Loved up and muddy.

At 3am this morning I was reflecting on why the wind-down routine I normally go through every night in order to ensure a few hours decent sleep didn't seem to be working. I think maybe being the sole target of a wet, muddy cat probably had something to do with it. I'd been out last night visiting a relative, WH being currently on his annual skiing trip so I have time to do these things. When I got back around 10.20 it was hammering down in no small way. The grey babies of course were bored stiff and hungry. We're currently undergoing a period when they don't like any cat food at all, not even the regular tried and tested varieties which they will normally scoff without too much bother. Nelson in particular is unusually picky even for him and until and unless the cat food people develop new flavours such as 'Robin' or 'Greenfinch' I have been feeding half rations only so that they are more inclined to eat anything. Having fed them, they turned their noses up at the food and cleared off outside for a run round as the rain had stopped a little and the wind got up. Wind is always an enticing prospect, leaves to chase, the feel of the breeze in the fur and the prospect of other local cats being outside to terrorise too. They might even find some food if they looked hard enough.

Misty returned later to take root on my bed next to my left shoulder. I was reading at the time and finally starting to get drowsy enough to attempt some sleep. Right now I am mid-course a high dose of steroids as a 'test' to see what effect they have on the Psoriatic Arthritis. So far so good, loads of symptoms are going but with the usual unnerving side effects that I always get of sleeping very little, being extremely hot and being permanently hungry. I took off my glasses and shut the book when it hit me, a wet paw at 30 miles an hour across my cheek. Not a savage dig, his claws were sheathed, but like a lightening sort little tap, delicate but with the added frisson of being wet and muddy. It was like a slap on the cheek with a tiny, wet football.
I looked down and he was in full drool, 'I love you Mummy' eyes and making barely audible little mewling sounds to reinforce the message. Misty was in full-on, loved up mode. Unfortunately I knew what was to follow. I stroked his head and turned away to put the book down, the tapping started again. I then stroked him several times more but was telling him I HAD to go to sleep now, it was late enough but of course he wasn't interested. All he wanted was for me to play with him and he started biting the duvet then hoping I would tickle him through it and we could have a real old scrap. He loves all this, the rougher the better but not at 3am. No way. he started jumping over me from side to side and grabbing my hands.
I tried little strokes to calm him down and he got worse. I ignored him and the tapping started up again. Finally he tried his last beguiling move. He walked up along my body and came to sit under my chin on my left hand side. He used to do this as a sick kitten, 6 years ago. He fitted the space then, now he's far too big and ends up slumped across my face rendering me almost unable to breathe. He manoeuvred his head right under my chin and rubbed against my neck, over and over again. He was in 7th heaven and then started to chew his feet, his favourite thing in the whole world. You can always tell when Misty is contented, he rolls on his side, usually up against a person and chews his feet, spreading the toes wide so he can nibble the long, velvety fur between his pads.

I gave up at this point and resumed the book. Half an hour later there was a loud bang outside as something blew down the road in the wind. Curiosity finally got the better of him and he dashed off to go outside through the cat flap and investigate. By that time I was wet, had muddy streaks painted down my face necessitating another wash, and I then put a towel on the bed in case Misty returned and by this time was wide, flipping, awake. I finally drifted off about 4 I think though it could (she says charitably) have been a little earlier.

At 6am the man in the house opposite mine was loading his car with god knows what but it was loud, and shouting to wife at the same time and so I woke with a start. I must have had all of 2 hours sleep. I was then extremely hot and hearing me turn in bed, Nelson appeared. There was noise outside, I was moving, albeit only slightly, so it MUST be breakfast time. He started crying as only Nelson knows how. I got up in despair.

Now I'm exhausted, my eyes want to shut and go to sleep but the oil delivery is on it's way, I have to go shopping and I have several phone calls to make. The greys naturally are fast asleep on their own beds in the kitchen in the sun. I'm going to get a big piece of fish from the supermarket and cook it about 9pm tonight to feed them at 10. Hopefully with a massive meal of their second favourite food inside them they might sleep a few hours downstairs before they start the night shift again.

And please don't anyone tell me to shut the downstairs door so they can't get upstairs and into the bedroom. Last time I did that I couldn't sleep for the noise of 2 cats head butting a door for 2 hours in tandem and when I got up to open it having given in, I found they had wrecked the carpet behind it too.

