DropBy

As I said What a Day'!  When  moved from the house, I cut down so much that I should take, but when I arrived, I just had to pu tthings where they would go, until I found time to work over it all.  So that was today. First of all, I was lying in bed, when a courier came bringing me two skirts and a pair of trousers, which of course I had to try on before breakfast.
Then I set to, and tried to tidy up my small cupboard which holds my blouses, cardigans, and summer jackets.  Took out the jackets and put them with another cupboard where I keep jackets and coats.
Finally sat down and had breakfast.
After that changed the filter in my water jug .
Then I went to our StoreRoom and tried to get rid of immense amount of stuff that my previous owners had left - or her family had, as she had died.  They had left masses of carpet, a  large player/radio etc, huge heavy tins of paint, and under stuff that goes under carpets.  Also masses of tiles that are the left overs from the shower room and kitchen.I found that I had managed to find room to put all my Christmas Tree balls, (far too many for my small room now) and have put them aside for the charity shop
I then had to organise these into bags. so that I put shopping bags in one bin, and paper in another.  We are lucky, in that we only have to take all these things across our rather large garden to large bins, so I managed to get most of it into a shopping trolly and tottered over.
By now it was lunchtime, but after lunch I set too and washed a pullover, and scarves  and I will take the pullover to the charity shop as well.
I have bought myself one of those bags that you can put under the bed, but I will be putting it in the sotre room - it is full of a huge crochet bedcover and all winter clothes.
The floor of the summer things cupboard was chaotic, with shoes, old handbags, and a lot of christmas things, so I tidied it up, puttng them into plastic boxes that I found behind my bed  luckily I had kept some in case I needed them.
Tea time, and Oh dear my back. Took two Ibuprofen with a cup of tea and biscuit.

yesterday i was waiting in for someone to come, and folk never come when you think so i stayed in all day.

i spent my time doing little jobs that you do when someone is coming.  i hoiked out my sewing.  i had made earlier this year a large amount for me,
some knitting squares.  so, i had my mind on getting this done to fill in the time.  i hate waiting for anyone so jobs got done by the dozen.

i sewed a whole line of squares together.  it is a little blanket for the doggies.
my neighbour  a few months back gave me some wool to make some with and i went and got some more to hopefully match.  its not wonderful, but im sure the doggies will find it very comfortable when im finished.

it will either be for lying on or covering up when the weather turns cold again, at nights.  some bright orange, some red and some purple squares look quite regular together.  so, i dragged them out to sew because of the delay.  im not one for sewing, and its a job for when i cant do anything else.

so, having done one line of squares, i then attacked a little much more pleasant job in the kitchen.

i made some pastry and cut up some apples and semi cooked the apples while the pastry was resting in the fridge.

so, i popped the lovely cookers in the pan and added some honey and a few handfuls of sultanas.  it smelled wonderful with the addition of cinnamon.

finally, my visitor having arrived and gone, i set up the pie and decided at the last minute to make turnovers instead.

i wiggled the pastry round the edges having successfully covered them in the round and made the pasty shape.  i squidged the edges and snipped the tops,
and then smothered them in egg wash and a scattering of sugar.

i put them in the oven gas mark 6, i am so pleased to say, as my last oven i could get only 9.

and then i waited impatiently for their arrival as cooked turnovers. and they smelt wonderful coming from the hot interior.

i laid them on the side and even was able not to pick at the pastry as it wafted its aroma under my nose.

i also made a chicken stew.  i got one of those packets of fillets from tescos and used some of the pieces to make my stew and the other to make for lucys supper, which she turned her nose up at.

so, i gave it to the other big dogs as a treat for their supper.  i then got out two little dog meat trays late last night to substitute. and they ate those instead.

the stew was really nice.  i made a nice gravy and it went down very well.
my friend was a bit late in coming so i popped his in the microwave plated up for his arrival for tea.

he had his half of the turnover, which was pretty big, for his pud with a pint of custard.

i put one turnover in the fridge in a box for tonights sweet and the other two in the freezer for another day.  i must say freezers are very handy things, arent they.  its so much fun having a cooker that actually works these days.
cooking in the kitchen, is quite good therapy.

the weather has enabled me to get some washing done and dried, but not quite lasted long enough to dry the doggies stuff for their beds.

