps the job this year should be to find a less flammable location for the firepit!

It might be that today was just a blip of sudden heat in a cool spring, but it was a delight to sit in the sunshine, surrounded by the cacophony of mowers in neighbouring gardens.  I like that spring clean of the garden, it's the beginning of the welcoming in of summer, although it does mean I really have to get down to the allotment, build my greenhouse and start my plants growing, ready for a bumper harvest - well I can but hope!

Random Rounding Up

Last year I contemplated hacking my fringe off. I neglected to update and say I had done just that, look see:

So here's the thing. I decided I would just go for a just-above-eyebrow length fringe, to start with and work up to a super short one.
So, I concentrated hard to make a straight line.
Then I relaxed my face to see how it looked.
Apparently I'd massively raised my eyebrows in concentration and my fringe? Much shorter than I'd intended.
I spent the rest of the week flattening it down and unconsciously pulling on it.
I'm not sure I'd have cut it so short if not by accident, but I've come to like it. It's makes my face squarer and I just don't care. We care a jot too much about what we should and shouldn't wear, what does and doesn't suit us. What the hell, I'm going to cut my hair any way I jolly well like.

What I didn't foresee was the amount of people stopping me to talk about my hair, some physically grabbing me to say how they liked it. And what surprised me more than anything was the age of the complimenter, the vast percentage being well past retirement age.
I'd wondered if my new, visible, tattoos combined with my bright hair would make people quick to judge me, but that hasn't been the case at all.
Not that I have any idea what people are saying behind my back of course!
But then, I'd have to care about what was being said!

I spent the entirety of August unwell. I got Croup. My younger sister refers to it as my baby disease. There was no recommended treatment for adults, because adults don't get it. Hmph.
Let me tell you, it's a horrible thing. It's like flu, with a cough that is antagonised by every single thing you do. Want to talk? That'll make you cough. Want to sit upright? Why that'll make you cough too. Want to buy milk in the shop? Yup, that'll make you cough. Not just any kind of cough, the one that makes people threaten to call the Sea Lion rescue centre. The kind that makes your ribs feel like they'll explode. Couple that with the extreme fatigue and it's just wonderful. I kept saying that I was sure I'd be fine, whilst all the time thinking it was the most unwell I could remember feeling for years and years.

Prior to the miserable croup I was at Cambridge Folk Festival, which was super this year. I had a wonderful time, the croup made its appearance on the Sunday evening, I was aware I was starting to feel unwell but made it to the end and dutifully sang along with Show of Hands as the closing act. Actually, I would like to thank the croup for waiting until after the festival to put in an appearance.
Anyway, despite a little rain, I really had a fabulous festival indeed, come along next year, all of you, I'll befriend you!

In other news, I'm getting an allotment. Oh yes. I rang the lady, I should have my plot of land in a matter of months.
She told me the plot is approximately 40m by 10m.
Well put me down for half a plot says I!
Then I go away and think about it, suddenly 20m by 10m starts to sound smaller and smaller.
If I had a full plot I could have a dedicated asparagus bed, and a globe artichoke bed, room for masses of my beloved peas, a polytunnel!
I rang back, please make it a full plot dear lady!
Because I have OCD I have created a scale plan of the area.
Holy hell 40m by 10m is a big space. What the hell was I thinking?
Digging anyone?

I have decided to do an Open University Degree, with Honours no less.
It came about after reading a lot different blogs online, reading peoples ideas, their opinions and realising that I really needed to go back to learning, that I needed something extra in my life and that maybe, for the first time I can ever remember, I really wanted to study.
I wanted to learn more about Feminism.
My attitude towards myself and my environment has altered so dramatically over the past couple of years that I wanted to add more fuel to that, to the discovery.
After some trawling through prospectus after prospectus, I'm going to do an Open Degree, I like the freedom that gives me. I can study some Social Sciences, some Criminology and Psychology, do some Environmental Studies and also try to take on some of the History courses over the years.
I wonder if my long held love of folk music and my growing interest in the English tradition has led to my desire to learn more about England and our/my heritage.
It's exciting and it's nerve racking.
I hated school. With the exception of seeing my friends, there was nothing about it I enjoyed.
I had this overwhelming feeling of not fitting in. I knew there was something a bit weird about me, I knew I had desires veering towards the eccentric, but I didn't know anyone else like that and I caved to peer pressure. I did my GCSEs, and despite zero revision, I did pretty well. Then, as all my friends were doing it, I progressed to A Levels. I didn't want to, but my paralysing terror of the big wide world was worse. I didn't revise for my A Levels either and fluffed one of them totally. My friends were heading to University. I really didn't want to go to Uni but what the hell was I supposed to do? I didn't want to work either. Not through laziness, but through fear of all those new people to meet.
I look back now and see the social anxiety but back then I just knew I had to do everything I could to avoid actually getting out there.