A chink of light

Two years ago this week my Mother died, the end of 15 hard years of worry and aggravation when I knew that she would rather have had my sister as her main carer than have to make do with me, whom she always regarded as second best. As sister lives on another continent it wasn't to be. After the death came the relief and the calm of a certain knowledge that I was no longer on permanent call-out, albeit 140 miles away, and the luxury of being able to spend whole weeks at home without having to check my messages every 20 minutes and worrying that if I went out anywhere I would have to leave again in a hurry.

The effects, over the final seven to eight years of having to drive to her home in the middle of the night at short notice, go rushing up on a Monday morning because she needed a loaf of bread and she refused to ask anyone else, living in a 'guest room' for 4 weeks whilst hospital visiting a patient who complained the whole time and having almost daily phone calls from carers who were denied entrance, carers who had been shouted at, carers who had been accused of stealing and a doctor who thought I was a waste of space (after all I was ill with Lyme Disease too) can scarcely be over estimated. They took a toll on me that I had hardly noticed until the weight lifted. I took time to recover. I also spent the best part of the following 12 months sorting out her affairs, will, probate etc as I was the only person able to do it. I remember attending a probate interview at court being hardly able to walk. My step-daughter had dropped me off outside as there was no public parking but I then had to wait for her return outside the opposite side of the road in freezing temperatures, barely able to stand. Daughter was stuck in the midday traffic and the whole interview had taken less than 10 minutes and not the 30 I had envisioned.

I didn't expect much relief that first twelve months but I did get a little more than I bargained for. We decided to buy this house and that decision more than anything else has coloured the last twelve months along with WH being diagnosed with depression, the awful result of his appearance as a prosecution witness at a murder trail, a particularly nasty and vindictive customer and his general sadness at the effects of aging.

Today the house project is on its way to being finished. We had planned to have it finished 9 months ago but the downturn in the building trade coupled with the fact that every single outside contractor we have employed has let us down at some stage or other, lead us to decide that outside 'paying' work would come first, WH being in the enviable position, even now, of having so much work offered to him that he can pick and choose at whim. He may as well earn whilst there is still work there to earn from. Other local tradesmen without exception are not so lucky.

This weekend I unpacked the last of the 60-odd boxes which had been stored for up to 2 years in the garage at the other house, a truly momentous occasion. Now all we have remaining in there is stuff that should be in a garage and which can be brought here when this one reverts to it's proper use and stops being the builder's workshop and tool store. We now have just the two bathrooms, a cloakroom and the gardens still to do. The gardens are my job anyway and will occupy me over the summer whilst we are still here.

If we had been able to take our original course (which was get the keys in April 07, build in May to Oct 07 and move-in in Nov 07) we would have had tenants in by now. Instead we didn't get the keys until July 07, started building in November 07, due to planning delays, then lost most of the winter to rain and floods and a bricklayer who only worked 2 days a week at most so we didn't move in until July 08, the time we had planned to be moving out to somewhere warmer than here. Which brings me neatly round to my little chink of light at the end of the tunnel. Greek light, that is.

Last week I booked to go to our beloved Kalamos for the fourth time, this time for almost 3 weeks in May. It will give us a chance to look around again and make some decisions regarding our eventual move. By then the garden here should be well under way and the majority of the inside work completed. WH is seeing a new consultant soon so his depression should be getting some proper treatment too. My project managing duties are now almost over and I have time to spend on other pursuits; at present I am literally getting my office in order, unpacking and sorting the mountain of paperwork brought in haste from the old house. I now have time to read for pleasure again, I had almost stopped for those 2 years as I concentrated on planning applications, orders, insurances and probate. I get time to go off with friends window shopping, garden visiting or even better plant buying. Recently I've been trawing the web for apartments to rent and places to go and visit.

I can finally see that little chink of light and it's getting brighter by the second.

Fuzzy-headed with boots on.

Well this week so far I've been scanned twice, had some blood taken, seen the bones in my hands on-screen looking like join the dots and been radio active. Yes, it's all happening here folks.

Dr Thorough ordered all this lot and the scans originally were a day apart but with some help from the receptionist at our Medical Imaging Dept I managed to get the second one done whilst I was waiting for the isotopes to start working for the first one.

