Most depressing day of the Year?

I don't think so!

Apparently, Monday, January 21, has been officially declared the gloomiest day of the year.

Psychologist Cliff Arnall, an expert in depression, has used a mathematical formula to pinpoint today as Blue Monday. He says it is the day when six factors come together to leave us at our most miserable. They are:

1. the dank and gloomy weather;
   
2. Christmas debt;
   
3. a feeling of monotony after the Christmas cheer has faded;
   
4. broken New Year's resolutions;
   
5. low levels of motivation;
   
6. and a desperate feeling that you need to take action to improve your drab existence.

So, as it's my birthday and that gives me the right to speak as I feel for 24 hours, here are my solutions to the above problems:

1. the dank and gloomy weather; - Hey, it's January. the weather is always miserable in January - always has been and always will be. Get used to it! Buy a warm coat, boots and an umbrella and get out and enjoy it!
2. Christmas debt; Well, there is an obvious answer to this...if you haven't got it, don't spend it. Stop letting yourself become trapped by pre-christmas advertising that says you must have this and must have that. You don't. And don't submit to blackmail by your children who will accuse you of being a bad mother or father for not providing them with the latest gadget or craze. Tell them instead to go start their own craze using string and an empty baked bean tin.
   
3. a feeling of monotony after the Christmas cheer has faded; OK, I'm helped by having a birthday a few weeks after Christmas but it's easy enough to plan to do something so that you have something to look forward to..I don't know, a day out on a windswept beach or a splash in all those puddles!
   
4. broken New Year's resolutions; That's easy. Don't make any then you won't be disappointed if you fail. Aim to make slow, longer-lasting changes instead.
   
5. low levels of motivation; You know what? We all have those all through the year. It happens. Deal with it like the rest of us do.
   
6. and a desperate feeling that you need to take action to improve your drab existence. Then take action! Don't wallow in your misery. Damn well do something to improve your drab existence and stop blaming everyone else for your sad life. No-one but you can improve it.

There endeth today's rant!

Fun Monday #5 - The View from my Front Door

Vicki over at Catching Light is hosting this weeks anniversary Fun Monday...it's been a year since Vicki started the ball rolling!

It's also another anniversary today....my Birthday!

The very first Fun Monday was the view from your front door and so Vicki is re-creating that one for this week and this is the assignment: For those of you who did NOT post a picture of your view from your front door (that'll be me as I'm a Newbie!), then your assignment is to post a view from your front door. To do this you stand in your doorway looking outside and take a picture. That simple. We (I) want to see what you see when you look out your front door.

The view from my front door is not that inspiring at the moment. We moved into the cottage just about a year ago and there was so much to be done inside that the outside has pretty much been left to fend for itself. We wanted to go through a whole year and see what came up so we could decide what to with it all - hence why it looks a bit of a mess at the moment!

My front door is to the side of my house so it's only just over a metre or so to the gate (please excuse my compost buckets!):

To the right - there used to be a bank of soil right up to the gate but OH dug it all back and built the brick wall. In the summer that bed is a riot of herbs and it looks lovely! It also gives us a small area where we sit and have breakfast in the summer, away from the prying eyes of our nosey neighbour!


To the left is where I keep my bike, which I use to get back and for to work, and our boiler. The area to the right will either be paved over or we may plant some shade-loving plants there.



Outside the gate though is lovely! We live in the middle of Wimbledon Common and so we open the gate onto 460 hectares of land that is left natural. We have woodlands, grassland, ponds and all sorts of wild flora and fauna in the summer. It is heaven for The Lurchers! It's been grey and miserable all day but the sun just came out through the clouds so I ran out with my camera!


Head over to Catching Light to see everyone else's Fun Monday posts!

I am hosting Fun Monday on 28th January so watch this space for details! I've narrowed it down to two topics so am trying to choose one!

Why do I find this funny!?

I have completely overloaded on chocolate mousse that my friend made for dessert tonight and I'm having not so much a sugar rush as a sugar avalanche. Which is probably why I find this article on the BBC website hysterically funny!

A woman who ripped off her ex-boyfriend's testicle with her bare hands has been sent to prison.

Amanda Monti, 24, flew into a rage when Geoffrey Jones, 37, rejected her advances at the end of a house party, Liverpool Crown Court heard.

She pulled off his left testicle and tried to swallow it, before spitting it out. A friend handed it back to Mr Jones saying: "That's yours."

Monti admitted wounding and was jailed for two-and-a-half years.

'Pulled hard'

Sentencing Monti, Judge Charles James said it was "a very serious injury" and that Monti was not acting in self-defence.

The court heard that Mr Jones had ended his long-term but "open relationship" with Monti towards the end of May last year.

The pair remained on good terms and on 30 May she picked him up from a party in Crosby and went back for drinks with friends at Mr Jones's house.

An argument ensued and Mr Jones said there was a struggle between them.

In his statement, Mr Jones said she grabbed his genitals and "pulled hard".

He added: "That caused my underpants to come off and I found I was completely naked and in excruciating pain."

The court heard that a friend saw Monti put Mr Jones's testicle into her mouth and try to swallow it.

She choked and spat it back into her hand before the friend grabbed it and gave it back to Mr Jones. Doctors were unable to re-attach the organ.

I mean, just how hard must she have pulled? And to try and swallow it!? What was she thinking!!

The line highlighted in red has just finished me off.....you have to read between the lines and wonder what the heck was going on! Must have been one hell of a party!

Five times when the F-word is acceptable.

I will confess to being a lazy blogger today. We are staying with friends, good friends who wouldn't really mind if I sat here writing a lengthy tome, but that would just be bad manners so instead you get these which I pinched from someone on the Greyhound Gap Forum and made me chuckle!

Five times when the F-word is acceptable:

Windows in your heart - songs of sadness

Straight Up and Slightly Dirty mentioned in her blog yesterday about a new meme started by Hedgewizard. I would like to say I avoid meme's like the plague but of course I don't. I love spilling beans about myself as much as the next person! This meme is a particularly good one though and perhaps opens up the soul a little more than the average meme and, as my birthday is approaching, I seem to be in the mood to let my heart have a say in my blog.

Hedgewizard's meme is this: Songs that make you cry...and why

If you like the idea, then please take it as a meme and post the button below into a blog entry of your own along with a story, or at least a mention of that one song that always makes you cry.

I play most of my music in the car and that's why this particular song is dangerous to listen to when I'm driving but if I'm in the right frame of mind, and in the right place, I'll pull over and just listen.

A few years after Himself and I got together, we were in a mess. Actually that's not true, Himself was fine, I was in a mess. I loved this man more than anything. I knew he was the person I wanted to spend the rest of my life with. But he was in his late 30s, had had plenty of relationships but nothing ever serious and he never settled down with anyone. He was fly by night, take it as it comes and move on just as easily. He was independent and the thought of "two becoming one" was an anaethema to him. Yet he had asked me to move in with him so maybe I was the one.

But I was insanely jealous of any woman from his past, imagined present and imagined future. Like most men, he wasn't averse to the flattery of female attention. He wasn't a flirt but if anyone started to flirt with him, he'd lap it up.

