A much loved child has many names

I recently overheard some parents deliberating pompously on how to prevent their children being nicknamed. I was instantly transported to my childhood kitchen where Mum was cooking while proclaiming that “a much loved child has many names”.  I’ve no idea what initiated the conversation or indeed how Mum adopted the phrase as it has Scandinavian origins, but my brothers and I were frequently called  “love”, “chick” or in my case, “princess” and were indeed “much loved”.  As an aside, when we were called by our given names, they were always preceded by “our”; an endearing feature of the Lancastrian dialect

Super Para Fragalympic!!!

We’re back from the Paralympics and what an amazing time we’ve had.  The organisation at the Olympic Park and O2 Arena was superb and the atmosphere was even better than we imagined.  We’re so thrilled we got tickets and took the journey south.  And we also fitted in a cable car ride across the Thames on the Emirates “air-line” and a river trip back into the centre of London past the sights, so all told, it was a fabulous break.   Oh and not forgetting the geocaches too.  We found a couple on the “To do” list so we’re very happy!

We're off to see the paras, the wonderful para-lympics

Our plans for cycling round the Zuiderzee are over; well for this year at least.  My dodgy knee, (which isn’t arthritis) just isn’t upto it; it’s taking me all my time to cycle the 10 minutes into work.  So we’ve had a re-think and are off to see the Paralympics instead, followed by a hunt for some alluring “find-meeee” geocaches.  It'll be equally as exciting if not as energetic (for us).  We’ve been longing to experience the Olympic atmosphere and having tried and failed many times to get tickets, to have finally secured some for the basketball is just brilliant

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.