Z is still an unreliable blogger

 I've just found some comments that needed approval.  Sorry - no idea why they didn't go through automatically.

I now have, supposedly, got back my other blog - the .co.uk one - but I have to do more to be able to get it visible and it's beyond me.  I'm going to have to bother Ronan, which I really hate to do.  But I don't understand anything.  

September has been tricky.  I haven't wanted to talk about it, because I use blogging to be a positive and cheerful Z, for the most part and that wouldn't really be possible.  However, the short holiday was really excellent and I finally did get the catalogue finished - typing on a coach is difficult and a strain on the eyes, but it's possible.  

I really want to whinge, but it'll be much better to write it down when it's all sorted out and I can look back and pretend it wasn't that bad after all.

We did finally find both tortoises.  Wince searched out one while I was away and I found the other when I came home.  They weren't buried very deep, but camouflage is good.  Now, both are in their autumn indoor quarters, but Leo (the tortoise formerly known as Anastasia) is just as determined to go to sleep and  burrows down as far as he can.  Fyodor (ex Natasha) is eating enthusiastically and is active.  I'm not quite sure what to do, it still seems too early for full hibernation.

Scrabble, the oldest bantam, died last month.  She was ten and a half years old and, until the last week or so, had been very well, but I think she had a mild stroke or a seizure, because she seemed confused one evening and didn't know how to eat.  After a couple of days, she managed again, but she kept twitching her head to one side.  I left her in the henhouse, she wasn't distressed and seemed happier with the other chickens, going out every day and then onto the perch at night, but I didn't really expect her to recover.  Eventually, she retreated to a nest box at night - still enjoying mealworms, fed by hand as usual - but for the last couple of days she couldn't even get up there.  I brought her indoors for her last day - which was my birthday, as it happens.  It's par for the course.  Russell died on a grandchild's birthday and Tim died on my son-in-law's.  Rotten timing all round.

Now, I have ten bantams, all 5 or 6 years old.  I need to decide in the next six months whether to get another cockerel or not.  These are all descended from our original flock, dumped in the churchyard more than 35 years ago and, if they die out, I won't necessarily stop having chickens but I won't have chicks.  I honestly don't know.  It's easier without a cockerel - simply because my lovely little girls are such good mothers, they vanish and then turn up 3 weeks later with a brood of chicks.  So, if I don't want chicks, I can't let them free range.  And then there's the problem of surplus cocks.  But they are such dear little hens and I don't want to lose the family.  I suspect I'll regret either decision.

The days grow short, when you reach September, but what about the tortoises?

 The tortoises have been pretty quiet for a few weeks.  But they woke up and were interested in life a few days ago, so I bathed them and fed them - one wasn't interested in the food, but the other ate.  I've looked for them every day since but, other than Fyodor the next day, they've stayed out of sight.  Yesterday, Wince spent the whole morning building them an inside run and I, today, bought a whole lot of topsoil and got it ready for them.  Then went tortoise hunting.  I've found one of them, the top of his shell being 3 inches underground, the other must be close by as the earth is hard or grassed over in the rest of their secure run.  

I'm hesitating.  It might be quite a shock to a sleeping tortoise, to be dug up.  Yet they stopped eating 3 or 4 weeks ago and it's a long time until March, if they hibernate the whole time.  I was hoping to feed them up for a month or six weeks, gradually wind them down for another month and then let them sleep.  I'll decide tomorrow.  Ronan and the children are coming over, so I'll ask him to help me take their cold frame away, so I can get to them more easily, if I want to wake them up.

We had thought of meeting in Norwich, but it's more time efficient for me if they come over here, I'll have an extra hour or so to get on with things.  I've got so much to do before I go away on Sunday.  But there's no point in fussing about it.  I'll do whatever I can and take my laptop with me.  Can one type on a coach?  I'm thinking of squirrelling myself away at the back and working throughout the journey to Cheltenham.