Interesting experience being rendered radio active. One of the many warnings were to ensure no-one else came into contact with my urine for 24 hours. I was amazed they thought they needed to tell people that. Maybe they thought I was some sort of fetishist but well really, how odd, seeing as I am fully capable in that department. I was also to avoid kissing babies, so wouldn't do for politicians then. I had no warnings, however, about the weird, fuzzy head which seemed to come on almost immediately the liquid went in my arm. To kill time whilst it activated, a period of 3 hours, I went to Tescos and did the weekly shop, I forgot half and had to go back last night. Not cheap though, I managed to spend £95 the first time and the stuff I forgot was £32. Frightening for 2 people and 2 cats for one week. But I digress, I was walking round Tescos as though in a trance (hence the purchase of a set of baking tins and some roasting tins too) and I was trying so hard to concentrate that even the till woman seemed to think that I was a druggie or something. Didn't go well either when I chucked a pot of nacho dip straight over the conveyor and onto the floor, cue colleague announcement, "Cleaner to till 4 immediately, customer spillage." No one came.

I returned early to the hospital for a regular bone scan, hips and lower spine. The scans only took 4 minutes. Getting into position for the lower spine was another matter. Lie flat on back, bum pushed towards bed. Place feet 2-3 feet apart. Then turn toes in towards each other, making legs as flat as they will go. At this point some sort of plastic wedge was shoved between my knees to keep my legs still. Finally a thick plastic strap was velcroed over which pushed my toes each side down into the bed. If I couldn't get my legs flat apparently they could then weight them with sandbags. Luckily I was deemed flat enough. Then "Relax, and keep as still as you can for 4 minutes."

10 minutes later I still couldn't get off the bed and my sacro-iliacs were screaming. "Now that wasn't too bad was it? " I muttered something unintelligible and fled to Nuclear Medicine who were by then almost ready for me.

Having been asked at the MRI last week to remove all my clothes and to wear surgical scrubs in order to 'preserve the cleaniless of the examination rooms and equipment', I was expecting to get changed or remove outer clothes at least. The Bone scan required no shoes and the removal of anything containing much metal, underwear OK, biker's leather belts, NOT. The Nuclear scan however required nothing in particular, only removal of my glasses lest the moving bits of the machine damaged them. I was nevertheless still totally unprepared when I had the foot image done to be asked to put my feet, which were STILL INSIDE my walking boots, flat to the table and bend my knees so the soles were flat on the bed. No problem. "This machine can see through boots." Yeah but what about the metal bits? And the dirt?

Lastly, I had a separate scan of my hands and for this I could seen the screen clearly as the image was produced; I was by now sitting with my hands on an imaging table. I asked what the strange scan was in the left-hand of the two screens.

"Oh we're not interested in that, it's just part of your head and arms and your head's all fuzzy." You bet it was by then.

Little things....

Did you see my fish? Unashamedly pinched the idea from velo-gubbed-legs.

I love 'em, reminds me of blue skies, hot sun and clear blue seas. It's only taken me a week to realise though, they're even cooler than I thought.

Did you see what happens if you click on them and feed them? Smart.

Doesn't take much does it??

You saw it first

here.

I'm a published writer! Ages ago, the lovely Bill from Corfu - Life up the Hill asked me if she could print something I'd written here for Nisea, a magazine she writes for in Corfu.

Finally, finally I got to see the result when the actual mag turned up in the post just before Christmas. My first time in print, I was really pleased. Not sure why they thought it was a poem, it was really a bit tongue in cheek, like a list the kids do when they go back to school after the summer but still they liked it, that's the main thing.

Now I've seen this though, I want to do some more. After all Mary Wesley didn't start writing until her 60's and her first novel wasn't published until she was 71, so I've got plenty of time left yet!

Ruling the Roost

We've got some new residents here. Over the last few weeks of this frosty weather I've been feeding the birds in earnest, being able to find the feeders helped certainly but I did make extra effort to scramble over the mud seeing as the birds all looked so hungry. A pair of blackbirds seem to have taken up permanent residence along with a juvenile male, Fatso, who is huge and a thug to boot. A pair of pied wagtails, Bobby and Betty, are about most of time, also a robin and a wren along with the usual assortment of starlings, sparrows, various tits and my favourites, a small flock (about 8)of long tailed tits.