yesterday aftenoon i was sitting there having done most jobs, and watching my favourite reruns of cookery programmes, when suddenly the wind lifted and there was an almighty gale of high winds and the trees were swashing around making such a racket.  it quite worried me as i hate seeing large amounts of weather out there.

my friend down in warwickshire had rain with it, but we didnt here.

i wonder where that came from in the middle of may.

i have made some lovely potato and egg salad from leftovers. i got some nice fatfree greek yogurt and mixed with some light mayonnaise, and cut up the potatoes and eggs and stirred them round with oregano. it tastes lovely, and im having that with my picnic today.

sometimes i like to ring the changes from ordinary sandwiches. i shall have some salad with it and a little of the humous i bought. i usually make my own, but i havent got a tin of chickpeas left so i cant.

i pack it in a box and try to remember to include a spoon!

well must go, busy busy today. 

have a nice day y'all.

big hugs.xx

I have been having trouble sending Blogs, but I think I have found out why. So I will start again - as they say.
A friend of mine was telling me that she was down at Waitrose, and a 'nice looking young man' stopped her and asked if she could help him.  He told her that he lived in a flat nearby, but he had lost his keys, and his parents have one but live outside the town.  He wondered, if she had a car or perhaps he could give him the money to buy the bus ticket.  She only had a few coins which she gave him.
Next day she saw him across the road, talking to a couple.  She couldn't hear what he was sayng, but the woman shouted after him 'Try the Salvation Army'.
Another day he was around again, and he was seen talking to an elderly woman with a trolley, and she was just looking in her purse to see what she could give him.
You DO have to take care these days, do you not.

i dont know how you spell it, but its something i used to get on the beach in france.  somehow it seemed such  nice thing to have, lazing around on the sand.

you sit there and someone always comes along selling their from little trays hung around the neck on a strap.

shoo, shoo, a lovely lady says, and there they are.  a little screw of paper filled with little nuts covered in some sort of confection entirely unlike anything ive seen before.  and boy were they tasty. i often long for some but never find any here in little old england.

and beignets a lovely apple doughnut elongated and filled with a lovely concoction of apples just sliced and cooked beautifully.

and .....ice cream.....sigh...sigh a bit harder....

the french pay attention to wonderful cooking and my nose was always stuck to patisserie windows when standing on french soil.

i wish i didnt like food so much, as france is a long way away from me and my house.  the bread is to sigh for.  and although they dont seem to have butter on their bread, it is a luxury, i always had some. the boulangerie, or bread shop contained amazing sights and i always tried some when i went. never staying long enough to try all.

the boucherie, or butchers contained lots of things we dont get here and many things i sigh for there as well.  in belgium in the south, one can get wild boar pate and sausage, another delightful thing to put on ones baguette.

and theres always some strange sounding name to conjure with, a quainquaillerie i think its spelt, its an ironmongers.  quaint aint it.  me being me, i loved the word.

well, whatever, the confiserie, or sweet shops are a palace of delight.
i love the way they makes chocolates, they dont leave a burning taste in ones mouth and throat when having sampled the delights of chocolat!

and the croque monsieur, or open sandwich and the barques, are just to wallow in and cause some wonderful edible memories for ever.

pomme dauphinoise float it in front of my nose, as i did once, and its a favourite forever.

ris, or rice dishes are in their thousands and i cant try all of them, but i love them, and want to collect the set.

i want to go back to france and stand looking in the windows with enough money to sample everything.  if wishes were horses....this little person would be so much happier and probably a lot larger, so its just as well i cant go, but oh i dream of it so many times.

shoo, shoo, my memory chimes and im off day dreaming again.

vive la france...all the way...

i like birthdays, my birthdays were always made with us with a view in mind of having a good time.  as children we were given the choice in the early days of having 6 children as guests.  as my sister and i had birthdays two days apart, we had 12 children in the house for a party.

it would begin with invitations and then turning up time we were dressed in our best, and a pit of stomach excitement .

our mother would make plenty of food with sandwiches, jellies and custard, and a birthday cake, which we would blow out the candles for and make a wish each. 

there were games, it being august, would be had out in the garden if fine, which is usually was.

