May....ing

Another chilly damp morning, rather typical of this year’s disappointing May.  Here’s what I have been up to.

Puppy rearing.......which is hard work.  We have an arrangement.  If Alfie wakes in the night, and he usually does, Paul gets up to take him for a wee and settle him. Then I let Paul sleep when we are woken again around 6am and do my shift.  Just like having a baby to care for. He’s growing fast and into everything. 

Adding ‘organic matter’  to my newly dug borders. As my own compost is still full of bits of half rotted veg and intact avocado skins, I purchased a bulk bag from a local supplier and was surprised at how expensive it was. My father would be horrified at how much I spent on what resembled the contents of the dung hill (pronounced duch- ill)  on our farm in Ballyronan.  There are lumps which are distinctly horse poo shaped.

Enjoying the relaxation of the rules.  I’m not that bothered about shops but it so good not to have to shiver outside any longer when meeting friends for coffee.  And I’m very happy that Storyhouse, our local library/cinema/theatre is open again.  I’ve booked to see this play next weekend.  Not that sure what it is about but it has had good reviews. 

Reading Ishiguro books.  I read ‘Remains of the Day’ a few years ago along with Kate who studied it for A level and wasn’t terribly keen on it. I wasn’t either but thought it was well written.  There’s been a lot of hype about his latest book ‘Klara and the Sun’ so I got it from the library and also borrowed ‘Never Let Me Go’, which friends had recommended.  Both of these are kind of visions of the future - the narrator is an AF (Artificial Friend) in ‘Klara’ and a cloned ‘donor’ in ‘ Never Let Me Go’.  He doesn’t really write full Sci-fi though as the worlds he creates are not that different from our own. He focuses on exploring the emotions of the characters, especially the narrators.  I read an interview with Ishiguro in which he said that he feels he writes the same book over and over again. Initially there seems little to connect ‘Remains of the Day’, the story of a butler in England in the 1930s, with ‘Klara’ or  ‘Never Let Me Go’. But thinking again he has a kind of formula.  First person naive narrator, lonely and isolated and disappointed in love/friendship, victim of uncaring society/ corrupt regime, prepared to sacrifice his/herself for others,  I enjoyed ‘Klara and the Sun’ the most, finding Kathy the narrator in ‘Never Let Me Go’ a bit irritating with all of her dull digressions.  Klara, with her good girl, uncomplaining,  people-pleaser behaviour and her naive faith in the healing power of the sun, is a more appealing character to me.  A bit like me actually,  I suppose. The characters in all three novels seem to accept their fate rather than fight for what they want and this makes the books ultimately rather disappointing.  

Celebrating from afar, my youngest sister’s 50th birthday.  Displaying her indifference to advancing years, she completed an ultra-marathon last weekend. That’s 35 miles.  Pretty impressive. She was born on my mother’s 40th birthday so, if she were alive today, this would be her 90th birthday. I’m sure she would be very proud of her youngest daughter if she could see her now, meet her three children and hear about her marathon and her career success. 

Chilling Out

 In charge of puppy this morning while Paul is out on his bike.  After a rather manic phase where he was running around the kitchen chewing things he shouldn’t and biting Paul’s legs before he left, he has fallen asleep on me. . So I’m trapped here. Oh well - nothing I need to do that can’t wait. 

Gardening Genes

I’m finding as I relax into retirement now that the thing I’m doing most is gardening.  Whereas some of the other things I signed up for such as, for example, the course ‘The Novel and the City’, feel like a chore, heading out to the garden to do even mundane things like weeding and watering are enjoyable.  It’s being outside, the smell of the earth and watching things grow, how the seasons transform a dull patch of soil into a riot of colour when the tulips emerge. 

I reckon it’s in my genes: both my father and my grandfather were keen gardeners.  My father specialised in tomatoes grown in a makeshift greenhouse attached to the byre; my grandfather was an expert in soft fruit - strawberries, raspberries and blackcurrants - which we helped to pick as children, eating as many strawberries as we could before they were made into jam.  I succeeded with raspberries last year. Strawberries are trickier - I think they need better soil and more space than I’ve got. And this year I’m trying some new heritage varieties of cherry tomato.  The Sungold ones I grew last year were delicious.  I haven’t got a greenhouse so I’ll try some outside and some in my summerhouse. And hope for a sunny summer.

