Saturday, 20 January 2007

Z should be working, but has found an excuse to blog instead

I lurched out of bed late this morning. I woke up, dozed and woke again more zonked than before. I lay supine for another half hour before I was able to stir myself.

When I arrived downstairs, I discovered that there had been a message from our chainsaw-wielding chum, to say that he had to work this morning so can't come to help with the trees - we have a large ash tree down and a scrubbier hawthorn. They are both on the field, but the roots of the ash have come up, leaving a hole by the beck and the thorn has fallen over the beck itself. They will both need sorting out; let's hope that, once cut, the ash stump will just drop back into place. The beck has a gravel base and disturbance isn't good for it.

Squiffany and I did have our happy day yesterday. We went for a walk round the village. I'd thought to walk into Yagnub, but Tilly the dog looked so hopeful that I changed my mind. A dog on an extending lead and a child in a pushchair are not easy to manage on the main road to Yagnub, which has a narrow footpath. Tilly feels very self-important when she is responsible for Squffany. It is the only time when she is not nervous of other dogs. She even goes into territory-marking - stopping to pee every few minutes and, hilariously, trying to lift her leg against a wall or lamppost like a dog. She gave a hard stare at a cat, surprised behind a parked car, but they both moved in in a dignified way.

When we arrived home, the Sage's car was missing. My bag was in the house and we were locked out. Fortunately, I'd fetched something out of my car before going out and left the key in the ignition. So the three of us went in to Yagnub to ask Al if his father was around. He had, it seemed, received a phone call from an Elderly Friend in Distress, whose electricity was off after the gale and who was worried about the contents of her freezer. Sage forgiven for forgetting us, I borrowed money from Al and we went out to lunch here.*

Dilly arrived home while Squiffany was eating tea - scrambled eggs on toast followed by a satsuma ... I'd gone for the simple option that I knew she'd eat. Sqiffany wielded a spoon in one hand and a fork in the other skilfully and didn't notice her mother for a few minutes. Then "oh, hello, Mummy, hello Pugsley," she said and kept on eating. Halfway through the satsuma, she suddenly looked at me. "Thank you, thank you, Granny" she said. "Hug." And I received a juicy orange hug and kiss.

*This is more child-friendly than the review sounds as you can have anything from a teacake or sandwich to a full meal.

6 comments:

Chairwoman of the bored said...

That sounds like a nice day, Z dear.

I can imagine your little dog and the strange cat giving each other hard, dignified stares whilst pretending they're not at all bothered by each other's presence. Sometimes I feel there should be animal oscars for dogs pretending they're not terrified of cats.

Wendz said...

All this stuff you're writing will make wonderful reading for those children when they are older.

Are you saving them onto your Mac?

Z said...

I had a dog who enjoyed chasing cats, until he cornered one once. It turned and looked at him and he tactfully looked the other way whilst it stalked off. He continued to chase cats, but always again took care not to catch up.

Z said...

I'm afraid not, Wendz. A friend told me I should, so I investigated, but it transpired that it would take more than a mouse click to do it. So I didn't. Maybe one day, but it seems to attach more importance than it's worth.

martina said...

You could always just print them out for the grandchildren to read on paper when they grow up. What is a beck? A dry stream bed? Hawthorns-nasty plant-especially if you try to do any gardening or pruning near them. Maybe you need to bring out the extraordinary Christmas gift pruners (and gauntlet gloves).

Z said...

It's just another word for a stream or brook, Martina. The Sage, who was born here, always calls it the beck, so I do too. I'm not sure I want to get near that hawthorn, it's a bit vicious for me!

If ever I get around to categorising the family bits of the blog, I'll probably save them too. But it's just as likely not to happen, I'm quite happy for it all to vanish in the long run.