The Dog Walker

So, so, tired

2009-12-01T19:48:00.003Z

The Dog Walker has not died - that would be preferable to life at the moment! As soon as work is a little less exhausting, he'll return to blogging.

Capital idea?

2009-09-27T15:45:00.005+01:00

Generally, I try to avoid going to London - nasty, dirty place - but a niece's birthday dinner dragged me there recently.

Nice meal, good company, horrible journey home on a packed tube (everyone in my village is in bed by 11.30pm, not travelling home on a very crowded underground - though that would be difficult as we don't have the underground, or come to that a bus, at that time of night).

We had dinner at Strada, in the shadow St Paul's Cathedral. It was the first time I've been close to St Paul's and though I thought it was a fantatstic sight (well, what I could see of it in the dark), I always imagined the dome being bigger - what a philistine I am.

Anyway, it gave me the chance to take some pictures!

Hidden gem

2009-08-20T18:52:00.011+01:00

We've visited Saffrion Walden a number of times over the years and like its streets of lovely higgeldy piggeldy cottages, but it seems we've always missed its hidden gem - Bridge End Gardens.

What a delightful corner of the town.

One of the seven gardens

It's a series of interlinked gardens laid out in Victorian times and now gradually being restored.
Mrs DW is not a great gardener and the youngest boy is no gardener at all, but we all enjoyed out visit. The highlight for them was the maze - not large but quite tricky for directional dimwits like us. I particularly like the walled garden - very much a work in progress, but my sort of garden. It has a wonderful 'Plant Theatre', where the best blooms and plants are displayed.

The plant theatre

The seating in the garden is very simple, but is really effective.

Very near to the gardens is a memorial to US airmen killed while stationed nearby - quite a simple affair, but quite touching when you start reading all the lists of names. Also nearby is an excllent playground which Master DW enjoyed very much.

Combined with a very nice coffee at Costa and a little explore, picking out the houses we'd like (including the very grand and ancient looking YHA), it was a very pleasant way to kill and afternoon.

A rather constipated-looking 'beast' guards

the entrance to one of the gardens

Saffron Walden's rather grand youth hostel

Scumbags!

2009-07-11T12:11:00.002+01:00

What an utterly crap world we live in - four members of the DW family were victims of crime this week, all in the space of 24 hours.

The two DW girls are on holiday in Thailand and on the same evening, the elder had her bag slashed and cash and cards stolen from it and the younger one - on her first proper holiday without us there - had her drink spiked. The friend they're travelling with also had her drink spiked.

Luckily, whatever the lowlife scum put in their drinks just made them throw up and it doesn't seem to have had any major effect. But who'd do such a thing? Words can't describe what I think about someone so twisted,

And despite losing her cash, cards and driving licence, the older DW also had some luck in that her passport was in the hotel safe.

We now just want them to get home safely.

Mrs DW's pensioner parents returned home after a two-hour shopping trip to find they'd been burgled (for the third time). Presumbably it was someone just looking for easy drug money - apart from creating a horrible mess, they took just jewellery and cash.

And, of course, it's no surprise that they're still waiting for the local plods to turn up - despite the DW oldies being nearly 80, feeling a bit fearful and not sure whether they can start tidying up and repairing the damage.

Finally, one of the DW boys has been on a school camp this week and he had money stolen from his tent - a pretty minor crime in the scheme of things, but probably most worrying because it's rather horrible that 12-year-old boys think it's okay to steal from someone they know. In this case, however, someone had a consience and dobbed in the little gits. I suppose when they're old enough they can set out for a new life in Thailand.

What sort of world have we created for our kids?

A welcome visitor

2009-07-04T20:24:00.002+01:00

Hopefully this little chap is eating lots of slugs, though I still find lots (to the delight of the chickens!)

He has lovely eyes . . .

On closer inspection

2009-07-04T20:09:00.002+01:00

I never really think my garden looks that great. It's made up by too many plants that flower or look their best at different times of the year - there's never a spectacular moment when everything peaks.

But having said that, there's lots of plants and flowers that are beautiful in their own right, so it's nice going round the garden and taking pictures of the individuals - never mind that the overall effect is (to me) disappointing.

A dead end . . .

2009-07-04T19:44:00.003+01:00

I love councils - the elected members are, by and large, individuals who want to do the best they can for the people who elect them, the officers are (probably) intelligent and highly qualified, but the result of their combined efforts are often just plain stupid.

I came upon the sign above on one of my slightly longer Sunday walks with the hound. On the face of it, it's quite sensible - warning motorists of possible delays while council staff or contractors spend eight days working on a stretch of road.