A couple of weeks ago I went on a garden design course at Lane End Cottage Gardens.  I was hoping for  a bit of advice on what to plant in the bed under the holly trees.  What I have ended up with is a much more ambitious plan.  Richard, who was the course tutor, is very enthusiastic and last Sunday he arrived with his spade and proceeded to dig out shrubs and tree roots and to remove ugly slabs of concrete from an overgrown bed in the centre of the garden.  He advised me to plant apple trees there. And to put a fan trained Morello Cherry on the north facing brick wall by the back door with a redcurrant on either side.  I’m hoping for plenty of summer puddings.  

On Friday I hired some help to cut up the tree roots and do the heavier digging.  Then I’m doing the planting myself.  I have bought from Richard’s small nursery, a Star Magnolia which I’m planning to add to the newly extended flowerbed facing the kitchen. There are other shrubs to plant to provide all year interest.  So I’m going to be busy. 

Before

After 

After from the other side showing the ‘terracing’. 

A New Addition to the Family

 Meet Alfie, the latest addition to the family.  He’s a lively, 9 week old, Wirehaired Vizsla puppy and is making life...interesting...at home. After losing our lovely dog in February we found the house very empty and knew that, though we could never replace her, we would eventually get another dog.  So last Saturday we picked this little bundle of fun up from the breeder in Wisbech.  He’s lovely but, like all puppies, very demanding. Paul is exhausted as he has been sleeping downstairs so that he is there if Alfie wakes up and needs to pee.  During the day he sleeps a lot but, when he is awake, tears around looking for things to chew. He is particularly partial to my feet -  his little teeth are very sharp. I’m less of a puppy enthusiast than the rest of the family and have been leaving the training to Paul and Kate.  But she’ll be back in Sheffield soon, attempting to have a final term of university life in the flat she’s been paying for all year even though all teaching is still online. So I’ll have to get more involved in doggy care and entertainment.  I’ll be happier when he gets his vaccination and we can get back to our dog-walking routine.

One advantage of having to travel down south to pick Alfie up was that I was able to meet up with my youngest sister en route - I was dropped off at Nene Park in Peterborough - and we had a pleasant couple of hours there walking around the lakes.  A bit chilly that morning but at least remained dry. We haven’t seen each other since December 2019.  So good to talk for real. 

Not much else to report. I’ve been working hard in the garden and will need to get out there soon to water.  After such a wet winter, there has been no rain here for weeks and my newly planted roses and freshly laid turf are suffering. I can’t do too much as I have a rather painful infected thumb probably caused by not wearing gloves while handling compost. I’ve had three days of antibiotics with no improvement and suspect it needs lancing. Yuch! Not looking forward to that. 

7

March - ing onwards

 March seems to have flown past for me.  After the very grim winter I can’t help but feel more hopeful as the days lengthen and Spring gets going.  Here’s a brief account of what I’ve been doing:

Gardening:  much time spent on this, most of it enjoyable, some tasks not so much.  I spent ages on lawn repair- spiking the lawn, applying top dressing,  laying new turf on the worst bits and sprinkling special dog wee surviving grass seed. This was hard work, mostly done by me with occasional help from our resident house guest, Calum, Kate’s boyfriend. And I’m not sure it’s worked as there’s not much sign of grass growing - just clover as far as I can see. Oh well at least it’s green. And there are some very fat pigeons around.

Sowing seeds: I’ve never had much success with this fiddly business but seem to have mastered it this year. My summerhouse house is full of emerging mini plants.

Finding new places to walk: our usual places still make us too sad. Last week we did a short stretch of the Sandstone Trail by Beeston Castle and are planning a longer walk in the same location this week.

Sock knitting: I’ve found this quite tricky even though I’m following a beginners’  pattern. I just about succeeded in turning the heel and it looks sock shaped even if there are a few holes where I’ve dropped stitches and a strange ridge where I think I was knitting in the wrong direction. 

Supporting Kate as she works on her dissertation: this mainly involves making lunch and cups of tea on demand, though I am sometimes called upon to proofread.  Just about follow her argument - it’s about aspects of fascism in Britain in the 1930s - but I’m struggling a bit with some of the history jargon. Still can’t remember what ‘palingenesis’  means.  I’m more help at spotting missing apostrophes and adding commas. 