So I went to night school to get a different A Level, and after that, then I would go to Uni.
It goes without saying I fluffed the night school A Level too. I hated the topic.
Suddenly, all choices were gone. Work was looming. I had to get a job.
I did. And you know what? It wasn't nearly as bad as I'd imagined, not only that, I made new friends and whilst the job was crappy, I had fun!
I'm never studying again I thought to myself.
I've always said I'm just not academic. I'm just not made that way. I'm not good at essays. I can't write that way.

But now? I just think that nothing piqued my curiosity, I wasn't actually interested in learning. I couldn't find subjects that I was passionate about. It's taken almost 2 decades but I've found the things that pique my curiosity. I've found the passion for learning.

I think it all started with my discovery of the Body/Size/Fat Acceptance movement. Reading what those ladies had to say was inspiring. It challenged my beliefs, it made me challenge things generally. As an intelligent woman I'm almost surprised at how willing I was to just believe everything I heard & read as the truth.
Then the feminism started to creep in and my desire to read more grew and grew. I feel like my eyes are opening wider and wider day after day. I feel like there are people out there with whom I share a common ground. That maybe they didn't fit in either all this time.

It feels like a time of discovery is on my horizon.

Gardening

I was never much of a gardener, really didn't like getting my hands dirty, couldn't really care less what the names were and whether they were annual, biennial, blah blah blah.
And yet, somehow it happened, without my knowledge, I love being out there. I wonder if, as the child of a gardener the love of it will somehow kick in.
I don't like to wear gloves, I want to get my hands buried deep in the dirt. I've read that it's supposed to be good for mental health and I second that study. Watching something grow, getting the jolt of excitement when something you planted finally sticks those first leaves through the soil it just makes you feel....good.
I only have a small garden, so as time goes by it becomes more and more planned. It has to be functional. It has to be pretty. It has to feed me.
With my newly purchased fire pit, bench, swing seat and picnic bench it serves as an entertaining space, somewhere to relax, somewhere to read, somewhere to just be.
The lupins, paeony, poppies, tulips, lavender, lillies, pansies, daisies, day lillies, gladioli and all their friends make it a colourful place to be, it makes me smile to see all those colours. And, interspersed in the flower borders are the leaves of the beetroot, kohlrabi, the fronds of the asparagus which are voraciously proving me wrong when I said they'd never grow.
The Jerusalem (f)artichokes are moving ever skywards looking more and more like their cousins the sunflower.

I always put off watering the garden, it's a chore, trailing back & forth from butt to pots but every time I start watering I get lost in it. I stand for that short time, studying each plant as the water pours forth.

How many more little red flower buds there are on the runner beans today, the very first, tiny flowers have appeared on my asparagus pea, how the lettuces are starting to bolt in the hot summer that has blessed us this year.
In my small space I've managed to fit a surprising amount of vegetables, without it looking like an allotment.

I love lists, even though they're boring to everyone else, but check this out:
Alpine Strawberries
Angelica
Asparagus
Asparagus Pea
Beetroot - 4 varieties, 1 specifically for harvest as a salad leaf
Broad Beans
Butternut Squash
Carrots - 3 varieties
Courgettes
Fennel
Globe Artichoke
Gooseberry
Jerusalem Artichoke
Kohlrabi
Lettuce - hearting varieties, cut and come again, oriental.....
Peas - 2 varieties
Pea Tips - to harvest for use in salads
Potatoes - 1st & 2nd earlies
Pot Marigolds - to harvest the petals for use in salad
Radish - 3 varieties
Red Perilla
Rhubarb
Runner Beans
Spinach
Strawberries
Swiss Chard - 2 varieties
Tomatillo

Outside my front door, along the drive there's mint, rosemary, sorrel, thyme, tarragon, sage, lemon balm, applemint, oregano, chives, fennel, dill, red orach and parsley. In the conservatory my cucumbers and tomatoes, yet I still find myself wondering how I can fit more harvestable produce in the garden! I'm adding more and more edible flowers. From the day lily to the lavender to the pot marigold. This year will bring raspberries and blackcurrants.

All of this is fitted into a pretty small space, as made obvious by the duck squatter photos below, and yet through the summer it is enough to give me a salad at least once a day.
Above all, it's easy, it takes almost no time to maintain, and in truth took very little time to get it planted, it gives me so much pleasure that I can't even begin to take it for granted.

Get out there, dig in the soil, relish it getting under your fingernails!

Getting Back To It

So, it's been a long old time. Hello!

Losing Mifford really sent me into a funk, you know I went day to day in my jolly mode but something really left me when she did.

It's months later, I've just celebrated a birthday and it's time to get back into it.

First things first, an introduction.