He'd told me several times that he didn't love me. Can you imagine what I went through? I was tearing myself apart at the seams. Friends who knew him well just said that was ridiculous and of course he did, it was blindingly obvious to them, he just wouldn't, or couldn't, admit it to himself.

Eventually I had to sort myself out because if I didn't I would end up having a nervous breakdown and destroying everything and I was not prepared to let that happen. Then I heard this song and I used to wish he'd just listen to the lyrics and understand that he just had to open up a chink. It really would be OK.

That song is called "Honest" by Kendall Payne.



The sad thing about this is that I did get myself under control but in order to do that I had to build a wall around me and stop feeling. Sometimes I want to look behind the wall and see if those feelings are still there. But I'm not brave enough yet so we muddle on, rubbing along just fine but with no real emotion or passion. I sometimes wonder if there should be more than that but I think it suits me this way for now.

Femininity

All my life I have been a bit of a tomboy.

When I was younger we had horses and dogs and my Dad lived on a small holding with goats and chickens. At the age of 14 my hobby was shooting (targets I hasten to add and not fluffy live things), which was very much a male-dominated sport at the time, and at 16 I went to agricultural college. The girls were seriously outnumbered there - just 8 of us out of a total of 70-odd students and we were all the same. We had to be rough and tough to survive. My early career was spent working on dairy farms milking cows, tending sheep, calves and other animals. Feminine attire was just not something I even thought of wearing.

Throughout my twenties and thirties I strove to maintain that tomboy demeanour. When my career progressed and I worked in offices I had no choice but to wear skirts or smart trousers and jackets but I was never entirely comfortable in them and would shuck them off as soon as I got home in favour of jeans or sweatpants. Even my current job doesn't require me to dress up and the uniform is very much jeans, company logo'd poloshirt or sweatshirt, and boots.

I rarely wear make-up because it irritates my skin and styling my hair bores me rigid so I always kept it in a short, wash-and-go, crop.

I always wanted to be just one of the boys and something in my psyche thought that being more feminine would diminish me in some way, that I'd be less of a person in the eyes of "the boys". I think I just didn't want to be labelled as "girlie", I wanted to be taken seriously and that's what I thought would work.

It's taken until now, in my early forties, for me to realise that, actually, it is OK to have long hair and dress up when the occasion calls for it. Wearing a skirt if we go out somewhere for dinner or to a social evening is not going to mean anyone thinks any less of me, in fact, it's just the opposite.

Funny what growing up can do to you isn't it?

Wordless Wednesday

New toy!

I shall apologise in advance for being a bit of a camera nerd in this post. If you have no interest in photography whatsoever, you might want to go somewhere more interesting!

Last year I bought myself a second-hand Nikon D70. I already had a Pentax dSLR with a 18-55mm lens and a 50-200mm zoom and it suited me fine. I was happy with the pictures it took and how it felt in my hands. But the Nikon was one of those too good to be missed offers and it was a case of "want" rather than "need"! It came with a Nikkor 18-70mm 1:3.5-4.5G ED lens which really is a stunning lens for general use and takes some cracking shots.

But the areas of photography that I most enjoy are candid and reportage, and for that you really need a zoom lens. I had tried out a friend's Canon 20D with a 70-300mm zoom.....and boy did I want the Nikon equivalent lens! I could have picked one up for about £70 but that was just a standard lens and I decided that, because of the weight of the lens, I needed to have VR on it - that's vibration reduction or image stabilisation - to help reduce any element of camera shake. Unfortunately that sent the price up to over £400, and I couldn't afford that.

Then two things happened. I got a Christmas bonus and I found the lens online at OneStop Digital at under £300. I'm cautious about buying expensive stuff online but quite a few people on the photography forum that I use, Pixalo, had used them and they came highly recommended. Dear reader, I crumbled and bought it. And it's arrived! I am now the proud owner of a Nikon AF-S Nikkor 70-300mm f/4.5-5.6 G IF-ED VR Lens. I want to go and play, but unfortunately the British weather doesn't and it is chucking it down with rain and blowing gale here.

Which is just an incy wincy bit frustrating.

Fun Monday #4

Ann over at For The Long Run is hosting Fun Monday today and this is what she wants to hear.

I want to hear about a web site and not just about any old web site. I want to hear about a web site that's changed your life. A web site that you can't live without. A web site whose inventor you'd like to see win a McArthur Genius Grant. Maybe you want to sing the praises of a dating web site for helping you meet your spouse. Maybe the only thing getting you through the dark days of winter is an Internet comic. No story is too big, no story is too small - I want to hear it all on Monday.

There are two websites which have changed my life. Not in any ground-breaking, earth-shattering way, but quietly changed my life over the course of time, although the first did have something of a big bang effect not long after it entered my life.

The first, I am ashamed to admit, has been lost in the mists of my mind and I can't even remember what it was called. At the time I was riding a lot and so joined this equine website which had a forum. This was about 11 years ago and I was pretty new to the whole web thing then and didn't really have a clue about what I was doing. Alongside the forum was a chat room and quite a few people would meet up in there for a chat at lunch time. Four or five of us hit it off and friendships started to develop as we met online more regularly. We didn't know each other from Adam but we all had one thing in common, our love of horses.

I ventured into the chat room one day, hoping some of the girls would be around for a chat. Instead, there was only one person in there, a woman I'd never met before, and she was in a desperate state. He beloved horse had just died suddenly and she was completely bereft. So bereft that I was seriously concerned for her well-being. I kept her chatting whilst quickly e-mailing my friends to get online fast because I needed them in the chat room asap. We spent the next couple of hours helping Stardust deal with her grief and out of those few hours, fast friendships were formed.

A few of us lived reasonably close to each other and we started to meet up. First me and Ali, then Niki, then Sara and Caroline and Em. We met Lynn a couple of times as she lived further away and Caroline and Yvonne we have yet to meet as they live in Scotland. Although Stardust came over from her home in South Africa for a visit....what a heady few days they were!

For reasons I cannot remember, we were christened The Crazy Gang and the Gang still exists today although we don't see each other as often as we'd like we still have our own message board to keep in touch with each other. Niki and Ali remain my closest friends.....friends I can turn to whenever I need a shoulder. Even if we haven't spoken for months and months, we all know we are at the end of a phone for each other. This is the three of us at Himself's 50th birthday party last year (that's me on the right).


Our lives have diverged over the years but we've been with each other through birthdays, marriages, childbirth, health issues and death. We have had several mass gatherings, mainly at Em's house as she has lots of room, and it's great because all our partners enjoy each others company too and we have had some very fun times together. Long may it continue!