That's fine, but this particular road (a farm track really) is a dead end. It serves one property. In the five years that I've walked this route (admittedly, usually on Sunday mornings), I've seen three cars and two bicycles using it - one of those was someone who'd turfed their dog out at one end and drove along with the animal trotting behind.

Who decided it was a good idea to spend eight days working on this road? A good use of resources?

I don't mind paying my Council Tax. I figure it's part of living in a civilised society that we all contribute. But I do sometimes wonder if councillors and officers on local authorities realise they are spending other people's hard-earned money and that we deserve at least a little common sense applied to their decisions.

Eight days of work on a dead end road serving one property, common sense, I think not!

By the way, in case you can't read the sign, the prats in this particular case are Cambridgeshire County Council.

Rant over. The reason I took the picture was that I thought it was funny that they should warn of delays on a road used by the inhabitants of one small bungalow.

Birds of a feather . . .

2009-06-22T22:05:00.003+01:00

The mother-in-law's parrot - a vicious old bird . . . and the parrot's not much better!

arc-adia

2009-06-12T22:33:00.003+01:00

I know it's not universally liked, but I think the Debenham's store on the arc in Bury St Edmunds is a great building - its curves juxtaposed against the angularity of the other buildings is fantastic.

I'm not sure about the development as a whole, though - it all seems a bit crammed on.

Jolly boating weather . . .

2009-06-07T18:00:00.009+01:00

Last weekend, when the weather was warm and sunny, we went to Flatford Mill and Dedham - Constable country.

We weren't sure what to expect - Mrs DW used to go there a lot as a child, but not recently, and I'd been there once abour 25 years ago. We rather expected it to be awash with American and Japanese tourists. However, we arrived quite early and it was surprisingly quiet and peaceful.

Since there was no queue, we decided to go for a boat ride on the River Stour. A little electric boat took us up the river from Flatford towards Dedham for 15 minutes, turned around and brought us back.

It was a bit 'twee', but the boys enjoyed it and the two 'crew' were quite amusing (inadvertantly). Mrs DW was slightly miffed to be asked to change seats for 'weight distribution' but said this was due to the large couple who followed us on, rather than her.

Boat trip on the Stour

Pirates ahoy

Egyptian goose (apparently)

Canada geese and goslings

After the boat ride, we sat by the river and consumed the coffee ad cake we'd brought with us. DW was a bit greedy, but no point carrying a few odd cakes with us for the rest of the day!

Then, along the riverbank to Dedham, which was very pleasant and enlivend by a herd of young catte which came bounding (do cows bound?) towards us. This wouldn't have been a problem, but the people on the boat trip had said that the weekend before, there had been a huge stampede when a woman let her Rottweiller dog off the lead.

Dedham's a beautiful, picture postcard village, only spoiled by the traffic and the rather large number of chavs gathered along the riverbank there (mostly from Essex, I'd guess) - one family every 10 metres.

Swan at Flatford Mill

Having said that, we were then a bit chavvy ourselves - stopping at the very nice Little Chef near Stowmarket for a 'chippy' tea. That's once we'd found it! We felt a bit sorry for the place - it used to be right on the A14 but now the new section of road has been built it's a bit off the beaten track.

Catching up

2009-05-30T13:52:00.005+01:00

The collared doves have successfully hatched and raised two chicks. This picture was taken a couple of days ago, but the chicks left the nest today. Theyr'e currently sat looking a bit miserable on next door's pergola.

The nice weather has meant plenty of walks with the hound and pottering in the garden - I've also recently taken on an allotment, but more of that at a later date.

Highlight of a recent early morning walk was coming face to face with a fox family - a vixen and two cubs. Of course, it was sod's law that I had just put the macro (close-up) lens on my camera, so the shots I got of the two cubs - mum saw me first and did a runner - are a bit crappy.

The cub in the the foreground was obviously a bit confused when mum disappeared and, for a moment, I think it thought J was its mother and came bounding towards us. It then realised its mum was not black and white and would probably not be straining at the end of a lead (just a reminder that J is half foxhound!).

On the same walk, we came across this man-made rainbow. The colours and patterns changed as the crop sprayer swivelled around. I was quite mesmerised and stopped to watch for quite a while.

Not too far away is a turf farm, which has this run of power cables crossing it. I pass it quite regularly and I've noticed that the poles have started to lean more and more - I don't think I'd want to have to rely on these for my electricity supply. A decent gale in the winter and they'll be over.