This is Kini:

She came to live with me some months ago. I'd quite decided that I wouldn't have another cat, but the empty house proved too much. Then out of the blue I heard that a little cat was looking for a new home. I went to meet her, she was incredibly timid, quite the opposite of Mifford so I wasn't sure what to expect.
On her first night here I lost her, I knew she was in the house but she seemed to have just vanished, I eventually located her holed up behind the computer in a space about half her size.
Over the months she's changed considerably, she's shy around new people but the difference is tremendous. From hiding under the bed any time anyone even breathed in a different way she now wants to investigate every new person that comes round. She still refuses to leave the house but will always be found sitting in the window chattering away at the birds.
She has started to miaow and is quite vocal about her opinions on various things!

Her previous owners had named her Sacha and I hadn't really liked the name, but didn't have any new names in mind. She's black all over apart from a white neckerchief and a white bikini and thus Kini she became. Although her nickname is Pigeon. I have no idea why. Just as I have no idea why I called Mifford, Poodle. I'm just odd.

I've spent a lot of time in the garden of late too, I grow a lot of my own veg so I've been getting that going and also trying to make it look tidier. There was this one corner which was always dreadful, where my swing seat sits and where some of my beans & peas are growing. It was a nightmare to mow so I decided to take up the turf and lay bark chips with this result:

Feel free to come on over and chill out with me out there, once the cushions are in place you can lose hours just gently swinging, plus, the fire pit I ordered for my birthday arrived yesterday so we can even spend the cooler evenings swinging away. I'll light the lanterns, fire up the barbeque and it'll be spot on!

Peppers

As I've been getting into growing my own vegetables this year, Mum gave me a gift of two boxes; one contained compost and tomato seed, the other more compost and pepper seeds.
I duly planted them and small plants grew.
I've happily eaten the tomatoes that have grown like mad in my conservatory and the peppers appear to be reaching the point where they're starting to ripen.
They're called Bolivian Rainbow and the peppers go all different colours, at the same time, on the plant, thus creating a lovely rainbow effect.
Anyway, I thought one looked as though it might be ready to eat.
I gently plucked it from the plant, held it between thumb and forefinger and gingerly gave it a gentle bite.
I barely broke the skin, in fact to look at it, you wouldn't know I'd bitten it at all.
However, I suddenly got the sensation that I'd stuck my tongue to the inside of an oven that had been heated up to temperatures similar to those seen on the sun.
I ran from the conservatory, heading at speed for the kitchen, all the while bemoaning, out loud, that I'd used up all the milk.
I grabbed the cold water from the fridge, poured a glass, then proceeded to sit with tongue immersed in cold water.

I'm not known for my tolerance for heat in food, I struggle even to eat black pepper. I am incredibly glad all I did was break the skin of the pepper, otherwise I suspect I may have combusted.

I looked it up online, those bell peppers that you slip into salad, maybe add to a stir fry, they have a heat rating of zero. That's zero.
Those Bolivian Rainbow buggers? Six. Six! Holy shit! I was lucky my head didn't come off.
So now I have two plants, each with dozens of peppers that I can't eat.
Still, the tomatoes were nice.

Craic

So here's what's been going on:

I had a weird dream. A really weird dream. Actually I had two, but the second one faded to nothing and I'm really cross I forgot it.
However the first one was superbly surreal.
I dreamt that I had a baby. It was a little boy, I don't remember naming him but a short while later I'd misplaced the baby. Careless and anywhere other than a dreamworld, a really terrible thing! Anyway, I had another baby, this time it was a girl. It was only a little while later and I seem to remember that mid birthing process I decided I'd have a sleep and finish off in the morning. Very realistic obviously. So in the morning I had a baby girl. I was really stressed out because I couldn't decide on a name for her. Then I found the baby boy and both babies turned into cats. Weirdly the baby boy turned into Mifford - especially as Mifford is a female cat. I was really worried that the baby boy/Mifford wouldn't like the baby girl/other cat, especially as I hadn't named her, but then Mifford starting licking the face of the other cat and I was ecstatically happy.
That's weird right?

My choice for a belated Song of The Week is coming up, damn this is a seriously sexy song, there was one video that had some superb photography but I went with this one instead.

Jace Everett - Bad Things:


I've been out in the garden quite a lot, eating almost exclusively every evening from what I've picked fresh from the vegetable patch. Salad is one of my favourite things in the world! Also I've had to put in new sowings of various things. I want my allotment!
Speaking of which.... I took a wander round the village to post back one of my lovefilm dvd's and as I passed the village noticeboard I paused to see what was posted there. I found myself reading, thoroughly, the minutes of the recent Parish Council meeting. I read the whole thing and what worries me most is that I found it quite interesting.
I got to read a bit about what is happening as regards the allotments and it's good to know I might still be in the running for a wee plot of land. Fingers crossed.

