sick note

Two poor old girls

It has been a long, hard winter and the blessed anniversary of the long awaited, but somehow still surprising, wedding was a good excuse to get away to an hotel and indulge in big beds and cordon bleu.
Unhappily an evil virus came too, which at least meant I got to make full use of room service and the wide screen gog.
Back muscles are still uptight so I am not in the sunniest of moods, fortunately it is still sunny back here at home, the daffodils are waving energetically on the bank and the Mothers Day flowers delivered on March 14th are still in petal.

This is weird, what do they do to flowers these days. I was all for throwing them away before we left, but RP could not bear to see his triumph so disrespected. When we got back, I crawled in to find them looking more robust than I.
The theme of the anniversary this year was "furniture" google claimed, not at all traditional and not one that can be spontaneous really. We could do with a new couch, as it now obviously belongs to Hattie the Dog but that will have to wait as a diversion on a sadder day.

This is not "furniture" just one of the fishermans huts which we witness slowly disintegrating as the years pass, unlike the flowers........
The quay has recently been spraunced up and dredged so the fishermens' boats are in better fettle. Mostly muscles and lobsters are hunted - however tho I have no idea if that is an erroneous assumption, what are those nets for, they look fairly meaningful, especially if you are a fish.

It wasn't the best break we have had really, as the car broke down on the drive up the coast. Some seal, I think the Paul Whitehouse character said, cheerfully, as he loaded us, and car onto his truck.
Whatever had become unsealed meant the clutch didn't, so we were stuck on this roundabout, half way. As confirmed hedonists we decided onwards was the only direction so PW contacted the Rescue and they made us pay another £70+ before he was allowed to ferry us to hotel.
Fortunately the one garage in the village or in a 20 mile radius did repairs and by the time I could maintain the vertical had us ready to roll home.

a bit medical

Have been knocked off my perch by some form of dreaded Virus.
Today I am dressed for the first time, so maybe tomorrow I will be coherent.
During the many sweaty times of temperature peaks Visions occurred of how to move forward with some of the stalled stitching projects so maybe it will have been worth it, if I can just remember what they were and recover the euphoria of the experience...........

Things seen in trees

The pungent piles of manure [horse and possibly pig] had been distributed over the fields by the muck spreader just before we promenaded by with Hattie the dog. She was delirious with the richness and variety of aroma, we were less impressed.
For a moment there tho we thought that the birds had started nesting. I have clocked the odd blackbird pecking up wisps of dried grass instead of seeds from the feeder lately. However on closer sniff it became obvious that the muck spreader had been flinging its beneficence at the bushes too.
Further along gleamed the evidence of a broken windscreen
Rather attractive


as opposed to this weird conglomeration
which seems to be the fused remains of a pheasant and a rabbit, the back story might make a rather darker chapter then Alice would wish to see.
The final contribution is this rather substantial rock, did it do in the windscreen or the wild life.

I have just finished reading several crime stories on the trot, so my appetite for death and destruction is probably over stimulated. Cormac mcCarthy's No country for old men was excellent, but hardly a barrel of laughs, I daren't even start The Road. Arnaldur Indridason's Voices was engrossing also. I learnt Icelanders eat strange things for Xmas dinner - boiled smoked lamb.....
Now I am reading MRHall The Disappeared, it's that terrorist theme again, even crime writers are in the zeitgiest, or do they just take plots from the news reports does death and destruction follow fashions, am I Carrie Bradshaw....... I note from the Sundays that Jo Nesbo. Sara Paretsky, and Ann Cleve all have new murderers to pursue, I shall have to take up Austin again for some respite.

fantasy figures

Working on the Gossiping Goddesses hardly seems like work, it is straight forward getting on with it. None, or very little, of the angst trying to get a piece designed for the Deeply Rooted exhibition. In fact the only angst is that it is so relaxed that it must be worthless and I am just making exotic Barbies.........
but I am enjoying them, except when I have to be tidy in my stitching.
I have been very careless as to size, but fortunately there are two short arses and two Amazons, so they can chat in pairs. Venus is to have a shell to surf in on and some seaweed as decoration to embellish her nakedness.

Went to see Alice in Underland in 3D last week, daughter and loud friend adored the Cheshire cat, whom I thought was very ordinary so I guess it is always in the imagination of the beholder.
We all lusted over Mr Depp so at least we could agree on something.

scarf

As requested - one curly scarf.
I got Repetitive Strain whatsit in my upper right arm because I was so determined to finish it in 2 evenings.
But it was thick wool and a big fat crochet hook so it grew quickly. This was 4 rows I think,- a one chain row to start. Then 2 or was it 3 rows of doubles and then a final flourish of a row of trebles.

PS I have just checked back in the blog and the first daff was out on 19th February last year. Same daff this year is just about to unfurl - they are all still stubby and mostly not even in bud yet. Obviously they needed scarves some time back

food for thought

It has been a sunny few days, but the wind is still blowing from the NE, so even the horses have balaclavas. Wish I had one.
I crocheted one of those curly scarves where you increase the stitches each row so it twists round and round, so it is thick in velour wool, but there is still my face hanging out getting cold.

Only Hatty the dog and the birds cannot appreciate the drawbacks of having to walk the fields and rivers when the wind is blowing straight off the Urals.
RP has decided to expand his repertoire of warm and nourishing meals so being a man he had to go out and buy new expensive tools.
This was an Hungarian recipe of pork and rice, which was quite nice, but until it is perfected I suggest tumeric will do rather than saffron.............but maybe I should just shut up and be grateful

nests

Smashing sunny day to take Noisy Friend and the 2 dogs for a walk. It is still cold at night, so good excuse for coal fire remains, but we haven't had the radiators on today, so it must be getting warmer.
Neighbours donated their coal, as they have gone over to a woodburning stove for welcoming glow, so RP had to ripple his muscles and wheel barrow it over, which satisfied him mightily.
It is those funny bricklet things looking like little cakes of coal dust that burn down to very soft ash. No feeling of ancient wood at all.

We all went to visit the BirdTable Man and Woman. Their cottage is tiny and today rather brisk as they had not yet lit their roaring fire.
BTM was mucking out his outhouses and BTW was trying to fork up the creeping buttercup.

He makes his birdtables in this shed, the cottage is too small for an extra chip of wood. He says that usually he will work a complete week on each table, and enjoys designing new shapes.
We suggested that Noisy Friend should ask for a Big Ben table as her father was once an MP,the Foreign Secretary no less, it seemed too much to request the Houses of Parliament.

This is their little sunny arbour including the oven that was once in the cottage. There was talk of a BBQ later in the year which might be fun.

The empty phone box just across the lane probably explains why Mr and Mrs BirdTable have finally got a phone at the cottage.
The sun lit up the damp little church too.