Monday, 28 June 2010
Sunday, 27 June 2010
Thursday, 24 June 2010
Wednesday, 23 June 2010
Tuesday, 22 June 2010
Sunday, 20 June 2010
Friday, 18 June 2010
Some nice pics tonight. First up, we get abandoned again as Dad goes off sailing in the Swale with 2CV Llew and his buddy Derek who owns a slightly tired looking 30-foot sailing boat called Bonzer. This was Dad's first time sailing (except for barge trips) since he used to sail dinghies (Larks) on gravel pits while at University, so he was a bit rusty (and the Larks never had all this posh coffee-grinder winch technology!) but they let him steer for ages and play with a few sheets (ropes) and it all came back to him.
The Swale was a good bit breezy and spotting in the wind, so it was a bit chilly, but he's home now, back in the warm and Mum is cooking his supper. The 2nd pic is of his posh new car, which he's only had a week at this stage.
Have a great weekend
Monday, 14 June 2010
Saturday, 12 June 2010
Dad had done his annual leading of a guided walk with the Friends of Kingswood, this one the Nightjar walk. It was a good one. They'd had a good turn out and not lost anyone in the dark, and the nightjars had done their stuff churring and flapping about. They also saw and heard (via the bat-box) plenty of bats but there was no sign of deer, glow worms or woodcock, which are usually seen on this walk)
Ah well, the jasmine is now all gone, bagged up and lugged up to the tip in 5 car journeys, all in Mum's little Fiat because Dad picked up his brand new car yesterday and didn't want to be filling it with skanky old jasmine.
Up at the allotment, Dad gets a good cut of spinach, a couple of artichokes and the first broad beans. Back at home he pods these out into a bucket and is that a tear I see come to his eye? He's welling up a bit missing Megan. Megan used to love a broad bean straight out of the pod (the gnarlier and older, grey skinned the bean, the better) and used to sit at Dad's feet every time they podded hoping for Dad to occasionally give her a bean, or accidentally ping one out across the terrace. Haggis and I hate beans, so we're no use to him here, and I think it brought it all back.
Poor ol' Dad
Friday, 11 June 2010
Monday, 7 June 2010
Ahhh here he is, the dashing handsome chap; always suave, debonair, groomed, slick, sharp.... never a hair (or chunk of duckweed) out of place. Who couldn't love the silly old sod?
Meanwhile we hear that both those Yorkie pups you saw in an earlier post, still with their Mum when our Mum and Dad went over to visit the Silverwoods in Ireland, are now happily ensconced with their various human families. The first, smaller, smooth coated (ish) one is named Rameses, Steak Lady being mad keen on all things Egyptological, so is having to cope with prior Yorkies Cracker and Rosie (whom we have also featured previously in this blog) plus the new (ish) Siamese Seal-Point "Seti" (another Egyptian deity)).
The larger, hairier beast, named Coco, is now with the Silverwoods and therefore has to contend with the ancient mongrel "Chance" and the lively children (Em-J, J-M, Toddler M and Wobbly-toddler R) plus any other members of the current menagerie (tortoises, hamsters etc). We wonder whether we will meet Coco over on the narrow boat any time soon, but we suspect not this year. He will be very very small still, and the thought of making sure he survives a week on a boat with we mob is almost a nightmare. A girl could turn white overnight.... Dad says, that'd be a change!
Sunday, 6 June 2010
Daimond, John and Northern family friend of Diamond, Joan descend upon us this afternoon for a bit of roast pork lunch. They bring Rags down so that Dad can give him a bit of tidy up round his bits with scissors, and make his "aft" end a bit more fragrant. Rags is happy to oblige but counteracts any attempt to make him clean by diving into the fish pond.
This is very normal for Rags and he loves to emerge looking thoroughly disreputable, his beard and Denis Healey eyebrows turned into sodden rats tails, and his fur liberally speckled with green duckweed. Only a Mother could love him.
I don't, of course and spend the whole visit glaring at him balefully from as near as I can get to Dad's lap, growling when he gets too close, and yapping at him single piercing yaps if he forgets. It makes for a lovely, bucolic, peaceful, tranquil rural scene.
Taxi for Ragworth!