The second website that has had a major effect on my life is, of course, Greyhound Gap. I had crossed paths with Lisa from time to time around a couple of dog rescues websites but didn't really know her very well. Then one day I received an e-mail from Lisa saying she was setting up Greyhound Gap. I mooched about their forum for a while and then along came Lurcher No.2. He was one of Gap's first rescue dogs and I won't details the story of how he came to live with us because I've done that several times already in this blog. Tyler enriched our lives so much that I felt very strongly that I wanted to be able to give something back. The then treasurer was emigrating and having to give up the role and I offered to take over the role. Gap wasn't a very big organisation then and I remember thinking that surely it couldn't be that difficult to write a few cheques and keep basic records! But Gap has grown and grown. It has a vast number of fantastic supporters, without whom Gap could not function, and many of them have become close friends. Gap is now a registered charity and with anything between 50 and 60 dogs in our care, it takes up a fair amount of my spare time dealing with all the donations that we receive and paying anything between 20 and 30 vet bills every month! But I wouldn't give it up for the world. It has become it's own community with a lot of like-minded people always there for anyone who needs help and support, whether they have dog-related problems or personal ones. Like the Crazy Gang, Gap has also seen people through marriages, childbirth, health problems and death. It is a network of people who care and it has totally changed my life. Long may it continue too.

Don't forget to check out all the other Fun Monday blogs - there's a list over at For The Long Run.



This blog is posted in memory of Queen Bea, Lisa's much loved Greyhound, who went to the Bridge very suddenly yesterday afternoon. At only five years old, she was taken from Lisa much too soon. Forever in our thoughts.

I wonder if I can stay awake...

Astronomers have announced that a giant cloud of hydrogen gas is racing towards a collision with the Milky Way. Smith's Cloud, as it is known, may set off spectacular fireworks when it smacks into our galaxy.

In 20-40 million years time.

Oh and don't worry if you're not feeling up to watching on the night, it should last several millennium.

That's alright then.

Maternal instincts. Or not .

This morning I was reading RDHmom's blog about her and her husband's journey to have children. I'm finding the insight into the emotions of someone desperate to have children incredibly interesting.

You see, ever since I was old enough to understand what reproduction was all about, I have always known that I did not want to have children. I do not know if the maternal gene just passed me by, whether my fear of pain meant that the thought of giving birth scared the pants off me (or, more literally, not!) or my mother's dire warnings of what would happen if I ever became pregnant. The latter, of course, was meant as a deterrent against having sex as a teenager, rather than not ever becoming pregnant, but I think that one backfired on her a bit because it certainly worked and she has only just got over the fact that she won't have grandchildren. It was also a bit ripe considering she fell pregnant with me at 19 before she got married but I guess she just didn't want me to repeat her mistakes. Not that she regretted having me but it meant she had to give up her nursing training and that, I think, she did regret.

There have been times when I have had the odd twinge, particularly if there is a newborn around, but within seconds the reality of having a screaming little person relying on me for every need comes crashing into my brain and the twinges soon disappear. Add to that the fact that I simply do not understand children. I cannot relate to them on any level at all. And they always cry if I hold them!

So not having this driving need for children, it has always been difficult for me to understand the emotional pain that couples who want children, but can't, must go through. I have been known to say in the past that I could not understand why those who are not able to have children just can't accept that there is a good reason why they can't, whether it be medical or indeed, divine, if you are of a religious mind, and move on. Now that I am older I can see the callousness in that statement and realise that it's not quite that simple. Having a driving biological need to do what it is we are here to do and not being able to fulfill that need must be absolutely heartbreaking.

Wet dogs. Bloody ears.

Sometimes you just know that when you wake up at some unearthly hour of the morning, you are simply not going to get back to sleep. I woke up just before 5am and was wide awake. I lay there for a while in the vain hope that I'd drop back off to sleep and at 6am decided to get up.

Just as I was getting my coat on to take The Lurchers out for an early morning walk, it started to rain. And then some. The Lurchers don't care and I was wrapped up with my wellie boots on so we went anyway. It was so lovely and peaceful with not another soul in sight and that meant The Lurchers could let rip. Lurcher play gets rough. It's just how they are but when they really get playing they make a lot of noise with much baring of teeth and if there are other dog-walkers about you can see them looking and wondering why on earth I'm letting my dogs fight. You smile and say "They're just playing, honest" but you can see the doubt in their eyes as they turn and walk the other way anyway!

The thing about wet dogs though is that when you get home, they shake water everywhere. Except this morning that water was red. The play obviously got a bit too rough and Lurcher No. 1 has nicked Lurcher No.2's ear. If you have dogs you'll probably know that even the smallest scratch on ears bleed copiously. Lurcher No.2 now has a pink neck and I have matching pink pebble-dashed walls. And pink is so not my colour.

How good is your geography?

Mine, I can tell you, is absolutely useless!

A friend sent me this link and I'm not sure that I can quite forgive her. Traveller IQ Challenge. Apart from showing up my complete lack of geography knowledge (Himself was in hysterics watching my efforts last night) it is completely addictive! And I can still get no further than Level 6!

Under the Weather

I was going to just write a quick post to apologise for not getting round all the blogs I should be getting round. I am feeling absolutely crap today as the cold virus that's doing the rounds has finally caught up with me. So if you have visited my blog, and I know a few new faces have, I will be round to return the compliment very soon, I promise!

So that's what I was going to do but as I wrote it, it struck me that what an odd phrase "under the weather" is. We are all, technically, under the weather all the time given that the weather is up in the sky and that is very definitely above us. So I googled the phrase and I cna now share its origins with you.

"Under the weather" is a nautical term that was originated, I believe, in the British navy. When a sailor was ill, he was kept below decks, and thus, under the weather.

Moreover, the deck they were under was likely "the weather deck", meaning the most exposed deck on the ship, usually the foredeck (over the seamen's quarters at the front end of the ship) or the quarterdeck (where the helm was located, high for a good view). Either way, if you needed to be sick, you wouldn't want to "toss your cookies" where the wind could toss them back in your face, nor would anyone with you want you to do so. You'd be firmly told to "under the weather" to be sick.

There you go and don't say you never learn anything by stopping by here!

Petography

Following on from Yesterday's Fun Monday, here's the prequel that should have been part of yesterday's post got a bit unwieldy!

As a family, we got our first dog when I was about 2 years old. Now, there's something you have to know first. My father was, and probably still is for all I know and, indeed, for all I care (and there's another blog story in there that I must tell you one day), the sort of man for whom big was always best so there were no little powder puff dogs for us. Oh no. We went straight in for one of the biggest dogs around. A Pyrrenean Mountain Dog. And there the sarcasm will end because we're getting serious now.

Quella was adorable and adored. Quella was a brood bitch and had been involved in an accident of some sort. I'm hazy on the details but I think it involved a barbed wire fence. She lost the litter of puppies she was carrying and also had to be neutered (now ain't that a shame). As she was no longer of any use to the breeder, she came to live with us. I loved that dog. She put up with all the things that no dog with a toddler around should have had to put up with and, for such a large dog, the situation could have been disastrous but she took it all in good grace and started me on the road of my love for dogs.

My mother in particular loved that dog and when my parents divorced, I'm sure my father took great pleasure in making sure he got custody of Quella. My mother was heart-broken.