in the house, we would play pass the parcel and out doors,and i sent a letter to my love.  my eldest sister would play the piano and we would stop every time the music did.  we also had in and out the stalky bluebells, and beanbags games, and musical chairs.

we always had my dad there and he would line us up, bigger girls at the back, and small ones seated at the front, and take photographs.

when we got bigger, parties were passe and we went on outings instead.
london was a big attraction, and we saw the houses of parliament, big ben, the changing of the guard, madame tussauds, and buckingham palace.  they didnt charge such a scandalous amount to go in anywhere then.

london was beginning to repair its war damage by then and we were no longer able to see the bomb damaged areas, with see through houses and toilets hangings off walls and curtains blowing at empty floorless rooms.

and by then my aunt in london had parted company wih her chimpanzee and acquired a large alsation.

by then we had bought our first family car, a morris twelve and glided through london like royalty.  well we thought so anyway.    mind, dad, youve got your indicator sticking out, thank you girls, and it would disappear slowly back into its casing outside the car.

later birthdays, much later, were taken with my exhusband, at dining out places, and a few times, in france.

these days, my sister, and i still share our birthdays together.  only this time we choose the venue.  she comes to derby train station, where we pick her up from the train and take her back to the house.

on the days she stays we take her out for a picnic, she sits in front pride of place in the car, and i sit in the back of the car with the doggies.

we have our lunch at a reservoir, and two or three years ago, i paid for a trip on the rutland belle ferry boat, which does the lake tour and then back, taking an hour, which was very pleasurable, especially rubbing shoulders with my beloved sister for a few hours.

sometimes we have her over for my friends birthday and go out for a carvery, which isnt too far away at five miles.  this is in july, and still fairly good weather for these days.

parties are just a threesome, and we have breakfast, clear away, and sit whilst we have parcel opening.  paper slides to the floor, and the usual oohs and aahs go on, till all presents are exposed, and the recipient party relaxes over a cuppa, examining and feeling pleased.

this year, she is coming for my birthday, so i have a carveryin mind again.
this has become a standard choice as we can sit and natter for quite a while, till we all get stiff and want some fresh air and a little walk.

my doggies love my sister coming as much as i do.  they give her a rapturous welcome, as she is as good with animals as i am.  and thats saying something.

i love birthdays, almost as much as christmas.  at christmas i know other folks are opening parcels up and down the country like i am, and having a lovely time, just like me, which doubles my pleasure.

these days i dont play games of course, but it still pleases me to have a birthday.  i remember all those days we had as youngsters and the trouble my mother and father went to to make them pleasing.

no more bean bags, but plenty of sisterly love instead.  and thats just great.
sharing is a treat between us, as we dont see one another very much.  she phones me twice a week, but the miles inbetween are a difficulty.

so, that makes a birthday a real birthday when she comes and we can hug.  thats the best present.

happy birthday to and all out there, whose birthday it is today. have a great day. xx and a virtual hug.


 

teeth are funny things arent they, but a vital part of the package that goes to make up being human. 

my mother during her pregnancies way back in the dim distant mists of time, before the national health, had to have all hers removed.  her calcium content went awry and they all crumbled, hence the untimely  departure of her pearlies.    her future gnashings were done with plates, kept on the bathroom shelf at night.

this is a pity for her fine features sunk in over the years and made that strange look when she was without them of an old crone.  but with them in she still looked absolutely fair.

my fathers teeth suffered during the war when water was at a premium or not at all on the front line in the desert, tooth brushing was the last thing he considered. consequently, in his latter years, they became stalks and very yellowed.  he also had some removed and would jiggle his plate at us for amusement when we were young.  do it again daddy, we would say, and he would very willingly oblige!

i was guilty of not brushing my teeth sometimes, but as i got older i got wiser and  brushed at least once a day. i began to feel that mine would go the same way as my fathers if i wasnt careful. 

a jingle pops up in my head 'brush away, brush away, brush away, the SR way'.  some years ago someone made up that ditty and it has stuck with me ever since.  reach for the tap with a toothbrush loaded with paste of the defurring kind and it spurts through making me smile at myself.

brush away....so i do.  it gets even more urgent the older you get with so much more use.