It's the juvenile blackbird who's in charge though. He stalks the wagtails mercilessly and on occasion won't even let them land. He's always on patrol and flies at anything in his way even pecking at them if he's in that frame of mind. A fight over scrap sausage rolls a couple of days ago made interesting watching. The wagtails sit on the neighbour's roof until Fatso is occupied in another direction and then fly down and pounce quickly before he has a chance to turn round and lunge at them. Misty and Nelson watch from the kitchen window but even they don't go near which I suppose is good news for all the other birds too. Bobby and Betty are plucky too and venture right up to the patio window which make for some good observations. (Graham Catley has good picture of a wagtail on his site this week, go and have a look.)

No sign yet of any of my beloved siskins. Last winter we had 23 in the trees at the rear of the old garden but they were exceptional and normally I don't see any until well into New Year so there is hope yet. Meanwhile Fatso's in charge, with a vengeance!

New Year's Eve

started bright and early here. I didn't get the long lie-in I was after. Two reasons: 1) I woke myself coughing and couldn't stop and 2) I have 24 people coming for eats/drinks/whatever tonight and I now have to go get an MRI scan at noon.

Went for the MRI on Monday evening as previously directed only to find the scanner was BROKEN. I was told I'd wait at least another 3 weeks for a new appointment, but Lo and Behold yesterday they call and say go today. At least I get to finally start the PA (psoriatic arthritis) treatment after this.

My New Year's Eve 'At Home', (don't call it a party as WH hates parties) should be renamed 'gathering for those recovering from the bug' as every single person has had it and the phone lines have been hot with people checking that if they come they wouldn't infect anyone. Never have people been so courteous but given the nature of the disgusting germ round here, you wouldn't wish it on your own worst enemy.

So tonight we party and celebrate the back of a year that has been fairly rubbish and not much improvement on the previous one and that not only had a couple of bereavements but a murder trial as well. Hopefully 2009 will be much improved. As of this week the kitchen is all but finished, the driveway and front is too and that only leaves 2 bathrooms, the utility, cloakroom and a back garden to plan. Sounds quite a list but believe you me it's small beer compared with what WH has achieved in the rest of the house.

I'm really looking forward to 2009, it's almost 2 years since I first set foot in this house and I'd really like to be able to relax and enjoy it. I'd like WH to be able to too and rid himself of this awful depression, which I am assured has very little to do with the house but even so it would be a big relief.

So cheers here's to 2009 and a Happy NEW Year.

We wish you a Merry Christmas

A very quick post in here to wish everyone a very Merry Christmas (I will def be right behind you on this one) and a hope 2009 is better for everyone too.

I'll be hoping for peace, love and understanding in my stocking as life with a possible bi-polar depressive is eventful to say the least and extremely stressful too. If I can survive the festive period and catering for seemingly half of Great Britain in what looks like an Afghan Field Kitchen I will will bestow up myself a Lifetime Achievement Award with a box of Hotel Chocolate's finest, won by dint of a relative suddenly informing me she's allergic to chocolate and has been for years so a substitute present had to be brought on p.d.q.

A final word to all you long suffering Better Halves out there, never EVER believe a builder or Worst Half when he says just a couple more days and it will be all done. Christmas dinner, if we ever get to cook any, will be spent in the field kitchen but only after all the guests have managed to scramble over the 6 foot hole outside the front door or battled through a pile of rubble and a utility with no walls. They have been warned.

Cheers. Hic!

An early Christmas present

Those wild boys from Deer Lick Holler have been busy and given us not one but two new freely download-able tracks as a gift for Christmas. Kind of makes up for the fact that they have not toured this autumn, after 8 years solid gigging they did reserve a rest. Barley Scotch aka John Wheeler was supposed to be doing a solo tour of 'songs and standup', a reprise of his appearance at this year's Edinburgh Festival, however the deepening financial crisis and lack of ticket sales have forced him to cancel.

So mosey on down to their 'Tasting Room' and have a listen now. Hey, even download them if you really like them.

It's that sort of week

and it's only Monday.

Last week I had a fatal error on my pc. It lost all my files. Nothing left, zilch, nada, zero. OK most stuff was backed up but not the VAT I had been working on for days. Today I rang my friendly neighbourhood PC Repair Man, actually my boss in a previous life. He couldn't save it either. So that was disaster number one. Moral of the tale back up your stuff daily. I just ordered an external hard drive to do it automatically now.

Number 2 problem is the washing machine has just packed up, sounds like the pump. It stayed full of water so I propped it up on bricks (of which I have a plentiful supply) and drained it out by gravity. Problem 3 occurred putting it all back. I leaned over and heard a distinct crack. A dull pain in my side ever since confirms my suspicions, another broken rib, sixth in 4 years. Ouch.