As the family went it's two separate ways, I had two dog families. One bonus I guess. My mum gave a home to Sheeva, a labrador/alsation cross, apparently, and she was the main feature of my life as I grew up. I loved that dog too and she also put up with more than her fair share of teenage tantrums but she was always there at the end of my bed offering the sort of comfort that only dogs can.

My father, meanwhile, carried on his large tradition with a St Bernard. Complete with brandy barrel. There is something very adorable about a dog with few brain cells. But when that dog is a St Bernard, you are in for a whole bunch of trouble! He blundered and blustered his way through his life and left me with some very happy memories!

The problem with large, pedigree dogs is that they have a short life span. So it seemed that in next to no time, Sir Jasper arrived. Sir Jasper was a Great Dane. It was about this time that the relationship between my father and I started to fall apart so I have few memories of Jasper, other than that he had a tail that could cut anything clean in two with one sweep.

Back to my Mum, Sheeva passed away quietly in her sleep and I was devastated. The one constant of my teenage years was no longer with me. We waited several months and then headed off to our nearet rescue and came home with Ben, a Border Collie. He was a 12 week old puppy when he came to us and lived to a ripe old age of 17. He was a dog on his own that one. He could scale 8 foot walls and disappear for hours on end...and we still have no idea of where he went to but he always came home. I shudder to think of that now. We were so blase about it.

And there ended my childhood and adolescence with dogs. I moved away from home and in my busy life I had no time, nor the stability, to offer a dog a home. They were barren years.

Then I moved in with Himself. And Himself had Cisco. The Queen Mum as she was known to our friends! A mutt of so many crosses that it was impossible to pinpoint any single one of them. Please excuse the terrible picture but it's been scanned in.


Cisco and Himself were inseperable. He rescued her from a squat and they spent every living and breathing moment together. She would, from time to time, acquiese to letting me look after her but made it abundantly clear that she was only biding time until Himself came home. She too lived to the ripe old age of 17 but her last year was painful. We were on holiday in Cornwall and she fell 5ft off a wall and we believe, although we can never be certain, that she suffered some brain damage as a result. She became a little senile and incontinent and started to have fits. To my lasting shame I can see now that we let her go on for too long. We kept thinking we could see an improvement but, of course, we were kidding ourselves. The day she passed to the Bridge will stay with me forever. The vet came to us at home and we were all in floods of tears. Himself called all our friends to tell them the news and I don't think we have ever grieved so much for anyone - human or canine.

That evening there was a tentative knock at the door. Friends had driven 5o miles to see us. Fearing we wouldn't want company they didn't want to stay, they just wanted to make sure Himself was OK. But we invited them in and they produced a bottle of whiskey and we all proceeded to get very very drunk. We spent the evening alternating between crying and fits of laughter at the memories we all had of her. A more fitting send off I could not imagine.

Fun Monday #3

Lisa at Lisa's Chaos is our host for this week's Fun Monday. This is want Lisa wants to know about:

Let’s meet your pets. I think most of us have at least one pet and I would like to see your fluffy or scaly pal. If you don’t have a camera you can tell us about him/her/them. If you don’t have a pet tell us about a pet you had or a pet you want. If for some weird reason you hate all animals we want to know why gosh-dang-it.

Ooooh now are we on a subject close to my heart!! I could, and indeed did, write a very long blog about all the pets that I have had the good fortune to share my life with but it was so long that I would have lost you all before you reached the halfway mark so I have decided to focus on The Lurchers and save the rest for another blog. Suffice to say that, except for a few lean years when I was at college and getting my career off the ground (hah!), there have always been dogs in my life.

Lurcher No.1 came, surprisingly, first. Himself had always wanted a hairy grey lurcher. So we set about finding one. Except that the first lurcher pup we came across was Georgie. And once I'd set eyes on her there was no way we were going home without her. And she was not grey. Or hairy. She was smooth coated and black and white. Hey ho!

Day 1.

Georgie is my soul dog. She is such a character and there is no doubt in my mind that she has been here before...in human form. It almost seems like she gets so frustrated sometimes at not being able to say what she wants to say! She is a dream of a dog...so laid back that nothing fazes her for a minute. She likes to think she's top dog but really can't be bothered to enforce it so just kicks back and enjoys herself! She loves people and considers herself to be a real “meet and greet” dog, particularly if she comes to work with me when she has to say hello to everyone that walks through the door. She’s also a smiler, baring her teeth in an enthusiastic grin when she meets old human friends. She is much more a people dog than a dog dog, preferring the company of people over other dogs.

And now? And now she is hairy!

And then came Lurcher No.2. Tyler.

Day 1

Georgie might be my soul dog but Tyler is my heart dog. I love my dogs equally but Tyler has stolen that little centre of my heart. Georgie is so confident and sure and can look after herself whatever the situation but Tyler is much less confident and finds some situations stressful. He just pushes my “look after me” button!

Possibly my favourite photo of The Lurchers

Tyler is a rescue from Greyhound Gap and didn’t get the best start in life which I think affected his confidence and ability to interact with other dogs. But he is also goofy and funny and makes me giggle at some of his antics.

And now…

My dogs are my everything and their needs are put first above everything else in my life. I cannot put into words what they mean to me and how much I love them. There just are no words to express feelings that deep.

A lurcher, by the way, is a crossbred Sighthound. The cross will be between a Greyhound, Whippet, Deerhound or a Saluki AND a Terrier (usually a Bedlington or a Border) or a border Collie or a Staffordshire Bull Terrier. Those are the traditional crosses but there aremany crosses these days that can be called "lurcher" but the undelying rule is that there must be a sighthound in there. Georgie, for example, is Greyhound x Saluki x Border Collie x Bearded Collie so she is quite thickset for a lurcher. Tyler, on the other hand, is a Greyhound x Deerhound with, we believe, some Border Collie and he is very much the classic sighthound build - long legs and deep chested.

Don’t forget to go over to Lisa’s Chaos and catch up with all the other Fun Monday blogs!

Have to blog. Have to blog...

Having signed up to Blog 365 I have to blog something. Except I am so brain-dead today after last night's party that I have nothing to say that could be of any interest to anyone. So instead you can have a couple of photographs that I took last year and have just been having a play with. Enjoy a little reminder of warmer days!

Vets

I am lucky to have a fantastic vet to care for The Lurchers. We've used them for over 20 years with various pets that have come and gone and I trust their judgement when it comes to what care my pets need. Both partners in the surgery are superb and the support staff second to none. It also helps that one of the partners gave a home to Lurcher No.2's litter mate after they both came into Greyhound Gap's care and we're considered family!

Nothing is too much trouble for them and, having been so spoilt, it came as something of a surprise to realise that other vets wrap themselves in as much beauracracy as the National Health Service.

The downside of our vet practice is that they are not the closest to us and neither do they offer a 24 hour emergency service. Clients are referred to another surgery that is even further away. So when we moved to our cottage just over a year ago, I rang the veterinary surgery that is closest to us and explained that whilst I didn't want to change vets I wanted to know that I could use them in case of an out of hours emergency. No problem they said, you can just come in if the need arises.