i remember also, one of the poems that made pam ayres famouse 'i wish id looked after me teeth'.   this poem goads me on each and every time i get up every day, i stretch my lips into what looks like a snarl in the mirror, and survey my ivories and the pink rubber surrounding them.  no, ok for today, and a small voice within echoes, ahhh.....

my dentist suggested i get some floss and those little brushes that look as though they are for pixies sinks.  some are quite fancy and others quite ordinary.  i have a few of each, but you know what, even though they are expensive, i regard them as an insurance against not having my little old pearlies.  i wouldnt want to see my pegs soaking in water over night.  i have a horror of that, so i strive to do my duty every day, and i even feel guilty if i dont.

it is amazing though isnt it, that however you  try, pork always remains with you long after youve had a meal and it wont be removed politely until you have dashed into the nearest bathroom and locked the door, to relieve your feelings and the dreadful bit that wont go away without a struggle.

i remember once smiling at some handsome face when i was young and not so dusty, thinking oh, he smiled at me.  when i got to a mirror the reason was obvious , my dinner was sticking through three of my front teeth.  and my broad smile only made my situation worse!!!

why doesnt anybody tell you, i want to know?!!!

my father-in-law many decades ago, when i was married, had had his teeth knocked out when he fell from the top of a lorry, where he was roping and sheeting.  he came crashing down to the ground, where he fell on his face and broke both his arms.  he was carted off to carmarthen hospital, where they mended his arms, but his teeth they couldnt save.  he had a false set made.

he spent years with them riding around in his pocket, to come out when he was courting, but he ate everything without usually.  i admired him when we took him out for a steak.  you wouldnt know he only had his gums to mince his way through his rumpsteak, but he finished before me.  they must have been honed to a fine blade over the years. 

with the passage of time, i have maintained a reasonable pair of gnashers.
i did have a problem  four years ago having chemo, it made my gums swell up and my double back tooth fell out, but as it isnt instantly observable, i dont mind so much. it was a small price to pay for regaining my feet.

i scrub away daily these days with a slight touch of feverishness about it, trying to defeat advancing years.  my dentist is quite pleased, and each time i go home relieved with his praise ringing in my ears, but its something i cant afford to lapse about, so back to fervid scrubbing daily without fail.

care is needed these days when contemplating well cooked meat, but generally speaking i still enjoy a nice cream cake, as long i hurry home to the bathroom and waggle my toothbrush afterwards.

i used to use sensodyne as recommended by my father and most dentists, but the strange thing is that it made my gums bleed and his too.

i went back to using ordinary ones.  tout suite.  and i finish up my meal of toothpaste with afters of a mouthwash, which when my vision clears of the tears it makes, i know my teeth are smiling fine.

i watched the monty python holy grail film once, where the black knight has been injured by the white one and he shouts out, come back, i can still bite you.

well, so can i!!!

i tell you what, shall we have a champion chewing contest.  i probably wont win, but we might enjoy it.  i have a plate of cakes here to say we wont!!!
washed down with a pot of tea. anyone game?

many years ago when i could still swing the legs over a fifteen mile  saunter, i would walk over the elan and rhayader dams and  the black mountains occasionally.

i loved seeing the world from the top of the hills.  doesnt it make you feel good to survey such a majestic panorama, with oneself wrapped up in a good anorak and jeans, scarf well tucked in round the throat and the regulation bobble hat perched on top covering ones ears from the thunderous wind atop these lofty peaks.

i walked everywhere then, fit as a fiddle and observed the world snails pace, and saw the snails themselves going for a walk too.  i always beat them as my legs were longer, but i didnt forget to say good morning.

camping on top of the black mountains was a thrill in itself.  the sheep would come from miles around to stick their heads in the tent and bleeeeaaaahhhh
at us.  getting up, stoking the primus at five in the morning with the sun pushing the night away over the horizon, beginning the day with a fresh breeze like a cold wet flannel across ones face, wiped the sleep away and one shivered with the cold and pleasure to come.

the day warmed up and breakfast followed the first brew on the primus.
bacon and egg with another cuppa in the old tin mug.  absolutely nothing would buy a morning started like this.  one felt as rich as croesus.

the one thing that kept me walking was my lovely boots.  i had been taken to the local camping outfitters in hereford, jessons, no longer there, im afraid,
and i sat in the boot department, to buy my christmas present.

