...and hafftun cowzy divy. Bart Simpson is the boldest cow and she waylays the barrow to check what's edible on it before it goes to the bonfire. I've mostly been cutting out brambles and dead trees today. They are so dead that they fall down quite nicely if you push them.
But first, I went to the dentist. That hurt. Not the dentist himself, but his bill. He looked carefully for several minutes, assured me that my gums and tongue and suchlike look in good order (I'm glad to hear this, because both the people I have known with mouth or jaw cancer had it originally spotted on routine dental check-ups) and decided to give me a quick clean and polish. The extra five minutes this took presumably justified the £45 bill.
Tonight, babysitting. Dilly and Al are going to the beekeepers meeting. A couple of weeks ago, a customer was stung by a wasp in the shop. She (Val from the pet shop, Badge) was unperturbed, but later her finger swelled up and the next day she collapsed. Steroids put her right, but she'll have to be careful in future.
I'm a little anxious. Several weeks ago, I was asked if I'd play a few Harvest hymns for a nearby village's Harvest Supper, which is in their village church. I gained the impression that it would be a bit of rousing singing before the meal. Yesterday, I had a phone call from a chap who wants to agree with me what's happening and he's cheerily talking about 40 minutes or so after the meal. What? I'm not doing any sort of recital here. I haven't time to practise and I haven't the suitable repertoire. A dashing voluntary or some quiet funeral stuff is what I do, when it isn't hymns. I haven't played the piano for ages as mine's still off for repair. He's coming round in half an hour to talk about it, and I'll have to make it quite clear that I can lead singing or accompany a soloist, but I'm not the main event, in any sense.
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z just say no:)
They've just left. I did. They took it very well.
I softened the blow by offering to play some cheerful stuff in the background as people arrive.
We plough the fields and sca-tter the good seed on the land!
You'd have to play it pretty slow to get 40 minutes out of it, but still...
Can I come along?
There is someone with a banjo who plays Country and Western. I was quite hopeful for a minute, in case it's JonnyB, but it doesn't sound like him.
Yay, we'll tuck you in the choir stalls.
Surely there can't be two banjo players in the area.
Ooh, Dave. Will I get to meet JonnyB? But I thought he lived in North Norfolk, and this chap sings in the next village church choir.
I've got a clue though. JonnyB says he charges like Bill Werbeniuk.
I got stung by a bee, three years ago.. The time before that was when I'd been eight. When I was eight, I'd cried my head off. Three years ago, my leg got really sore and stiff and I had a imobilizing shooting pain that, strangley, I quite enjoyed. I've been wishing to get stung ever since. Otherwise, I'm a relatively normal personality in the sphere of normalicy. Do beekeepers ever hear of such oddity?
I was taught it was "Little Lambdsy Divy"...
Mommahbear, relatively normal - but not all that normal?
Some beekeepers encourage their bees to sting them as it's supposed to be good for rheumatism, I understand. But enjoying a shooting pain is ... unusual.
Yes, Boy, but I have cows on the field, not lambs, and I was feeding them ivy. Maybe I was being too clever by half.
Mares eat oats and does eat oats and little lambs eat ivy. Kids will eat ivy too, wouldn't you?
I tried some the other day. It didn't taste unpleasant, but it was very tough. But half-ton cows certainly eat ivy.
Who the hell taught us this maresy doats thing, and why, and in what context? You wouldn't just go up to a child and say it to them, would you?
It was an American comedy song of the 1940s based on an English nursery rhyme no-one's ever heard of.
'Tis I who live in North Norfolk; a little dog tells me JonnyB lives in South Norfolk.
Really? I thought you both did. I feel that the prestige of South Norfolk has just gone up several notches. Having had a bit of a slip four years ago.
I was sure, from things he'd said, that he lived somewhere up here, but Murph assures me they live in the same village.
Well, I know how dogs gossip.
Some beekeepers encourage their bees to sting them as it's supposed to be good for rheumatism, I understand.
Nah, we don't need to encourage them to do that, they do it naturally if we rattle their hives around too much (ie upset them)!
But, there are people who ring us and say they want to come and be stung. Mad all of them - I send them away saying that I don't wish to be sued for their death if they are found to suffer with anaphalactic shock.
I don't know a single beekeeper who has any sort of joint problem, and, considering hte lifting involved, I'm amazed and convinced there is something in the protective theory.
And, if it makes you feel any better, our dentist charges £50 for a 5 minute check up and won't lower himself to polishing - you have to see the hygienist for that, at another £45.50. Thanks goodness for HSA.
I too thought that JonnyB was a North Norfolk lad. Maybe he's throwing a false scent...
Well, I don't see Al encouraging it and Dilly certainly won't.
Ouch, hope southern prices don't come to Norfolk.
I thought Murph was a cross Labrador, not a bloodhound.
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