The washing machine is only 16 months old but in the move I forgot to renew my maintenance cover. I called up to check. What a joke, 'We'll only charge you £150 but this does include a FREE warranty for 12 months.' The whole machine only cost about £240. I called the local parts supplier, 'New pump? Off the shelf for that model, just come and collect it. Price? £14.99. ' So WH will be fitting that then.

Problem 4, not a problem really, more like a whinge, but the floor layers who were due at 2 just turned up now, at 5.15 so now I've got to spend half the evening glued in the living room which has the entire contents of the kitchen in. And WH will be home late; he has to go and pay for his skiing trip. So that will be me putting all the kitchen back at 9pm then. That's if they do lay the floor. Apparently this super high tech underlay we have just might need another type of glue. In which case they'll have to come back. One day in this mess is enough, I don't need any more, let alone the stink of 30 square meters of acrylic glue.

So that's just Monday, I wonder what else this week has in store, the looming MRI on my hands perhaps?

The NHS lets me down again

Two weeks ago I saw a new Rheumatologist, new to me but not new 'in post'. WH had seen this chap once and we were both impressed with his approach, study ALL the notes, ask endless, seemingly unrelated, questions, quick-fire fashion all whilst his brain was processing the information at lightening speed. As it happened, he didn't think WH's problem fit his diagnostic criteria and recent events have confirmed that. I was thus prepared to be dazzled with the speed of a clever doctor's mind working overtime for me and overwhelmed by having to answer and hundred questions at once. I was also apprehensive that he would, like his colleagues dismiss me as another, over worrying 50-something.

Disarmingly he greeted me with a smile and with the words that he had studied my entire medical history and had noticed a large number of random ailments which he thought just might be connected. He said I had previously seen all the Rheumatologists in the district and now maybe I should get some answers. He proceeded to outline my collection of symptoms, starting at age 12 and a problem with my wrist, through sacro-iliac problems following being hit with a hockey ball the following year until he reached recent matters with my hands and feet, via skin rashes, allergies and the myriad investigations of the typical heart-sink patient. He then examined me and again surprised me by seemingly ignoring my hands other than a cursory glance and paying far more attention to my arm (long standing rash) and my feet which he poked and prodded and caused more pain then I have ever had in them and that's saying something. He asked me about cortisone I had had in my hands, shoulders and feet and got me generally confused and reduced to a gibbering wreck as I tried to answer him succinctly and quickly. After all, who can remember the precise date they had an injection in the sole of the foot, the pain, yes, but the month, possibly, the year probably. And so it went on. He told me to get dressed and then shouted from the other room to ask if I had ever had anything wrong with my scalp. I had, I have right now. He rushed back in and stroked all over my head, with a gentle version of an Indian head massage. 'Very extensive' was his only comment.

Returning to the office fully dressed, he appeared to be surfing the internet. I sat and waited. Finally he asked me about my family if anyone had arthritis - all except my mother, or psoriasis - my sister, my cousin. He then delivered his verdict. I have probably had psoriasis most of my life and now have full blown Psoriatic Arthritis. He described in detail symptoms I had which no doctor has ever made much of, the rash I can feel but is invisible, the joints which feel like they will burst, the itch I have had for upwards of 10 years but which will not go away, the sores I had on my head and which lead to long term bullying at school. My miraculous recovery last year was due to 2 things, the eradication of the Lyme bug from my system and the fact that the Lyme treatment is an old fashioned treatment for arthritis. A classic case of killing two birds with one stone, or in this case two illnesses with the same treatment. Which is why the arthritis and psoriasis have returned to fight another day but the Lyme symptoms have not. My previous diagnosis of Rheumatoid Arthritis was similar but he felt only part of the picture.

He wrote me 3 prescriptions there and then and I had 4 x-rays, some blood taken and have to have a full bone scan and a MRI of my hands. 'About the only two tests you don't appear to have had already,' he joked. After the scans I can take some of the heavy duty stuff he has prescribed but for now I have pain killers which work (makes a change) and some weird cream made from chili peppers which magic the pain away in minutes. I have to be careful where I put that stuff though!

He smiled, was gentle and caring. I liked him, I trusted him, even more so when he said he has relatives with the same complaint. His aim is for me to be pain free in the long term and significantly better in a couple of months. After all he said you've seen enough people who had missed it, it's about time I had some treatment.