Someone ran into my Sky dish. I have a caravan as my prime suspect. What was really a pain was that it was going to take almost a full week to get it repaired. Again. It's sited in a ridiculous place and is frequently getting bash by high vehicles. Anyway, the delightful engineer arrived early on Saturday morning and moved the dish to a location that will require incredible ingenuity to be hit with anything at all. Oh how I missed my TV!

But, on the plus side, it did mean that I found time to sit and watch the entire box set of My So-Called Life. I am obviously deeply in love with Jordan Catalano again. What's rather disturbing is that, as this came out originally in 1994, I am now closer in age to the parents in the series than the kids. Crap. Back then, they were twice my age, now they're just 5 years older. Crap.

Oh, the other week I went to see the Battlefield Band! My last gig for a while, but on the upside I do have Cambridge Folk Festival in just over a week! Must be getting near the time where I have to start choosing my outfits! The weather forecast is not looking pretty so I suspect a lot of my outfits will be revolving around wellies. What looks good with wellies? Hmm? Anyone?
Yeah, nothing.
Can you even dance in wellies? This remains to be seen. Although to be fair, I'm not so sure that I dance so much as flail wildly and jump around. I'm not sure about my ability to dance a ceilidh in wellies though... what a shame there will be no video of my attempts.

I'm attempting to slowly take down my hateful conifer hedge. I don't strictly have permission to do so, so am attempting a very definite trim of the hedge in the hope it won't survive. If you feel like lopping off a few branches, please don't hesitate to pop over, for I shall not hesitate in handing to you the loppers! I'm wildly generous that way.
Mum is coming to stay for a while so I'll offer to let her cut some hedge too. See, my generosity knows no bounds.

Oh and finally, I have not sustained any new injuries! Remember that incident with the hand blender and my finger? The fingernail dropped off. Nice eh? Not in a gross way though - which is what I was really worried about. The slashed nail grew until finally it was too weak to carry on. It was a bit misshapen for a while but I think it's actually going to be ok, I'm sure that's a massive relief for everyone. I will have normal (ish) fingernails. Well, until the next time I do myself an injury that is....

Salad Days

There is something about getting your lunch fresh from the garden that I just love. The freshness of the lettuce, the sweetness of the carrots and those peas. I have spoken many, many times about my love of peas, but these, just minutes old from the plant are wonderful.
I really, really hope that I'm able to get an allotment because I need more peas. I'm sure that I could exist on a diet of peas and lettuce.
With the odd block of chocolate, naturally. I only wish I could grow that myself too!

Song Of The Week LVIII

It's been a good week this week.
I pulled up outside my house just as our postlady, Pearl, was about to deliver my mail, she paused and said how jealous she was of my Sylvac collection. No-one is ever jealous of my Sylvac, I'm the only person I know that really likes it. But Pearl said she always wanted to break my window and steal the items on my windowsill. So at least I'll have a prime suspect if that ever happens!

Also, my Dad went for some surgery on Tuesday, it all went really well so that's a worry off the mind. I got a call on Wednesday morning to say he was ready to come home. I wasn't expecting him till the afternoon and had gone out on some chores, so I set off with only a couple of road numbers as directions, to a hospital I'd never been to before. I'll have you know, I drove straight there with nary a wrong turn. My sense of direction must finally be coming to life.
So, I find the hospital, go into the car park and savour the feeling of being in a car where the windows wind down and enable me to reach my arm out and get a ticket, instead of having to get out of the car!

I stride my way across the car park when I suddenly hear a shout and turn towards the voice. A gentleman is yelling that he loves my hair. It's been this shade of scarlet for such a long time I almost forget, in fact it never really feels very red to me. He catches up with me and joins me as we walk into the hotel, continuing to compliment me on my hair, which was very sweet really, particularly as it really could have done with a wash. He then says that he wishes he had a camera so he could photograph me.
At this point I'm not sure if it's still a compliment or not, or just a little odd.
I'm going to believe it to be a compliment.

Wednesday night I went to a gig. I'd been really looking forward to it and am no longer even slightly nervous about going on my own. I'd never have believed that possible.
With the exception of the elderly couple to my left it was excellent. They were a little hard of hearing and their whispered conversation was a rather shouted. And they weren't fragrant in a good way. Oh well, they didn't stay till the end, which I wasn't wholly sorry about.
This leads me to this weeks song, this is who I went to see:

Eliza Carthy - Like I Care:

In this video she is pretty heavily pregnant and still jumping about, she just seems to love the music.
Her new baby girl was there at the gig, born on Christmas Eve and christened Florence Daisy, which I think is a really lovely name.
My niece was doing the lighting for the gig so I'd offered her a lift home afterwards, knowing I'd have to wait for her to sort out all the equipment and stuff first.
So, when the gig ended, I went back out to the foyer, sat at a table and drifted off into my own thoughts. Until some people sat down immediately behind me, they were Eliza's friends, then Eliza arrived. So they all sat in this big jolly, chatty group and I was sitting there like a billy-no-mates. Some sort of stalkery hanger on. So I decided to nonchalantly wander off and read the posters on the wall (after having already read them all thoroughly several times already).
Slowly the place emptied and all that was left were the venue staff and the band.
I hung around in the foyer still. I watched the sound guy huff and puff his way around, if you look up asshole, there will be a picture of this guy. I swear it. I don't know what was wrong with him, but I swear he tried to run me down with a double bass.
It was some time later and it was clear the band were almost ready to go, when Eliza reappeared, with little Florence.
I am still hanging around. At this point I start to feel like she thinks I'm some desperate hanger on.
My internal monologue is telling me to be quiet, go read the posters again, take out my book and read it, but for goodness sakes to keep my mouth shut.
"She's a really beautiful baby" I say. I just can't keep my mouth shut.
My internal monologue is screaming at me to shut up, don't say anything else.
Eliza smiles and says she thinks so.
"By the way, I'm totally not a stalker hanging around here, my niece did the lighting and I'm waiting to take her home". My internal monologue never wins, I always feel the need to explain my behaviour, except instead of people thinking I'm NOT crazy, the opening of my mouth has the opposite effect.
Eliza looked unconvinced and left very soon after.
Way to go, me.

Whilst I was hanging around in that foyer I noticed that The Ukulele Orchestra of Great Britain were playing on Friday 1st May in Lincoln - I couldn't believe I hadn't known and was cursing my serious lack of funds.
However, I have tickets and am going this evening, thanks to Dad! Hurrah.

There was a sad moment this week. I decided that it would be best if Beastie went to the autobreakers. She had a few more problems than I realised after a friend came to look at her and I realised I was going to have difficulties selling her on. Thursday afternoon rolled around and in rolled the autobreaker truck.
"Will she start?" he asked me?
"Most definitely" I replied. Of course she'll start, first time too, she's a very good girl and I love her with all my heart.
As the autobreaker dude blocked the drive, a man with a delivery of very long planks of wood suddenly appeared. We looked at each other and I said I didn't think he was in luck.
"I'll have to pole vault over" he suggested.
"Do it, do it" I encouraged.
"You'd be impressed if I made it, wouldn't you?"
"Hell, that's my car on the back of the truck, even if you don't make it, I'll be entertained and cheered."
"It's going to be scrapped?"
"Don't you say the S word!!!!"
"Sorry, she's going to the place for cars in the sky?"
"Yes, to a better place"
I'm sorry to say that I just closed the door of autobreaker man's truck, there was no pole vaulting.
Beastie was carried away on the back of a truck and I was overwhelmed with guilt, I admit I had to sit down and have a big cry.

At least the sun is shining, I got more veg planted in the garden and I also started myself a little gardening blog. Mostly for my own benefit, I wanted to keep notes of what I liked and what I didn't. It's also really interesting to be able to note how long things took to germinate, how long it was before I was harvesting some crops.
I'm also hoping to be able to get some notes on any foraging I get to do this year. When I mentioned that I was planning on making Elderflower cordial this year I was asked if I would be selling it, by two separate people. So I'm definitely going to have to try and get that made well. Although I don't think I'll be selling it!

So, has it been a good week for you too?

Sprung

Spring has truly sprung.
It was so deliciously warm yesterday I decided to do a circuit of my garden with my book. Now, it's only a tiny garden, but the circuit starts at the swing seat, until that's fully in shade, then move over to the bench until the sun starts to make me melt. Then it's back to the house to pick up the blanket I forgot to bring out earlier. Lay down the blanket, prop self up on elbows and delve further into book. At this point Mifford lays against me, where she stays until too hot to even touch, at which point she moves to the shade, then once cooled, it's back to the sun.

I've said it time and again but daisies are my favourite flower. Look at that happy face, petals still unfurling. Makes you smile eh?

That's my vegetable patch. Isn't it wee! I can't tell you how those seedlings excite me.

So, whilst daisies are my favourite, there is something about pansies that make me happy. I have pots of them outside my front door, I swear each and every flower smiles to the sun. In fact they smile at the rain too, they have this joie de vivre about them.

And.... I just don't believe anyone couldn't love daffodils.
Even my sister likes them and I told her they were edible, so she ate a whole one. She wasn't well. I wasn't popular.

The sun was out again today and I decided it was time to hit the countryside on my doorstep. It's a funny thing, I really enjoy walking alone, there's something about setting your own pace, stopping whenever you want without worrying about holding up someone else or a whole group, but there's that concern that you're out in the sticks on your own and that is somehow dangerous.
The world as it is today, is dangerous - not that it hasn't always been. It's not as if murder and rape are new crimes, but we are infinitely more aware of it and there were moments as I walked and didn't pass a single other person that I felt vulnerable. But what are we to do? Stay home, just in case? I don't feel like I can do that, besides which, to be honest I was most scared of this cow:

That one on the left, I think there's evil in its eyes.