Imagine my surprise when I rang them on Sunday evening and was told that they couldn't see Lurcher No.2 as we were not registered with a vet that referred to them for emergency cover. Sorry and all that but you have to go to wherever your vet refers. So I had to drive Lurcher No.2 20 minutes to the other emergency vet instead of 2 minutes up the road.

When I rang the surgery the next day to voice my complaint, I was told in no uncertain terms that that was the choice I had made as a pet owner i.e. to choose to use a vet surgery further away rather than consider the implications of having to travel in the case of an emergency.

That left me a bit dumbfounded and wondering whether I'm putting my own desire to have The Lurchers treated by a vet I know and trust ahead of their needs should an emergency arise.

It's really not good to be pondering things like this at 1am, it really does your head in.

Why?

Why, at my age, am I still getting spots?

And why do I always get a big red corker of a spot two days before a big, posh party?

I mean...I exfoliate, I wash, I cleanse, I moisturise. So why does my skin think it's forty-something going on 15? I'd tell myself it's my youthful complexion acting youthful but that would be wishful thinking.

Pah!

Branching Out

Greyhound Gap, whilst focusing on rescuing greyhounds and lurchers, does occasionally take in other waifs and strays that find themselves needing a home for some reason. Usually because a pet owner has passed away and will have dogs other than sighthounds, or perhaps cats, budgies and apparently even a sheep. Or because some idiot *spits out that word* advertises hamsters on Freecycle.

Lisa and I both have a soft spot for hamsters. We've both kept them over the years and they don't deserve to be given away in Freecycle like an unwanted bit of furniture. So we are taking in a group of male dwarf hamsters and some of them will be coming to live with me!

It'll be nice having hammies around again, they offer hours of endless entertainment and for such little creatures, they have oodles of personality! Himself hasn't put up any argument, although I did tell him when he was half asleep *whistles nonchalantly*.

Piling on the Pounds

Earlier this year I did extremely well in losing 18 excess pounds of weight and managed to get myself down to 9st 13lb (139 lbs) which was the lowest I had been in over 20 years. I knew I wouldn't be able to stay at that weight as that had been a real effort but when I leveled out at 10st 2lb (142lbs) I was happy.

Then, in the run up to Christmas, that weight started to creep up and two weeks before Christmas I weight in at 10.5st (147lb). I absolutely refused to get on the scales over Christmas - I knew I'd piled even more weight on - I could feel it in the tightness of my clothes - and what was the point of stressing myself out about it over the holidays?

But we're back to reality this morning and, taking a very deep breath, I stood on the scales. Then got off them very rapidly. I've put on another 7lbs.

I blame Himself personally. He went shopping to buy all the drinks for Christmas and also decided to stock up on nibbles. "Nibbles" in his mind is four or five different boxes of after dinner mints, a tin of Heroes, several big bags of crisps and a selection box of chocolate biscuits. He knew I also had mince pies, ice cream, Christmas pudding, and two other alternative puddings plus one of our guests was bringing a pudding and that all our other visitors would be contributing something to the growing food mountain. It's being from a large family that does it. He's one of eight children and I suppose you must get used to dealing in quantity don't you?

And yes, I know I didn't have to eat it. But it's there isn't it? He knows my will power is zero when we have chocolate in the house and that I can't abide waste. It's all his fault. Definitely.

We have a black tie function to go to next Saturday and my dress, which fitted where it touched 7lbs ago, is not likely to be able to be done up. Or, if it is, is going to have some rather unsightly bulges.

So that's it. I am well and truly back on the diet. 7lbs in three days? Not likely is it?

*Aoj goes off to rummage through the wardrobe to find bigger dress*

I present this blog..........

.....to you from the comfort of my bed. It's been a long few days with precious little sleep on Sunday night with Lurcher No.2 being poorly. So we are having a lie in. I'm perched on one end of the bed and Himself on the other and there are two comatose lurchers in between us. Not a bad way to start the new year really! Lurcher No.2 is much better this morning although still not 100% but he has eaten a little food which is a good sign.

So welcome to 2008! I hope all your celebrations went well and that you're not too hungover this morning. I always feel very optimistic on New Year's Day. It feels like the slate has been wiped clean and we can start all over again with a fresh, new year. I don't make resolutions....I never keep them so not much point although there are a few things I would like to achieve this year. Having also made quite a few new blog friends this year, I'm looking forward to seeing how everyone's year pans out! But that's just because I'm nosy!

I also seem to have been rash enough to sign up to Blog 365. Quite what possessed me I don't know but, be assured, you can expect lots of drivel from this blog this year!!

Fun Monday #2

I have to say that today is not starting out as a particularly Fun Monday. I had to rush to the emergency vet with Lurcher No.2 at 11.30pm last night for what I thought was an occurrence of colic. Not life threatening but he was in obvious pain and distress. The vet gave him a jab which seemed to ease things and he slept through as whatever they gave him also had a very mild sedative effect.

He's still not right this morning though and has some diarrhoea as well so I rang my normal vet and they asked to see him. Himself has just taken him down and, as he is still in some discomfort, the vet has decided to keep him in and x-ray just to rule out any blockage. So I am sitting here biting my nails until I hear more from the vet.

*Update: Lurcher No.2 is home and there is no blockage, just a possible gastric upset and lots of nasty gas in his stomach and colon. It all just has to work its way out of his system now and then he'll be a lot more comfortable.

However, I did start to put together my Fun Monday post yesterday evening so, although I'm not feeling particularly jovial, I can at least share these with you, even if there are not as many as I'd hoped to share.


This week's Fun Monday is hosted by Peter over at Holties House. As it's nearly the New Year, Peter wants us to end 2007 with a smile on our faces and wants to know our favourite jokes or cartoons.

I have heard some absolute howlers over the years but, unfortunately, my joke-retaining ability is way off the minus end of the scale and I can never remember them so here are a few that I do remember (or have written down) that absolutely make me chortle!



Silliest Joke. I've first heard this joke as a child and it still makes me giggle!

Why do elephants have big ears? Because Noddy won't pay the ransom.

Funniest Quotes. These are cheating slightly as they are not jokes but a friend sent me a list of quotes from examination papers and I always go and read it when I need to have a good belly laugh! This is just a few of the funniest:

What's a Hindu?
It lays eggs

Name the four seasons
Salt, mustard, pepper, vinegar

"Monotony means being married to the same person for all your life."

"What changes happen to your body as you age?
When you get old, so do your bowels and you get inter-continental"

"The body consists of three parts - the brainium, the borax and the abominable cavity. The brainium contains the brain, the borax contains the heart and lungs, and the abominable cavity contains the bowels, of which there are five - a, e, i, o and u."

"What are steroids?
Things for keeping the carpet on the stairs"

"What is a common treatment for a badly bleeding nose?
Circumcision"

"For Fainting: Rub the person's chest or, if a lady, rub her arm above the hand instead. Or put the head between the knees of the nearest medical doctor."