the man came and went offering each different right boot for my inspection.  i sat and waited with my shoeless right foot dangling from the too high chair.

at last he came, he had the usual fed up expression that my shoe salesmen or women usually wear when serving me.  i spied this wonderful deep red
walking boot in his hand and sat and waited whilst he assisted me on with it.

it was beautiful.  it fitted comfortably and looked wonderful.  i tried it on with the usual thick sock. 

my first comment to the salesman was  'its beautful, ill have these'
 he replied, how can you say its beautiful'.

beauty is in the eye of the beholder i said dreamily, surveying my new christmas present with such happiness.

he couldnt understand, to him a boot was a boot was a boot.

but to me, they cushioned my step, i floated on air.  they laced up perfectly round my broken ankle, [why i choose to try right shoes on] and with the thick socks i purchased with them, i knew we were going to have many happy miles together.

oh, i wore those boots for ten years.  sadly they, like all things material, suffered such a battering, despite my care, i had to  buy some more, but i think back with fond memories of those first lovely boots.

we went through streams, up mountainsides, down dales, across hillsides,
and i slept in them too when the need arose.  they were second nature to me
and i miss them even now.  you always know when you have a perfect boot, and one is always allowed one, once in ones life.  and i had mine.

beauty is in the eye of the beholder and also on the foot.  socked up, and well booted, i would walk anywhere given the drop of a primus pricker, and off i would go.

can someone please tell me where i left that spring in my step?  i mislaid it somewhere along the way and i would much like it back. 

i woke to a lot of loud curses this morning.  it took me second to realise they were coming from me.

i have my usual style of waking from which i never deviate.  well i did this morning.

every other morning, i swim in the dark pools of sleep,  gradually gaining consciousness with a sweet smile and a sleepy afterglow.

its always the same when ive had a deep good sleep that washes yesterday away and i begin again a new creature for the day.

but this morning.  baaaaaaahhhhhh.....[and deleted cross words] aaaaggghhhh ......i sat straight up without any nod to formalities of previous days and tried to get my foot untwisted from its unfamiliar contortion.

my right foot had somehow become twisted round to the back and it took a good deal of swearing and cossetting to return it to normal.  that was when the other foot decided to surprise me with cramp in it.

i had to hobble round like a hen on a halter to get it back to normal.

what a start to the day.  its always the same when the weather changes to a warmth that denotes the coming of better weather.  just like a little before that i start getting painful sparks from my clothing and anything metal.

sometimes my doggies get a spark jump across the gap and it hits their wet little noses and they are not pleased.  me neither.

the reverse happens in the close of the year.  i start with getting sparks from everything and then end up with cramps.

can anyone give me a remedy?

watching the snooker on the tv last night, put me in mind of when i first met my friend with the rockband.

we had gone over to southern ireland for a little holiday. on the cheap of course, we didnt have much shekels between us.  the national bus company serves to makes these things cheaper.

we went down to the local hostelry the first evening from where we were staying with friends.  it was a quiet country pub as you would expect, we were staying in the deepest heart of tralee, county kerry.

my friend set up the table for pool.  there are different rules everywhere for pool, but we took our english rules with us.

he went off to order the drinks, and affable fellow that he was, stayed to chaff the barman.  i could hear the laughter.

i had orders to begin the game and set about doing so.    by the time he came back a few minutes later, i had potted every ball on the table.

i cant ever forget the look of astonishment and annoyance on his face as he
surveyed the result.

he exclaimed, i thought you didnt know how to play.  i dont, i replied but i played snooker for years.

so, no more mr. nice guy he said.  and laying down his drink set up the game again.

and we had some rattling good games that night, with him not allowing for the fact that i was 'just a woman'.

and i went on to win many games there, and a great many other places.

we lived in downtown birmingham for a while.  nightly visits to the table
were greeted with 'here comes the hustler' for me, as i took my own cue.

i had a splendid time.  some of the guys i played with had that same look of ill let her win, and to their chagrin i did.

one night i had a rip roaring game with a man whose wife was standing on the bylines.  no matter what he did, i played better and kept snookering.  then he did a nasty snooker to me.