It was so incredibly pretty out there, all the spring bulbs having pushed their way through, I only wish I'd taken a proper camera.

The wild garlic is out - so I'm going to go back and harvest a little at some point as I have a recipe for wild garlic pesto. And I do so adore pesto. The idea of a wild garlic version just sounds delicious.
I'm actually really interested in the idea of foraging, I've been sitting with my copy of Food For Free by Richard Mabey and the idea of finding edible leaves right here on my doorstep, wild and free is fascinating. It also seems like a great way to learn more about the flora. I recognise the fauna, having stood quietly on a path and watching a hare potter about in a field, hopping this way and that. There were also so many wonderful birds singing from the skies and trees. I don't think I ever tire of the sound of the skylark, or in fact of the sight of goldfinches flitting from here to there and back again.
So, I recognise the birds and animals well enough, but the plants? Not so much, what's edible? What's going to make me ill? No clue beyond the obvious things that everyone knows. I wonder if there are foragers in my area... time for some investigation I think...

Green Fingers & Square Eyes

On Sunday I roused myself and discovered the sun was shining and the sky was as blue as can be so I decided that it was finally time to get into the garden and start my vegetables off.
I'd already planted my potatoes and Jerusalem Artichokes but I had a couple of boxes of seed begging for their turn in the compost.
So I managed to plants carrots, beetroot, radishes, peas, beans, sweetcorn, leeks, globe artichokes, strawberries and heartsease.
I then ran out of space.
I'd already needed to stage a run to the garden centre to top up on compost and came home with 360 litres of the stuff.
In order to extend my growing area I flattened out and laid down some cardboard boxes, I then took my bucket and tip-toed over to the building site a short distance away and picked up lumps of abandoned broken brick, creating a border for my flat boxes. When I had a full border I dumped a couple of bags of compost onto the boxes, raked it out and abracadabra I had another planting space. It blocks out the weeds below, whilst the cardboard slowly degrades and allow the plants roots from above to work down. Genius I tell you. I can say that as it wasn't my idea. I saw it on TV. Like everything.
Anyway, it's the perfect bed for my lettuces, rocket and spinach.

I have since established that I am an impatient gardener. I planted this stuff on Sunday. Why hasn't it grown already. It's Wednesday! What are they playing at?!

Anyway, the sun was out today and the temperatures were really pleasant so I decided to have a quiet hour in the garden. I took oranges from the fruit bowl and juiced them, I grabbed a book and headed out. I called to Mifford and she joined me, resting happily in the sun as I swung gently on my swing seat. Mifford won't sit on the swing seat, it freaks her out I think. She got on once and I let it gently swing and her eyes started to bulge in terror as she tried to figure out why the hell the world was moving.
My swing seat is in the shade and after a bit the sun was clearly favouring the bench at the other side of the garden, so I moved over and Mifford decided this was the time to join me. We sat in the sun, my nose buried in a book.
A few moments later a fluttering announced the arrival of a huge wood pigeon who perched atop my fence and slowly fell asleep.
I noticed a buzzing close by and looked up from my book, a bumble bee was flying nearby, I watched him a moment as he landed on the lawn. I looked and said "no pollen down there mate", at which point he disappeared under a dandelion leaf (it's a bad lawn) and promptly vanished from sight. I clearly have a bumble bee home beneath the weedy lawn and this vaguely excites me. I stared at that patch of lawn for a while, waiting for him to reappear but eventually decided that he'd gone for a nap.
As I tore my eyes away from his home they came to rest on where I'd first planted my potatoes, my prayers had been answered, the very first tiny shoot had broken ground. I nearly applauded.
If only I hadn't used all 360 litres of compost I bought, those potatoes are going to need earthing up.
I'm feeling all green-fingered!

I'm also feeling square-eyed. I wonder if that's a phrase that translates well or not?
I love television. I do. I'd love to be able to apologise for it, but I just can't.
I really enjoy getting caught up in a new series. The fourth season of The Unit recently started here, I taped the first episode and for the whole of the following day I got a jolt of excitement when I thought about it waiting there for me to become absorbed.
I've only recently finished the fourth season of Lost on DVD and am sincerely wishing I hadn't missed the beginning of season five on TV.
I'm now watching season three of Prison Break which I really like, but I miss all the tattoo views, although I'm quite sure make-up are pleased he keeps his top on these days.
I'm also watching the second season of Dead Like Me which makes me laugh very loudly. I keep checking my Sky Planner to make sure that the end of the season isn't approaching as I'm going to miss it so much.
I actually decided that when I become a bazillionaire I am going to recommission all those shows that were cancelled before I was ready for them to end. Carnivale. Twin Peaks. Dead Like Me. I'll Fly Away. Boomtown. Dark Angel. The 4400. My So Called Life. Invasion. Daybreak. Jericho. Plus all the others that haven't immediately popped into my mind.