Definitions:

BENIGN...What you will be after you be eight
CAESAREAN SECTION...A district in Rome
COMA...A punctuation mark - a bit like a full stop
SEMI-COLON...Partial removal of the intestines
VACUUM...Large empty space where the pope lives
ENEMA...Someone who is not your friend
MAGNET...Something you find crawling on a dead cat
FIBULA...A small lie
MORBID...When there is a bigger offer
GERMINATION...The process of becoming a German
NODE...When you have known somebody for a long time
SEIZURE...A Roman Emperor
FERTILISATION...The fusing of the male with the female garments
TERMINAL ILLNESS...When you are ill at the airport
TIBIA...A country in North Africa
VARICOSE...Nearby
VEIN...Conceited

Have a Happy New Year everyone and head over to Holties House to see all the other Fun Monday Participants' posts!

That went well then

Despite my protestations that a surly teenager would not dictate my day, I actually had no need to protest. Everyone arrived about 2pm which was fne because my plans for a walk before lunch were scuppered by the fact that it was hissing down with rain.

This was the first time I have ever hosted Christmas lunch and it all went amazingly calmly. It all came together and dinner was served as near as dammit to 3pm...the only thing that didn't quite go according to plan was that my parnsips wouldn't crisp. A minor thing that really didn't bother me that much!

We opened presents, played games, ate some more and crashed out at about 11pm.

And not a single episode of a surly teenager. Laughs and smiles all day! With the highlight of the day undoubtedly being Lurcher no. 1 not being satisfied with opening her own presents so much that when our backs were turned she dived into the present pile and started opening everyone else's presents too!

Hope yours all went well too!

It's started!

I have just been having a conversation with my Mother-in-Law about tomorrow. She is picking up her eldest son and his daughter to bring them over to us for the festivities (sister-in-law is a nurse and working so she will come along later). When they arrive apparently depends on what time the daughter, a teenager, decides to get up. They've been saying this for weeks and I've taken it as a bit of a joke and assumed they would be here in good time to start the festive ball rolling at about midday or just after, and then sit down for lunch at 3pm. Apparently not. They'll get here whenever daughter decides to get up. I just hit the roof and made it quite plain that tomorrow is not about one person, her father will get her up and they will arrive in good time for drinks and a walk before dinner and not five minutes before I put dinner on the table.

My Christmas Day is NOT going to be dictated by a teenager.

Moving on to someting much more cheerful....... if there had been any doubt in my mind about whether or not Bridie was Tigerlily, it would have been swept away with the greeting that Jemima and Henry received when they got here! Tigerlily went mental when she saw them, with that greeting that's reserved for someone a dog loves very much. Her tail wouldn't stop wagging and she couldn't contain herself with excitement and once we got inside, she didn't leave their sides, coming back for more and more cuddles! It was a very tearful moment I can tell you!


































































I think their expressions say it all don't they!? ;D





























Merry Christmas everyone!!

A very happy ending!

It's strange how an innoccuous remark can lead to such an unexpected conclusion.

On Friday night, I mentioned to Lisa (who runs Greyhound Gap, the rescue I volunteer for) about how strange it was that no-one was looking for Bridie considering that someone had put in a lot of work with her as she was so well-trained and such a well-behaved dog. She showed no signs of having been mis-treated and she had obviously lived in a house before as she knew exactly what a sofa was for!

When a stray dog comes into Gap's care, Lisa always checks on the DogLost website in case they have been listed there. Doglost is a fantastic site that does so much to help re-unite missing pets with their owners. Although she had checked when Bridie first came into our care and there was no dog listed matching her description, Lisa decided to have another check. Much to our surprise, up popped a dog that matched Bridie to a tee. I spent all last night comparing all the markings on the dog in the photo to Bridie and there was no doubt in my mind, this was the same dog. She'd been registered on DogLost a week after she came to us and has been missing for two months.

So this morning I had the delightful job of ringing up the owners to let them know that I might possibly have their missing dog lying on my sofa.

There was shock, tears and a little upset that we wanted to check them out before we allowed Bridie to go home. But, as I explained to them, we needed to be sure that she was going back to a caring home and not to somewhere where she might be mistreated.

The Gap volunteers pulled out all the stops once again and one lovely lady dropped everything to drive 50 miles to visit Bridie's family. All is well and they are driving over to me tomorrow to pick up Bridie, or Tigerlily as we now know she is named, and take her home, just in time for Christmas.

I don't think any of us could have asked for a better Christmas present!

Be happy Tigerlily, we shall miss your puppy cuddles!

REM Sleep Paralysis

Have you ever experienced REM sleep paralysis?

Well, actually, you all have as it's a natural part of your sleep pattern so I suppose a better question is have you ever been aware of experiencing it? This particular sleep paralysis occurs when you are in the REM stage of sleep: the brain literally awakens internally during REM sleep. In a person with normal sleep behavior the REM sleep stage is one of near paralysis for the entire body other than the muscles of the eye and the middle ear. In this stage of sleep, you experience your most vivid dreams. The dreams that you are most likely to remember. And if you wake up, or, at least, think you wake up, you can't move.

It's happened to me several times now and each time is as scary as the last.

I remember the first time very vividly. It was a Sunday morning and Himself was going out early. I decided to have a lie-in and fell back to sleep. Next thing I am aware of is what I thought was Himself coming back in the room and lying on top of me, almost crushing me. But the bizarre thing was the feeling of complete and utter evil. Then the dawning realisation that I was awake, but I couldn't move. I remember screaming and then I woke up. Properly woke up. And I was on my own. Himself wasn't there at all. The feeling of dread I was left with was awful because you really do think you are awake and that your dream is real.

It happened once when Himself was lying in bed next to me awake and reading. He was apparently chortling to himself at the noises I was making in my sleep. To him it was gurgling and muttering. To me, paralysed and terrified in my REM dream because someone was trying to kill me, I was screaming at him to wake me up. When I did eventually wake up, I left him in doubt that if I were to ever start muttering in my sleep again, he was to wake me up and not leave me there whilst chuckling to himself.

But the strangest of these dreams happened to me last night. Again I thought I had woken up but this time I started to feel like I was having some sort of fit. My neck and shoulders were twitching like crazy......twitching isn't quite the right word but it's the closest I can find to describe the feeling. On top of that, I could feel and hear something rapidly gnawing at the side of my neck. I imagined it was some sort of gremlin but I couldn't move and I couldn't stop it and the only thought that was going through my head was that I was going to die. Yet one side of my brain was obviously awake and being rational and it kept telling me that I knew this was one of "those" dreams and that I had to wake myself up. Fortunately, the fingers of my left hand were resting on my right arm and through sheer determination I made my fingers pinch my skin to wake myself up.

Damn scary.

A Rescue Dog's Christmas Poem

If you wonder why I, and countless other people, keep on fostering despite the mixed feelings of joy and heartbreak when a you have to say goodbye to a foster, this is why.

Thank you Lisa for posting this and reminding us why we do what we can.

A Rescue Dog's Christmas Poem

Tis the night before Christmas and all through the town,
every shelter is full - we are lost, but not found,
Our numbers are hung on our kennels so bare,
we hope every minute that someone will care,
They'll come to adopt us and give us the call,
"Come here, Max and Sparkie - come fetch your new ball!!