Completing the final sessions of my online courses: these have been great during winter, providing structure to my week.  This week is the final session of my course on The Troubles in Northern Ireland with the focus on the early years 1968- 1974.  We’ve been discussing the attempt at a power-sharing assembly back in 1974 which is not that different to what is currently in place.  In 1974 the assembly collapsed because of a strike organised by a loyalist coalition.  I remember 1974 clearly  - there was a big car bomb in our village in the January. And it was the year my sisters and I were held at gunpoint as we did our homework one evening until my mother opened the safe in the post office and gave the raiders the pension money. . And during the loyalist strike my dad thought it would be a good idea to sell/give away to neighbours the milk which hadn’t been collected from the farm in our post office.   That was until we had a menacing phone call to tell us stop. That was scary. One slightly disappointing aspect of the course is that we haven’t had much time to discuss how the Troubles affected us personally. This week we’ve been promised some time to do this.  It will be interesting to hear who others on the course remember this time. 

Newspaper cutting from 1974 found in my mother scrapbook

And finally I enjoying becoming a ‘Handbag for a Day’ - I took part in an online singing workshop with our local choir A Handbag of Harmonies.  Great fun.  Kate videoed me singing ‘The Way You Look Tonight’ and it as all edited together with other contributions and put on YouTube.  Very embarrassing so I’m not adding the link. 

Green Shoots

 

I am feeling a bit more positive than in my previous post though we are all still very sad.  It has helped that the sun has been shining and the garden is coming to life.  The bulbs I planted are poking through and the little tête-à-tête daffodils and mini iris are already in bloom.

As it is less unpleasant outside, I’ve been attempting a bit of running again using the Couch to 5k programme and taking it very slowly as last time my knees started to object by Week 4. I wouldn’t say I’m enjoying it but I feel pleased with myself afterwards.

I’m also filling my time doing more Zoom courses.  I signed up for an evening course with the University of Liverpool’s Continuing Education Department on the History of the Troubles in Northern Ireland from 1966-1974. It’s been very interesting and made me realise how little I know about what is, in fact, part of my own history.  The lecturer who is from Liverpool is a real expert but he doesn’t give us much discussion time and to be honest doesn’t seem that interested in our contributions.  A few of the others have had personal experiences of the Troubles, including one lady who was at Queen’s during the time of the Civil Rights marches. I’d love to get the chance to talk to her.  

A more enjoyable course is the WEA course I’m doing - Creative Genealogy tutored by a really enthusiastic genealogist and writer, Kevin Brown.  Course participants are invited to use a story from their family history as inspiration for a creative project. Some of the others on the course are producing interesting crafty items using fabric, decoupage and sewing; others like me are sticking to words and pictures.  I am continuing with the family saga I have been working on for a while, aiming to complete one section of the story during this course.  It’s been really interesting to talk to others and being able to share my plans has got me started on my project again.  I have also decided to share my writing on the blog so if you are interested click on the link to The House’s Tale for the first instalment. 

February

This is going to be a hard post to write because I have some really sad news.  Our beautiful dog Booshka who has appeared on the blog many times died suddenly last Wednesday morning. She was fine until last Sunday evening. Kate and I had walked her as usual in the morning, Paul being out of action after a bad fall from his bike.  But later that day she was sick and after that things went downhill very quickly.  I won’t go into the painful details of the experience but we did everything we could, followed the vet’s advice at every stage and in the end drove her to an emergency specialist hospital in Manchester at midnight on Tuesday. She was eventually diagnosed with a ruptured gall bladder and they planned to operate. But it was too late, she was too sick. 

We are heartbroken. She was only 2 years old and we expected to have her around for many more years. I thought we’d grow old together, that she’d catch up with me in doggy years by the time in was in my early seventies.  Our whole routine revolved around her and we don’t what to do with ourselves; the house seems very empty and far too clean.  It’s hard to go for walks as we don’t want to follow the usual routes without her and we don’t want to see other people walking their dogs.  There have been lots of tears from all of us. We’ve had many kind messages from friends and family, though perhaps it is only dog owners who get it.  One family member - who meant well - pointed out,  after sending her condolences, that now we’d be able to enjoy our retirement and go away on holidays without making complicated arrangements. I feel a bit guilty as it’s my moaning that has probably prompted this comment which upset us a bit. I didn’t want this dog to start with,  she was too big, too strong for me to walk. I complained about her fur clogging the vacuum and the vast quantities of mud she walked in.  She caused me to break my arm, Paul to break his ankle.  But now I’d happily let her break my other arm if we could just have her back.

On Wednesday, which was a mild, sunny day here, Kate and I went to Ness Gardens as we knew there’d be no dogs there. We walked and cried and sat on benches and cried some more.  The snowdrops at Ness. were in full bloom and they will always remind me of our lovely Booshka.