If it's crime drama I'm pretty guaranteed to be addicted. Should I be spooked that at the exact moment I wrote that my mp3 player decided it should play the theme tune to CSI:Miami? But really, I just love both the CSI and Law & Order franchises. And of course there's Criminal Minds, which makes me want to be able to profile people. Can't forget NCIS of course. Then there's Numb3rs, which makes me want to actually understand math, beyond 1+1=2, which is currently my limit. Sometimes I stretch to trying to remember my times tables, but only on a good day.
Also on my Sky Planner are The Listener, The Mentalist, Without A Trace, Mistresses - which by the way, when the last episode ended I actually called out "No, don't end now, don't leave me this way!" Damn Cliffhangers.

I look back and think of how I adored Northern Exposure when I was growing up, in fact I still do. And, Rob Morrow looks just as bloody gorgeous in Numb3rs as he did in Northern Exposure. Which can't be fair.
If you have never seen it, I hugely, enormously recommend The Secret Life of Us. I love each and every character in that series and felt like I knew each and every one of them, more than that, I wanted to live with them and be their friend!

I can't wait for the new season of Dexter!
Are they doing another season of Smith? I need to know... maybe it's IMDB time!
Oh and I need to see more of Las Vegas too - I like that a lot!
Maybe I need help for my addiction... or once again, more hours in the day?
There's a new show coming to Living - The Eleventh Hour, I suspect it's going to drag me in too. I seem to be powerless to resist.
I'm not entirely sure that it's a good thing I have a wealth of unseen TV boxsets on my lovefilm list too. Bones is waiting for me, along with Firefly, Californication, Deadwood, Homicide - Life On The Street (which I remember really liking many years back), JAG, Murder One, The Shield, The Sopranos, The West Wing (yeah, I'm behind the times) and The Wire.
I do have an addiction. Oh well, it's a good one, theoretically I can ride an exercise bike whilst watching, so essentially it's good for me. Maybe.

Miscellanea

I have to note two things.
Well maybe three.
The first is that it's only just gone 9.30am and I have already had two achievements.
I'm a high achiever. For today only.
Anyway, I went for a blood test this morning and you know what the nurse got that vein first time. First time I tell you! That never happens!
Normal events are like this:
"Sharp scratch coming up, oh no, I didn't get it/the veins collapsed/I'm sure I felt it, etc, etc, etc"
Repeat 4 - 5 times per arm.
Then attempt back of the hand.
Then send to County Hospital to let the phlebotomists there have at me.
See 1 or 2 or 3 (occasionally more) phlebotomists who attempt to take blood.
At this point I think they start to believe I am some kind of scientific miracle that exists without blood. (If only I didn't have so many injuries to disprove that theory!)
The worst, worst, worst place for a blood test - the inside wrist. Horrible.
Anyway, first bloody time! I'm so happy.

So happy in fact that I came home and the second thing was achieved.
I went up a ladder.
Nothing major I know, I mean people are up and down ladders every day!
It's just that since the time I went up a ladder and came back down without using the rungs, I have been a little afraid of them.
I did break into a cold sweat it's true, but I did it.
Check. Me. Out.

Word to the wise. Always use the rungs. Don't land on the ladder after it slips and leaves you to fall from the attic. That shit hurts. And breaks your ribs. I got a totally awesome ladder-shaped bruise though!

~

I have some things on my mind as well. Not important things, but maybe if I share them they'll stop going round in my overstuffed mind.

Mascara adverts. Somewhere in fine print during the ads are the words "Filmed with lash inserts and enhanced in post production". What? Why? Is your mascara so terrible that the product on its own is not worth seeing?
This bugs me. I mean I can't be enhanced in post production. Oh, I wish.....
But seriously. I don't have time for lash inserts, I want mascara that doesn't need lash inserts damn it.

I bought some drawing pins the other day, when I got them home I noticed that the back of the packet had this note:

Apologies for the terrible photo, but really, now we're being told drawing pins have sharp points? How idiotic as a society have we become that we need to have this spelled out to us? I'm only surprised some of those words have more than one syllable.

Yesterday I logged on to AOL and was greeted with the headline "Wildcat strikes set to increase".
I thought it was referring to incidents like this but was disappointed to discover it actually meant this. Which is not nearly as exciting.
I mean it's serious and all, but it's just not as exciting.

