Better to have loved......

It’s 17 years since Dad died, and as he and Mum are always in my heart, I thought I’d banished that deep, searing pain of grief.  But tonight proved me very wrong.  I was sitting contentedly by the fire when we switched on the TV a few minutes early for our intended viewing.  We caught the end of Gardeners’ World featuring an amazing display of dahlias in an enthusiast’s garden.  Mum and Dad loved dahlias and the sight of this glorious collection caused such an unexpected physical sense of loss, I was left breathless.   Requiescat in pace Mum and Dad

More pyrotechnics

Our log stove is a “roaring” success.  We’ve lit it several times over the weekend and have been thrilled with its performance.  Within minutes of lighting we’ve had a glorious burn with flames dancing seductively behind the glass.  They’re hypnotic to watch and can hold me captivated for hours.  So far there has been very little ash as the wood has been totally reduced to fine powder, forming a fire bed. As it’s August we’ve only burnt a couple of logs each evening but the heat output has been more than enough to chase away the dampness of the dusk

Dog Shaming

The Dog Shaming website seems to have taken the internet by storm.  The hilarious site  is based on a simple idea; owners post a photo of their naughty pet (It’s funny and NOT degrading to dogs, Uncle Sam) with a card detailing what evil antics they’ve been up to. Maybe it’s because we’re life-long dog owners we can firmly identify with those cards that cite widdling and puking in unfortunate places, shoe eating and furniture chewing as shameful behaviour!  We’ve laughed out loud at some of the adorable “shaming” photos of much loved pets and think we’ve got off lightly!

Nature in the raw

Did you know that weasels are weasily wecognised because stoats are stoatally different? 

The reason for this dip into “Dad’s old jokes catalogue circa 1968”? Well, Mr Glis and I were driving to visit Grandma when we witnessed a life and death struggle as a stoat dragged a huge rabbit across the road in front of us.  We knew it was a stoat as it had a black tip at the end of its tail, one of the main characteristics, along with a white coat in winter, that differentiates them from the smaller weasel.  It was nature in the raw.

Miss Molly

Miss Molly has kennel cough.  That she hasn’t been anywhere near a kennel is irrelevant as it is highly contagious and apparently she could have picked it up from a dog she met on a walk.  On Wednesday morning she began coughing and “womitin” white foam so  I did a little bit of googling and concluded that it was kennel cough.  The vet confirmed the diagnosis that evening and she’s now on antibiotics.  Her coughing has more or less stopped now but she’s been less keen to run ahead on her walks so it’s obviously taken its toll on her

Parade's End

There’s something compelling Benedict Cumberbatch, especially in a costume drama.  I found myself strangely moved at the sight of him nursing his screen-son in the recent showing of Parade’s End.  He portrayed the role of decent, honourable Christopher Tietjens in such a sympathetic and moving way that I think most women, not only Valentine Wannop, must have fallen a little in love with him!. On a related note, when I asked Nerea if she thought I would have been a Suffragette, she turned with such a look of incredulity and said “It goes without saying”, I was enormously flattered!

Fire!

Let the pyrotechnics begin.  Our log stove is now in place and we’re thrilled with the  fabulous job Crown Stoves have done over the last 3 days.  Our ceremonial lighting went like clockwork  (although we had to have the backdoor and living room window wide open) with a quick burn and some great flame patterns from only a couple of logs hewn from our former fire surround.  I truly love a “real” fire and have really missed not having one in this house.  In a perverse way, I’m actually looking forward to the winter evenings.  Now where’s the toasting fork?

Keep the Home Fires Burning

Such excitement!!  At last, our new log burning stove is going to be fitted on Wednesday.  For  one with pyro-maniacal tendencies, it wasn’t hard  to reach a decision that our living room needed more than background central heating to feel truly cosy.  Mr and Miss Glis were easily persuaded too, as they have a shared, secret love of fire browned toast and marmite. Yes, there’ll be more dust but who cannot fail to be enchanted by dancing, mesmerising flames?  And as the stove is Defra eco-approved, we can also feel very smug as we watch, captivated, during the winter evenings

Time to draw breath...

Olympic fever well and truly gripped our house for the duration of the games so it’s as well that there’s an intermission before the Paralympics. We’ve been on such a roller coaster of sporting emotion that we’re left feeling as if we need to recharge our batteries in order to cope with the next round!  As one who would never describe myself as a “sports fan”, I’ve surprised myself at how much I’ve enjoyed the spectacle. London did a great job hosting the games and that TEAM GB brought home some stunning medal performances was the icing on the cake

Catholic taste?