So once again I have been failed by the NHS and their cost cutting, time saving piece meal approach to patient care. When someone took the trouble to view me holistically and look at all the information instead of a tiny part the answer was staring him in the face and probably had been for 40 years.

Blue is the colour

This is the colour of my new worktop. Looks much better in real life. Already I love it. The kitchen is finally taking shape, all those ideas which have been swirling round in my head for the last 18 months are finally coming to life. The depressed painter has almost done and we now have an alcove the exact colour of the worktop with the painting hanging on it from which the whole room took inspiration. It's a gouache of a Greek courtyard with blue and white walls, some steps and a vibrant fuchsia coloured bougainvillea, against a brilliant blue sky. When the sun shines and the whole room fills with light and warmth you can almost smell the thyme. Even in this extremely cold and frosty weather, this south-facing space fills with sun and is going to be a great place to sit.

Most of the cupboards are now in and on Monday the floor-layers come to finally put down the proper flooring after months of walking about on a mix of wood concrete and offcuts of carpet. After that we get the peninsular units in and then it's on to the last lap, tiling and a few decorative bits and pieces. I do hope it all goes smoothly, we have about ten people coming for Christmas day and I need a proper working kitchen, not the building site I've been living in until now!

Mind the gap

Mind the gap? Yes I flippin' do.

Anyone who is any good at fixing blogger template problems please listen up......

I've got a horrendous gap in my sidebar, don't laugh now please, and it just appeared overnight. And now it won't go away. Whatever. Never. I hate it.

If anyone has any ideas how to fix this I'm all ears. It's driving me nuts and every time I look at it, it makes me more mad. I'm probably just obsessing because there is so much going on around here right now, talk about juggling, I'm juggling everyone else's stuff too and they all ran away and left me with the balls. Or rather no balls at all, I'm stressed right out.

It isn't even Christmas yet, that's the least of my worries thanks to the good old 'net', all my shopping 's been done online, even the food.

So back to the original topic, I know I'm rambling, my brain's turning to spagetti. Any ideas how to get rid of this stupid gap will be extremely welcome.

Thank you.

The smallest ones are the most aggravating

The greys are more settled now. Never having lived anywhere with central hating until now, they have finally realised that the radiators are not going to jump off the wall and chase them, the odd little noises they make usually indicate that they are getting warm and that sitting on a window cill above a warm radiator is treat worth being brave for.

Usually in the day time they are together more often than not and now the weather has turned colder they stay indoors. Last week they were on the sofa and around the living room. This week they are on my bed, the living room having been moved round yet again awaiting the impending delivery of the fireplace.

So here they are, together but apart, as always. Misty at the back has his customary little sly look, as though he is wondering what to do next, watching me taking the photos as Nelson begins to snuggle down for a snooze after a long leisurely wash. Misty is always on the go, nervous as a tick, waiting for the moment to do some damage, play with something or just plain be his annoying self. Nelson has a new peace about him and is calmer now, life after Goggins has altered the dynamic and he revels in not being bullied and in the much larger house to lose himself in.

(Misty Back, Nelson Front)

Not for long though. Misty waits for me to finish the pics then he pounces, biting Nelson's ears and trying to dislodge him from the warm bed. Nelson however is developing a whole new temperament too, he feels more secure now and so for once he gets the better of his smaller, more fiesty brother. A swift smack on the nose has Misty scurrying, beaten, down the stairs and the bang of the cat flap tells us he has gone off in a huff. Looking through the front window I can see he is already out in the road on the trail of the Skankies six houses down. Now those miserable cats he can always beat. This new bold brother of his has finally got his measure and it's all becoming a bit hard to take.

(Misty Front, Nelson Back)

Even as I write the end of this Misty has returned and tried again, the Skankies couldn't have been out to play. Nelson refuses to budge and so the bored little Misty goes into the back room and beats hell out of the growing pile of christmas presents instead.

Happy Holidays

It's Thanksgiving over the pond tomorrow, the official start of the 'Holiday' Season. In honour of this and as an early Christmas present to those of us here, those ever busy Hayseed boys have given us two previously unrecorded tracks as a thank you to all of us for supporting them over 8 long years of continuous gigging.