On another subject entirely, I have a nail that starts to split when it grows much beyond the nail bed.  I can't remember ever damaging it, so it's quite odd.  There isn't a visible crack, but it goes at the same place every time.  So annoying.  However, the success story of the summer is my eyelashes.

I'm going all girly on you, so apologies and I'll totally understand if you quietly leave at this point.  But it's one of the things, when you get old, that your previously lovely eyelashes stop being lovely, but are short and stubby.  Then I heard about eyelash serum - on the comments page of the Times (I've a feeling I've written about this, have I?) and bought some and, well, it's spectacular.  It took a few weeks, but they are now magnificent.  The other thing is eyebrows, which either get bristly and beetling or else pretty well vanish - mine were somewhere in the middle, but I'd resorted to filling in the gaps.  Friends, eyelash serum works on eyebrows too.  Only problem is that I now need them professionally tidied up as they're so thick. I've actually turned back time.  Three cheers for eyelash serum, which is actually one of the ingredients for a treatment for glaucoma.  I've stopped using it, because I was starting to feel like Dumbo, but with lashes rather than ears.  I'm not sorry that I haven't found a growth serum for ears.  I wouldn't mind having ears that rotated like a hare's, though.  Wouldn't it be great?

I have a lot of eggs, but I also have a small, but tempting cauliflower and a lot of milk.  Cauliflower cheese and a hardboiled egg?  I've also got runner beans.  I don't want to cook because of the difficulty of washing up, but - well, it sounds tasty.  And cooking is what Z does.

November is looking more promising...

 My darling friend Lynn's birthday is a fortnight after mine, so today is the midway spot between the two of us.  I have not yet bought her a present, nor thanked her for mine.  There was an exhibition of spinning and weaving in Yagnub the week before last and I'd hoped I might find her something there - sadly, I didn't make it there until the last day and everything that I thought would have really suited her was already sold.  I suspect I know what I'll send, but it's perishable, so I hope her beloved hasn't whisked her away on holiday.  I must deal with it soon, anyway.

Absolute chaos still at the Zedery.  I'm mightily pissed off with the kitchen fitter, who has been an arse.  Quite simply, because he hasn't kept anyone informed, so the kitchen units turned up the morning after the old kitchen had been stripped and he hadn't told Magnet - who had employed him on my behalf - that he had no intention of coming that morning.  He has been awkward and obstructive and he has one more chance, next week.  And I can't really talk about it because it takes a lot to make me angry and he has and I don't need to fan the flames.  I'd rather calm myself down.

My friends Pam and Peter have moved into a very luxurious nursing home in the town a few miles away.  I went to visit them the other day - I felt very bad, that I hadn't been before, but they're too stressed to want unannounced visitors and they haven't been answering their phone.  Anyway, they have a very nice room, but it absolutely won't do in the long term.  Poor Pam has a bed tucked in a corner, because Peter needs so much care that his has to take centre position, with room for a hoist and a wheelchair too.  I've talked to their daughter about the situation - Pam is woken every night when they come to look after Peter.  She's seriously thinking of going back to their house for a couple of nights, just to get some sleep.  For what they're paying, they should have a bedroom and a sitting room, at the least.  

In the midst of all, I'm working on the auction catalogue.  I've never been so behind, but I'll have to try very hard to spot all mistakes before the catalogue itself is formatted, so that it'll just be tweaking at that stage.  I'm running out of time, however.  I need the first draft ready by Saturday night, but I'm out most of tomorrow, on Friday morning and on Saturday; then I'm going away from Sunday morning to Thursday evening.  I used to be able to do paperwork in the evenings after everyday work all day, but I simply can't now.  Our old friend Dave East kindly came over to help with the photography yesterday, as I'd sounded so distressed on Facebook.  I don't usually show it when I'm that agitated any more, but I'm glad I did, because I appreciated his help and friendship and enjoyed his company.  And today, I didn't cancel my visit to Norwich - which I would have done, back in the day, when I put work first - but then stayed on for lunch (I've learned to like going into a nice restaurant and asking for a table for one) and then bought clothes - nothing interesting, just jeans and sensible shoes for my trip away next week, which will involve a lot of walking.  