Lastly, I wanted to illustrate why so many think I am a picture of elegance and grace.
Mum & Tim were packing up ready to leave their house in the village and as I had a sudden unexpected free day I went to help. I found a number of small poles and I thought it would be a good idea to keep them all together so found some elastic bands which I placed round my wrist as I gathered the poles in my hand. Now, these were quite large poles and I could only just hang onto them, being small of hand. I carefully held them with one hand whilst (cleverly) slipping the bands from the wrist over the poles, in what was designed to be one fluid motion.
Except I had the poles a little too close to my face.
And gathered a good portion of my hair into the elastic band, thus joining the poles to my wrist, hand and hair.
Oh yes, this is no simple skill.
I'll have you know, in my time of need, Tim laughed from the back of the trailer.

Wait, this is the last thing. I've started chitting my seed potatoes.
Oh yes, check me out, I know the lingo and everything.

Growing & Walking

I decided that it was finally time to address the chaos that is my garage yesterday and also the chaos that is my garden. I plainly woke up feeling industrious and it had nothing to do with finishing the book I so deeply love. (Well maybe I was avoiding finishing it just a little, I couldn't bear for it to be over.)
Anyway, as I flailed with a trowel on my hands and knees a neighbour sauntered past and asked if I was getting some early veg in.
No, some late bulbs.
He then asked if I'd heard about the allotments they were creating in my village.
No I bloody hadn't! Ten half plots!
Is it weird that I am unnaturally excited by this?
I'm ringing first thing in the morning to get my name down for one of those wee plots so please, pretty please all keep your fingers crossed!

Also, last week I became aware of this awesome website: landshare.
What a brilliant idea. If you own a good plot of land, let someone grow veg on it and the rental for which will be produce. If you don't have any land, put your name down to please borrow some of someone elses.

If I'm not able to get one of the plots in the village and my landlord is iffy about my digging up some of my lawn then this is the perfect solution!

Anyway, on another note, my friend Rachael and I went out for a walk today. We joined up with the Young Ramblers for what, Rachael assured me, was going to be an amble. After the first few hundred metres I knew I was in trouble. I simply couldn't keep up to their pace.
I'm only a scratch over 5 feet and have particularly stumpy legs.
It was also incredibly wet and muddy. By the end of the walk the mud was literally to my knees. Partly due to the sudden immersion of my left leg in a mud patch that was much deeper than it appeared. That mud patch also had ideas about my boot and tried desperately to wrench it from my foot. But it was foiled, not only had I laced my boots so tight that my toes felt a little numb, it was also impossible to remove - which by the way, was much less funny when I actually wanted to remove them when I got home.
And which meant I also had to drop my jeans in my conservatory.
Which is immediately next to the footpath. And road.
Quite how I managed not to indecently flash anyone is the product of pure luck. Their luck, not mine.
Anyway, I jump ahead.
I'm stumpy and squat as we've mentioned, I am not built for speed, I'm just not. The combination of big boobs and stumpy legs just doesn't equate to an aerodynamic shape.
As evidenced the last time I ran for a bus. Which is still mentioned. Despite the fact that my boyfriend at the time has been happily married to his wife for some years now - which happened after we broke up - just for clarification!
He still mentions my selfless act, as I lay, bleeding (not broken thankfully) and I looked up at him, knowing he would be late for work and said "Go, Leave me here."
Had he actually done that, I'm not entirely sure what I'd have done. He didn't though, he helped me limp my way back to his house as I sniffled.
Anyway, there were a lot of people on that bus that would be happy to testify I am not built for speed. Although I am built for a comfortable landing. Which is lucky really.

Goodness I'm in a world of digression today.
I told Rachael that was my first and last excursion with the young ramblers. I clearly need to be in the OAP group. Which is fine by me. I feel like I'm ageing too fast anyway.

Harriet has started drinking Apple Cider Vinegar as it's said to be good for you, possibly a little anti-ageing, maybe I need to try that too.

Yesterday evening I finally gave in and finished my book: The Pillars of the Earth by Ken Follett. I don't understand how the building of a cathedral can be so completely absorbing. It must be the way he built the characters, you come to care for them or hate them, at times I found myself willing some of them to be killed. When literature can inspire that kind of feeling I think you have a skilled author. I know this is outside his usual realm of writing and I'm pleased he went for it.
I first heard about the book on Oprah and she raved about it so much, she went on to interview Ken Follett and he talked about how he'd wanted to write the book for years but that his publishers weren't really interested.
I can't even begin to explain how awesome this book is. I wanted to do nothing but read it, whilst also wanting it to never end.
At one point in the book he skips a period of years and I felt like I wanted to hear about every mundane thing that happened to those characters in that time.
I found myself completely absorbed by this tale of the Middle Ages, how they behaved, how they ate and drank. It was absolutely fascinating.
I want everyone to read it, because having read it feels like one of the best gifts I ever had.