his wife said, you shouldnt have done that, he replied tetchily, well she annoyed me.  i smiled and we had a smashing game then and subsequent times.

another night i played against someone who quite frightened me.  he was a bouncer in some really seedy places and knew folk you wouldnt wanna know.

we had seven games and i seven balled him on each game.  he gave me such a look and i went about after that thinking id get sucked down a side alley and my knee caps altered.

he disappeared for a fortnight.  he came back and i said 'where you been'.  he said ive been practising pool so i can beat you.  and we had some wonderful games and although he lost most, he smiled at me, and i went home a little relieved.

when i moved to scotland i used to play pool with the shrimp fishermen.
each night when i went in, there was the half crown or whatever slapped down in the corner.  were gonna beat ye tonight, they would say.

oh yeah.  i wiped the floor with them all the time.  i think they were glad when i moved!!!

these little treasures serve to remind me of my friend and provides an adequate  epitaph for him.

i dont play any more but as i never win at anything, i remember winning at pool with great pride and enjoyment.  i loved playing and remember one night my team won the seven league tournament and there was such a noise, like a football crowd it was so hard fought.  my team member picked me up and swung me round, no mean feat.  but he was quite strong and didnt suffer with any internal injuries afterwards.

so, i was sat there last night with my friend and he got quite annoyed as i was making comments all the time on their performance, which was pretty poor.
the one went on to win,  but i was very disappointed at the quality of his game.

oh well, these days im not fit enough for a walk round the table, so im pretty well snookered.  but next time ill bring me zimmer frame. im game if you are!!!

i was sitting in my living room yesterday wondering how low i have sunk in the doggy world.  from alpha leader to hand maiden!!!

lucy having succumbed to something awful earlier this year, and having climbed back up to the living place again, is perhaps getting too big for her boots!

i am now reduced to chopping up her bought-for-only-lucy-chicken, and hand feeding her at all mealtimes.

she pokes her head round the door of the sitting room, looks down into the kitchen, and when she sees me with her bowl in my hand, scurries back through to the bed in the living room and sits there waiting.

i am forced, if i am not to starve her constantly, to come and sit down and supervise her meals.

i sit and pick a choice succulent piece of carefully chopped up small sized chicken from her bowl, and put it to her nose.  she then sniffs disdainfully, and turns her head away.  i keep pushing the chicken and she will then take it in her mouth, and turning away, spits it as far as she can onto the floor.

eventually, she gets the idea to sample some.  then its all systems go and i repeat the chicken pushing it into that staffy smile, till theres none left in her dish.

i also have my other doggies and they look reproachfully at me faced with dog food in their bowls.

having rode by that gauntlet of stares, with their bowls empty i give them a biscuit or a little markie, a doggy type biscuit for their pudding.

then i turn round and deal with reggie.

reggie has always been picky and now hes 17, relatively old, and lacking some front teeth, with two cancers in the left side of his mouth.  so, im down to finding things he can eat.

its the horns of a dilemma again.  he is perky, has great quality of life but they wont operate on him to remove the cancer because they dont think hed make it heartwise.

he loves his walks, being with me is his prime objective in life, and loves his food.  but, and theres the big but, the cancer is stopping him from grasping the food with his front barely there teeth.

so, off i go again with struggling for more ideas to feed said reggie. 

so, last night i hit on getting some mince meat and cooking that.  this morning will be the first trial and im waiting to see how it works.

i worked on this dog with very little brain and a mass of neuroses for about three years, turned him round from biting everyone to the lovely little fella he is now.  i am bounden to take trouble when he needs it to keep him going whilst he can.

he is not perfect but hes been through so much bad things in his little life, he needs to have some happiness now.

im not sure if im running a canine convalescent home or what. 

its my fault, i opened my doors wide, years ago to all comers on all fours, and there they are.  what remains of my eleven little tykes.

four little faces all turn my way when i have my dinner plate to hand.  four little faces turn my way when i open the biscuit box.  four little faces wait for me to make their lives happy.

to be truthful, i dont mind, they are such lovely little chaps and chappesses.
and they return my patience with a wag of the tail when i pat and stroke them and clear up after them.

i told them i am writing about them, and they send you all a big sloppy lick and a big woof. 

shall i say you send your love?!!!