I also dealt with some bank admin.  I now need to write a covering letter and post stuff off.  I've also got to book Tim's car's MOT and, before that, get a chip in the windscreen repaired.

In short, I'm coping, but there's a lot to do.  

Z will be back

 Thank you, I'm sorry I've worried you lovely friends.  I'm fine, I'm quite harassed and I'm also very busy.  At one time, I'd still have blogged, even if it had been from my phone at 11.55 pm and I'd been nearly asleep.  It's not a bad thing that I've moved on from that.  

In short, I don't have a kitchen yet, I do have a bathroom and a cloakroom floor, I'm okay, my family is okay, I'll blog as soon as the catalogue for the next auction is under control.  

Z's Scottish holiday 4 I think. Returning home

Honestly, everything was wonderful.  Apart from the minor detail of my phone wanting me to walk in rough grass next to a very busy dual carriageway, which was more than redeemed by a lovely woman turning her car round on a side road, to come and check where I wanted to go and put me right, everything was perfect.  Except leaving my bag in the taxi, having to run - and retrieving it, woo hoo - which gave me two migraines; but that was completely my fault, so doesn't count - it was fabulous.  When I'm not so busy, I might upload some photos, but they'll just be random snapshots, so you won't miss anything if I don't get round to it.

I'm so far behind the daily blogging that I might have to do a précis.  Now it's Tuesday 2nd September and it's Dilly's birthday.  I sent her a card, but that's all, apart from an affectionate message.  I've asked what she would like and she's told me, which is alarmingly practical, but I'm completely out of imagination,  Son in law Phil's birthday on the 5th and at least I've posted the card today...

The kitchen is no longer there, it's a bare room with an Aga.  So this should also be a kitchen post.  I trust I'll do better tomorrow.  I have got some extras done today, including the first steps to retrieving my other blog.  From now on, all posts will be put on both.  I'll talk to Ronan about the possibility of filling in the gaps here, too.  Belt and braces is the least of it, at the Zedery

Z's Scottish holiday - 3 (having written 2 but not described it as such)

 I hadn't realised quite how huge Loch Lomond was, nor any of the lochs.  Scotland is bigger than it looks on the maps.  The drive to Fort William was uneventful and I received a warm welcome from my very dear friends.  The next day, J was working - though past retirement age, he still works as a doctor at the local hospital, with one day a fortnight dedicated to his really vital research.  C and I drove up towards the port that led to the Isles.  

That would have been uneventful, if an idiot hadn't completely misjudged a series of bends and driven towards us, on our side of the road.  It was sheer luck that he managed to control his car at the last and - C having braked sharply - avoided us.  The roads are well signed to slow down, the moron had no excuse.  A lot of people drive badly and that's that.  Your bad luck if they kill you, but we were lucky that day.

Truly, the time I spent with J,C and their son Ca were wonderful.  I loved everything.  The drive and walk to the waterfall, their delicious food and the visit to Mallaig, with the excellent lunch that C would not let me pay for.  The next morning, I drove back to Glasgow, stopping at the Hill House, designed by Rennie Mackintosh, on the way.  The sadness that he died quite young of cancer, not having any idea how much he would be admired in the future.

I got back to the hotel and had a nap before dinner.  How pleasant it is, to have an afternoon nap - I so rarely do that.  The nice young waiter greeted me and remembered my preferred drink.  After a peculiar pizza a couple of nights earlier (I don't say it wasn't acceptable, but gherkins on a pizza are weird), I decided to have a burger, which was one of the best - I'm no expert and rarely eat it, but that didn't preclude its quality - I've ever eaten.