But now we sit here and think of the days...
we were treated so fondly - we had cute, baby ways,
Once we were little, then we grew and we grew
now we're no longer young and we're no longer new.
So out the back door we were thrown like the trash,
they reacted so quickly - why were they so rash?
We "jump on the children:, "don't come when they call",
we "bark when they leave us", climb over the wall.

We should have been neutered, we should have been spayed,
now we suffer the consequence of the errors THEY made.
If only they'd trained us, if only we knew...
we'd have done what they asked us and worshiped them, too.
We were left in the backyard, or worse -let to roam-
now we're tired and lonely and out of a home.
They dropped us off here and they kissed us good-bye...
"Maybe someone else will give you a try."

So now here we are, all confused and alone...
in a shelter with others who long for a home.
The kind workers come through with a meal and a pat,
with so many to care for, they can't stay to chat,
They move to the next kennel, giving each of us cheer...
we know that they wonder how long we'll be here.
We lay down to sleep and sweet dreams fill our heads...
of a home filled with love and our own cozy beds.
Then we wake to see sad eyes, brimming with tears -
our friends filled with emptiness, worry, and fear.

If you can't adopt us and there's no room at the Inn -
could you help with the bills and fill our food bin?
We count on your kindness each day of the year -
can you give more than hope to everyone here?
Please make a donation to pay for the heat...
and help get us something special to eat.
The shelter that cares for us wants us to live,
and more of us will, if more people will give.

--Author Unknown

A Lurcher Tale. And a wreath.

There are days when any silly little thing can set my blood pressure going off the scale. There are days when I am perfectly happy and content and one silly person can send me from chilled to boiling in the space of 30 seconds. Today was one of those days.

I was walking home from work with Bridie, looking forward to an afternoon of pottering around at home. It was a lovely walk, the sun was shining and all the trees and grass where still covered in this morning's hoar frost.

In the distance I could see a chap walking a young Leonberger off lead. He was talking on his mobile phone and not paying a huge amount of attention to his dog. The dog came bounding over to us and started to torment Bridie, who is by now bouncing like a gazelle on the end of her lead and getting us all tied up in knots. I just stood still and calmly yelled at him to please get his dog under control as my dog was on a lead for a reason. He wanders over, still talking on his phone, and said "Oh he's just come to say hello".

That was it. The red haze descended and he got told the story that everyone else gets told when they say that to me. Whether they want to hear it or not.

Lurcher No. 2 has always been a flight dog. If he found himself in any situation where he was not comfortable, he ran. Not far, just far enough to get himself away from his perceived danger. Then two years ago he caught his foot on an exposed tree root and fractured and dislocated a toe. He was on lead walk for six weeks and do you think the local dog walkers kept their off-lead dogs away? Did they like hell.

When a flight dog can't run away he very quickly learns that the best form of defence is attack. The first year after his accident he was a nightmare. If any dog he didn't like the look of came near him he just launched himself at them, bearing his teeth and snarling. He never aimed to bite, just to warn but, nevertheless, it was still scary. So he had to be muzzled and we did a lot of work to get him back to how he was before. We never did get all the way and although he doesn't have to be muzzled all the time now, he still does have odd moments of regression.

So "just coming to say hello" can have a more profound effect than some stupid dog-owners realise and it's high time some of them realised that, around here, if a dog is on a lead, it's on a led for a damn good reason. Fortunately Bridie is a level-headed dog that didn't really give two hoots, she jsut wanted to play, but that's not the point is it?

There, I've had my say. So moving swiftly on. "Wreath" did someone say? Here you go then. It's not the most ornate in the world is it? And it's still missing a pine cone but I figured that that's how fate decreed my wreath should look. And who am I to mess with what fate decrees?

Despite my earlier misgivings, I made my Christmas wreath last night.

And you know what? I'm really rather pleased with it!

I would have taken a photograph for you but unfortunately one of the pine cones fell off when Himself hung it on the door. OK, so it doesn't stand up to close scrutiny but then anyone who wants to stand at my front door and closely scrutinise a Christmas wreath deserves all they get really. It more than stand up to a passing glance and that's all that matters!

My first Fun Monday!

This week's Fun Monday is being hosted by kitten and here's what she wants from us -



I think it would be neat to hear about the story behind your home and the road you live on. It doesn't have to be historical, maybe just something that stands out to you. It would be nice to have pictures to go with your little story. I also would like to know who has the oldest house. Whoever has the oldest house will get a little Christmas treat from little ole me.

I was fortunate that a change in my role at work last year coincided with the availability of a staff cottage. This meant that just over a year ago I picked up the keys to my tied cottage. The place was a shambles quite frankly as, although someone had been living in it, the previous tenant refused to have anything done to it whilst he lived in it and so nothing had been done for over 30 years and it needed complete modernisation. Fortunately Himself is very well-qualified in the DIY business as it's what he does for a living so he did most of the work himself. We had to replace rotten floor joists, get central heating and new plumbing installed and generally bring the place back up to standard that was comfortable. it was great beig able to choose a new kitchen and bathroom...and have someone else pick up the bill!








We're not entirely clear about it's history. We know there has been a building on the site since at least 1871, when my current employers took charge of the land. We can also presume that the cottage had a thatched roof as it is called Thatched Cottage.




In the early 1890s, the cottage was leased to the Ladies of the Royal Wimbledon Golf Club for use as a clubhouse. The photograph below shows them standing in what is now part of my back garden. I'm not sure if you can make it out but behind the ladies to the right of the picture is a section of darker colored brick...that is now my lounge window and our garden fence runs from just to the right of that porch.















You can just see the side of the porch in this picture here



The Ladies used the property as a Clubhouse until 1932. Once they vacated, the property was split into two cottages for use by the staff working on the Commons. In the mid-70s, the internal layout of the two cottages changed again when the master bedroom of my cottage was incorporated into the adjoining cottage as the member of staff living there had two children and needed the extra room.

The Cottage is tiny but it is, in my opinion, in the best location on the Common. It's remote and quiet and, despite living within 7 miles of Central London, we could be in the middle of nowhere. We love it here and it really feels like home. The only down side is that, being a tied cottage, I can't stay here once I retire. But that's a way down the road yet!

Christmas Spirit?

This blog was inspired by Patience's post here.

For years I have longed for Christmas to be special.

My childhood Christmases were not that special. Oh everyone tried, but divorced parents do not a happy Christmas make. They vied for who would have me for the day and I ended up being shunted from pillar to post over the holidays. My father always had to outdo everyone by buying me the most expensive presents, including a pony. Which was lovely and I was not ungrateful because I'd longed for a pony but even as an 11 year old, I could see the psychological game he was playing.

My mother, bless her heart, tried her best for someone bringing up a child as a single parent, but what 13 year old animal loving teenager wants a coney fur jacket for Christmas? She still tries her best but even when I was in my thirties she thought I was still the kind of person who'd just love a woolly jumper with cute little bears on it, or a fleece with cartoon ponies.