You can download them and as the man says 'spread them around' from here. Send them to your mates and educate them as to the true nature of Rockgrass. My fave has to be Father Christmas, a revival of an old Kinks track written well before the days of Asbos but as my fellow Hayseed fan Stellalover says, it sums up an Asbo Christmas perfectly. I think it has a touch of the Pogues about it too. It would make a great Christmas single and here they are giving it away for free. Thanks guys.

All planted out

Not my new garden unfortunately, for we are still awaiting the arrival of the ground-workers who have been coming 'next week' since August and even set definite dates and times three times but have variously been rained off or prevented from coming here by having to do remedial work for flash flood emergencies. So yesterday I gave up thinking my garden will ever have top soil and rushed out and bought even more big blue tubs and thus today it was that I planted 200 assorted bulbs into said tubs. Next year I will have flowers in my garden, they just wont be in the ground but in 30-odd varieties of blue frost free planters which are lining up along the patio like rows of little blue soldiers.

The other side of the (half built, brickies were rained off too)steps are serried ranks of herbaceous perennials looking very straggly and died down but which are actually humungous plants which will easily split into 2 or three pieces when they are finally released. These were scooped from my local National Trust garden the last couple of weeks.

I went on the Saturday to go to their annual Craft Fair and made a detour on the way out to check the sale area of the garden shop. Oh my! What delights awaited there. All these perennials, some quite unusual which had been marked down to 50p or £1 from a previous price of between £6 and £8. I hastily grabbed a dozen of the most obvious things to jump up at me and hastened home. I returned the following week with my Best Friend and bought another 16. Total outlay for 28 plants, £22. Result. Amongst these were a small tree, Eucryphia Lucida 'Pink Cloud' £1, a False Lily of the Valley, Maianthemum canadense 50p and a Lobster Claw, Clianthus puniceus 50p. If even one of these grows I'll have had my money's worth. Two hostas £1 each were bigger than some of the ones I have had in pots for 12 months pending this move. The jewel in the crown must be however, this one ,Anemone riparia, a North American native also known as the Tall Anemone.

If she survives, all this garden aggro will have been worth it. Now I just need that top soil to plant her in.

Nice to see you

Been awol awhile. Not my fault exactly but the last few days I've had a horrendous problem with my ISP and finally tracked it down to a problem at my local telephone exchange. This afternoon it was fixed in the good old fashioned way by a man actually going there apparently. I didn't know they did that anymore.

So now I'm back online but not through my AOL software which still continues to give us grief. I asked for my MAC numbers 3 days ago to migrate elsewhere, more a threat than a real commitment. Now today I receive a bargain deal from Sky drop through my letter box, less than a sixth of my current monthly charge and free calls too. Wonder if it is too good to miss?? I might just see after 6 months of hassle with AOL's unreliable service. I thought it was poor in the old house, since the move it's been 10 times worse. 8 years ago it was brilliant, I recommended them to everyone and argued with several. Now I'm beginning to change my mind.

Check out Durty Dan

Kitchen Crazy

After two whole weeks of seeing, breathing, reading and almost eating kitchen designs, diagrams, pc screens, mock-ups, plans and long hours in boring showrooms we finally decided on a kitchen last Wednesday. What is more, they delivered it on Friday. So there it sits in the alcove all wrapped in cerise shrink wrap waiting to be taken out and fitted. I spent almost all of Thursday on the net and the phone ordering appliances. Just the worktops to get now. That will be the easiest, it was the only element that WH and I agreed instantly on, we both fell in love at the same moment, casting out our vow not to have anything too quirky. So the worktops will be blue granite, quite a bright blue. Just have to get on the blower and order them tomorrow, our supplier conveniently having stock check days yesterday and Friday so not able to take orders.

The alcove though will remain an alcove. Because the overall space is large, over 6m square and has some structural features which we had to keep, it was difficult to get a cohesive layout that encompassed the entire area. One side of the room will be the dining area wherein lies said alcove. Having seen what effect the cerise wrap has had on the whole space we're now thinking sideboard. Old fashioned in name, our ideal is anything but. We're thinking something on the lines of the one above but in blue, bright blue. Oooh I want to order it now.

Just another little tune.

I first heard this at a Hayseed Dixie gig in Exeter a few years ago. Not one of theirs but it was being played over the pa before hand, Dave Bennett's choice perhaps?

Anyway have a giggle and try to ignore the pictures, hopefully not representative of what's in my fridge.