Today, I drove back to the BWs in Northumberland and arrived quite a lot earlier than I'd thought I would - which was just as well, because rain was forecast and they wanted to take me to their favourite National Trust property; Wallington, about half an hour from their house.  And now it's 9.30 and I'm tired, so more another day.  Tomorrow, I drive home again.

Z takes the high road

 It's been too busy to keep up but, tonight, I've had dinner and it's not yet 9 o'clock, so here we are.

The car has been fine.  I still have no idea what the problem was - on Thursday, I'd driven for 45 minutes before stopping briefly twice, so the battery should have had plenty of charge.  I'm still quite anxious every time I start it, but we're back to the normal vroom, so it seems to have sorted out its problem.

On Friday, I walked to the Kelvingrove, where I was meeting Fiona once she'd finished with her appointments.  My satnav had a slight, bemusing glitch, when it wanted me to walk alongside a freeway, which was clearly not designed for pedestrians.  As I hesitated, a woman did a turn in a side road to come and ask if I needed help.  So kind!  But every Scot I've met has been friendly and kind.  She soon put me right, there was a back road - and the next time, this was what the satnav advised.  Lack of concentration on the part of inanimate objects,  it seems.

The Burrell is fabulous, as ever.  I think there are more pieces on display - although, the last time I was there, I had limited time and there was plenty, on this visit.  I took slight issue with some of the labels - I think that they should give information rather than opinions and, in at least one case, the opinion was factually incorrect.  They also fudged, in a few cases - not that they should have said anything in those instances, but it was hypocritical not to.  But that's nothing to do with the exhibits or the layout, both of which were wonderful.

The next day was Saturday and I took the train to Edinburgh.  With incredible stupidity, I managed to leave a bag in the taxi and, realising immediately,  I started to chase the taxi down the road, waving at it.  Luckily, it was held up by a traffic light, 500 metres down the road.  Z does not run at full pelt for 500m.  But I had to.  I just arrived as the lights changed and was able to stop the driver, fall into the cab and pick up my bag.  I staggered back to the station and leant on a wall for several minutes, panting.  I hope never to run that far or fast again.  It's bad for me.  Later, I developed a migraine, which I walked off for an hour or two, but it came back - I found a Boots and bought some pills, which worked.  

I went to the Scottish National Gallery and the museum, then walked until I found myself halfway down Princes Street.  Up or down?  I had a feeling that down would take me to the port of Leith.  Devoted as I am to the wonderful McLevy stories (on the radio, but David Ashton has also written books), I thought that walking down hill had the inevitable consequence of having to walk up again - I've since been told there's a tram - so I went up, towards the castle.  But once I got there, the migraine started again and I eventually headed back to the station.  I was feeling that I'd seen enough galleries for the day, anyway.

By Sunday, I'd bounced back and walked back to the Kelvingrove.  I'd spent a short time in there on Friday, but saw it all on Sunday morning, spending most time with the Scottish Colourists and the Glasgow Boys.  The Dali picture of Christ on the cross is, as I remembered, a remarkable painting.  To think there was controversy at the time it was bought.  Art students thought the money should have been given to - er - art students.  It cost £8,200 (or was it £8,400?) which was an absolute steal, even then.  I hope the ignorant students have learnt something over the decades.

In the afternoon, I drove up to Fort William.  How ignorant I am.  I knew that Loch Lomond was long compared to its width, but I had no idea of its actual size.  It's huge.  24 miles by 5 miles - it doesn't look so big on the map, but there are fewer roads in Scotland and I guess maps aren't given on the same scale as more populated area.  You drive right alongside it.  Driving up to the Highlands is wonderful - all the lochs and mountains are breathtaking.  One has to focus more on the winding roads, however.

I had a wonderful time with my friends and that needs another post.  Possibly tomorrow, but it's not very likely as I'm leaving after breakfast, to return to the BWs, where I'll stay for a final night of my fabulous holiday.