Somehow I also ended up living with someone who thinks Christmas is a load of baloney as well. He only enjoys getting together with his family, which is great and we do have fun with them, but because we were never at home for Christmas Day, he would never let me have a tree or any decorations. He is the worst person ever to buy presents for and he can't even pretend to be pleased with the gifts I buy. They're always a "waste of money" or "it's nice of you but I won't ever use it". Oh well, I suppose it's the season of good will and all that so I just look away and bite back the tears again.

But this year I decided it would be different. This year I am on duty on Christmas Day so we have to be at home. So this year I have a tree. It's only small but I had grand ideas of decorating it all with natural decorations. Pine cones and holly berries. Old-fashioned popcorn on cotton. Have you ever tried threading popcorn onto cotton? Don't. It's meassy, the popcorn is all the wrong shape and you eat twice as much as you manage to thread onto the cotton. So that idea went out of the window. And have you ever tried fixing wire to pinecones to hang them on the tree? If anyone ever suggest doing that, my advice would be to run. Very quickly. And don't look back.

Make my own wreath? I know I'm not artistic so why am I even trying? That's tomorrow night's job and I just know I'm going to be disappointed with myself again.

And the really big clanger we've dropped? Lights on the tree outside our gate. Himsef wanted blue lights. So blue lights I bought. They are bright. Very bright. I am rapidly coming to the conclusion that they are very, very crass. And I suspect we are going to be a laughing stock with the neighbours because of them. I've already taken them down once because Himself had all but thrown them at the tree and left them where they landed. And now I have to face telling him they are going to have to come down again.

It's selfish I know, to moan about such things, and to wish for it to be special for me when lots of people won't have even a smidge of a happy Christmas, but it's my blog and I'll whinge if I want to.

I shall feel better tomorrow no doubt. And at least it's not raining.

It's Saturday morning....

...and I really should be doing things, not sitting here catching up with blogland.

I really should be out walking the dogs but Lurcher No. 1 is roaching in bed with Himself. Lurcher No.2 is curled up on a dog bed next to the radiator and Bridie is lying on another bed quietly chewing a toy. It really seems a shame to disturb them.

I really should be making my Christmas decorations and going out to buy a tree but the thought of the massed hordes out there doing exactly the same thing this morning is making me curl up with dread. I need to put my wreath base into soak and go collect some holly so I can make it. Can I face the resulting punctured hands? Not yet.

I really, really should be cleaning the house and washing all the dog beds and sofa throws. But my electricity bill arrived this week and was three times what it normally is because Himself just chucks everything in the tumble dryer rather than hanging it out to dry. The thought of being surrounded by wet washing is not appealing but I can't face another electricity bill of that size.

I really should go shopping for food. The fridge is empty and the cupboards all but bare. The supermarket on a weekend before Christmas? Perhaps later.

So I shall sit here and contemplate my navel instead. There'll be plenty of time to panic later.

Sorry, wrong colour.

Bridie, my current foster, is perfect! We estimate she's roughly a year old, certainly no older, she's spotless in the house, good with other dogs, generally good on the lead, polite, learns quickly and would make someone a perfect companion.

The rescue had a home in mind for her and I had a good chat with her potential new family last night. This morning they have decided that she is not the dog for them. Why? She's the wrong colour. Words fail me.


I must also aplogise to all those whose blogs I usually frequent and comment on...life's been a little manic and I will catch up with you all soon I promise.

All Cried Out

Leaving Ruby in her new home yesterday has reduced me to a physical and emotional wreck. I've cried more in the last 24 hours than I have in years. The slightest thing can set me off......a sympathetic look from a friend, or a completely innocuous line in a Kate Campbell song. I suppose it does at least prove that I do have a heart in there somewhere, contrary to what I thought a few weeks ago, and I do care. So I spent last night cuddling the Lurchers and weeping into their furry necks, seeking solace in my love for them.

Everyone tells you that they've gone on to a loving home and it was the best home possible and now there's room for another waif and stray that needs a warm and comfortable sofa and some TLC. Well, yes. My head knows that. My heart and my tear glands haven't quite caught up.

But now I have to pull myself together because I have no time to indulge my sorrow. My new foster girl has arrived and she needs me in one piece, not in bits. She is Bridie, a young brindle lurcher girl, who despite being abandoned and left to die in the pound, has oodles of love and cuddles to give.

Goodbye Ruby Tuesday!

Ruby, our foster Greyhound, is off to her new home tomorrow. She's been with us for three months now and in true Greyhound style, has wormed her way into our hearts. I didn't realise quite how much until I knew she was going.

Goodbye Ruby Tuesday. Be happy sweetheart!

This is a little montage I put together of her time with us. Crank up the volume and reach for the tissues.....

Make video montages at www.OneTrueMedia.com

This one is.....

....just for Stu and Plume. Alhough you can all enjoy it too if you'd like!

Carol of the Goat Bells

Tagged!

Graham, Prince & Tilly Too! have tagged me to give five random facts about myself, so here we go....

Rules: Link to the tagger and post these rules on your blog. Share 5 facts about yourself on your blog, some random, some weird. Tag 5 people at the end of your post by leaving their names as well as links to their blogs. Let them know they are tagged by leaving a comment on their blog.

I am time-obsessive. I always have to know what the time is, even if I wake up in the middle of the night I have to check the clock. If I'm in danger of being late, I break out into a cold sweat and start to panic. About 10 years ago I stopped wearing a watch in an effort to break the habit - it helped a little, but not much!

I hold a valid Heavy Goods Vehicle licence and can drive anything up to, but not including, an articulated lorry (I think that's a semi to my American readers!)

I am a Reiki Master

I have a phobia of ladders. No problem with heights, just don't like getting to them via a ladder.

I'm allergic to aspirin. It gives me a migraine!

OK I'll tag Flowerpot, Laurie at Three Dog Blog, Em at Mirrorshards, Dogga and Andre at Existential Delight

Last night we met a man.....

...and this is what we learned about him:

He was a Bedouin from Morocco.
He grew up in Casablanca.
He'd spent some years in France and Switzerland.
He came to London for a holiday to distract himself from the death of his grandmother.
He stayed.
He met his wife in Switzerland through a holiday romance.
They met again by chance when he came to London.
They married two weeks later.
They have two daughters.
They have two grandsons.
Both are blonde and blue-eyed which raised some eyebrows on their recent trip through Europe with him (think Madelaine McCann and you'll understand why)
One of daughter's has a father in law who's a crook and spent some time at Her Majesty's pleasure.
He has been a chef.
He once earned £100,000 a year.
How much his VW Transprter cost him. How long he'd had it and all its advantages.
He's a Muslim but thinks this business of the teacher and the bear named Mohammed is something of an over-reaction.
He worked for the Saudi Royal family.

We didn't meet him at the party. He was our cab driver for the 10 minute journey home. What is it with cab drivers that they can share their life history with you in such a short space of time!!?

If you happen to pass by this blog Mr Cab Driver, make sure you're our driver next time because I really want to hear the rest of your story, it was fascinating!