Despite having a Kindle with a light for reading in the “wee, small hours”, I can’t seem to forgo the tactile comfort that a “book at bedtime” brings. But, I have a shameful habit of reading in bed and then leaving the book on the bedside cabinet rather than replacing it neatly on the bookshelf. With library book “return or renew” date looming, I decided to tidy up and was horrified at the scale of the collection (and dust) that had built up over the past few months.  At best, I think I can be described as having catholic taste!

Those were the days...

On another nostalgic note, I’ve been ratching in the photo box. (I must endeavour to fulfil my good intentions to scrap book them). Reflecting on my pudding bowl hair style of the 70s, I really can’t believe that my mother positively encouraged such a hideous, Cromwellian look. Maybe it’s the resultant emotional scarring that’s enabled me to relax and allow Miss Glis to develop her own (moderately) glamorous style.  I’ve had great fun this afternoon selecting some of the most horrific specimens for scanning into the computer. They’ve certainly given my friends and me something to snork over on Facebook.

Bee Gee Fever

My knee is still giving me limited mobility so I’ve been abandoned for the day by Mr and Miss Glis who had other important things to attend to.  A day alone is a rare opportunity to do the things I never usually have time for (and no, I don’t include housework on that list, EVER) so I’m having a lovely day reading a murder mystery and wallowing in songs from my youth.  I have played most of the Bee Gees back catalogue and remembered, not for the first time, JUST how talented those guys were, creating some truly fantastic music

I have a sporting injury too!

Andy drove me into work this morning as last night, my knee swelled up like a balloon. I’d felt a twinge on Saturday when I was walking with Molly above Eskdalemuir but ignored it.  I hobbled so painfully to my desk I decided to get a Drs appointment this afternoon thinking it might be “Housemaids knee” (Stop sniggering in the back.  I occasionally do some housework!) but the verdict is...an x-ray.  The Doc thinks it might be a re-occurrence of an old cartilage injury but wants to rule out arthritis and /or a floating body before I have an MRI.  

Olympic Emotion!

I’m emotionally exhausted.  And that’s just listening to The Archers! Go Ian! Tell “M’Adam” what a numpty he is.

But seriously, after 6 Olympic gold medals yesterday I went to bed feeling utterly drained after being on my feet screaming for Jessica,Greg and Mo!.  It’s not often that I get so involved in spectator sport as I prefer outdoor pursuits to any organised sporting activity  but I‘ve been completely caught up in the Olympic fever that’s sweeping the nation.  I’ve loved the cycling and rowing and last night’s introduction to the track and field far surpassed all my expectations.

Rambling round Reading

An expensive evening in the pub with colleagues or a roam round the roads of Reading in search of a cache? No contest! 

There's something very satisfying about discovering a town through caching so fuelled only by a delicious pistachio ice-cream, I allowed my rambling to lead me to unexpected, secret locations, affording opportunities to admire the town’s eclectic architecture and discovering hidden gems that we don't usually see as we scurry along with our noses to the ground. And as a biscuit lover from Carlisle, home of McVities, how could I resist a trail that included a sweetmeal tribute?

No Damascene moment at the Madejski

I’ve never worshipped at the altar of football  so when many of my colleagues came over all un-necessary on hearing of a meeting at the Madejski Stadium, I reserved judgement. Perhaps entering a hallowed place would prove to be a Damascene moment?   As our meeting room over looked the empty ground, I took a moment to embrace my surroundings.  I detected nothing but emptiness. There was no sense of awe.  I failed to hear the crowds, absorb any triumph and despair or detect the pride which surely lingers in the fabric of the arena.  Clearly, football karma has by-passed me

Work place achievemnts

It’s bizarre, but one of my most satisfying achievements at work is when my colleagues eat all my home made cake. Any occasion, however minor, merits a baking session so I’ve inflicted many a different concoction on my long suffering colleagues over the years.  And they’re a discerning, critical lot so I “welcome” their feedback with trepidation. And although I regularly write papers on a multitude of topics, provide briefing, deliver presentations and deal with all sorts of challenging and rewarding management situations in the office and elsewhere, nothing quite uplifts my spirits like the sight of an empty plate.

The Winged Chariot of Time

I used to roll my eyes when mum spoke about “time flying” and believing I was immortal, as only the young do, never thought I’d echo her thoughts.  But today, on my wedding anniversary, as I was reflecting  over the past 27 years of my marriage, unbelievably I began to see that winged chariot of time  approaching, although the sunlight of laughter and love seems  to have diminished the image a little; after all, I’m only 29 in my head! But as I’ve been truly blessed in my life with Andy and Nerea, what other image would I really want?