Couple more pictures from recent walks - I love the straight lines created by farming and some of the smallest, most insignificant flowers can be beautiful when studied closely.

Finally, for now, a rose in my garden, backlit by the sun.

Sky's the limit

2009-05-12T22:14:00.002+01:00

After many attempts, a pair of collared doves have successfully built a nest behind our Sky dish.

They don't strike me as being the most intelligent of birds, but they're certainly indefatigable - there was a bigger pile of twigs and stems on the ground underneath than on the nest, but they kept going.

The hen (presumably) has been glued to the next for the last couple of weeks, so we don't know if there are eggs yet.

I don't think our cat can get at them (possibly out of the window, along the guttering and down a rope into the nest, but probably not - especially since he isn't too bright ,either). But if a chick did fall to the ground, it wouldn't last long!

Birthday boy

2009-05-12T21:52:00.008+01:00

Dog Walker celebrated his birthday at the weekened - still a fortysomething, but only just!

Mrs DW insisted on a special treat (no, not that sort), so we went to Kew Gardens for the day. It was the first time we'd been and had a great time - what a wonderful place.

The weather was good, so there were a lot of people about, but the gardens are surprisingly big so it didn't seem crowded. There are lots of little nooks and crannies where you can sit in peace and not be bothered too much.

I took lots of pictures, some of which were even in focus . . .

A load of bull(rushes)

2009-04-10T18:09:00.003+01:00

On a couple of walks recently, I've noticed some of last year's bullrushes 'bursting' with their stuffing coming out.

Still images don't really do them justice - as the wind blows, little clumps of gossamer seeds become detached and float off.

Eggstraordinary!

2009-04-10T17:37:00.006+01:00

Our chickens - Sybil, Pam and Fanny - continue to astound and amuse us.

We've recently started letter them loose in the garden. I'd put up a low wire fence to keep the dogs (and children) off the flower beds, so we thought the chickens might as well enjoy the extra space.

First, of course, we had to clip their wings. I know chickens can't really fly, but they can flutter quite well, so we needed to trim the end feathers of one wing. Apparently this screws-up their aerodynamics and they can't take off.

Sybil was very easy to do. The poor thing is so obviously 'challenged' in the intelligence department. She now quite likes being picked up and made a fuss of, so while one scrawny bird (Mrs DW) held the other (Sybil), I trimmed the feathers.

Pam was also fairly easy. She's more reluctant to be picked up but is a real coward, so as soon as anyone goes near her she tries to look inconspicuous by flattening herself on the ground - let's hope a fox never gets in the garden.

When it was Fanny's turn, things got a bit more complicated. She's the least friendly, the biggest and the quickest of the three, so when she slipped past me out of the run into the garden she took quite a bit of catching. Being novice chicken keepers, we were a bit worried about hurting her (the chap I bought them off just lunged at them and grabbed their legs!). However, persistence paid off and, in the end, when cornered by three of us for the tenth time, she gave up.

The dogs have been very interested in sharing the garden with the hens. O, the terrier, just wants to bite their heads off and has to be watched very closely. On the other hand, J is half border collie and she spends her days herding the chickens around the garden . . . come by!

J rounds up Pam and Fanny

We were worried about the hens finding their way back to bed in the evenings, but there was no need to - they just pop back when it starts getting dark. Having said that, it did take Sybil a couple of days to master it - initially she stood on the outside of the wire looking in and wondering how the other two got there.

Since the incident of the eggbound hen, we have had a couple more 'giant' eggs but, more interestingly, we've also had a couple of jelly eggs, with very thin, pliable, barely formed shells. These obviously popped out unexpectedly - one in the garden and one in the run. We're not sure what caused it, because their diet had not changed but we wondered if they might have had a bit of a fright - we've all been there!

Squidgy egg (eggscuse the grubby thumb - and pun)

Birthday portrait

2009-03-15T20:26:00.006Z

It was the youngest DW daughter's 18th birthday recently and to mark the occasion I was commissioned (by Mrs DW) to take a picture of the said daughter's mutt - to be enlarged, framed etc and handed over as a gift.

A new collar and 'handbag' were meant to enhance the look but the words sow's ear and silk purse came to mind - I did my best!

These are a couple of the rejected efforts.

This was the one selected . . .

And here's the birthday girl . . .

Venturing out

2009-03-15T20:14:00.003Z

Lovely day today, so I spent a bit of time tidying the garden.

Not much out yet, of course, but there are lots of things beginning to sprout and grow.

In the front garden, the crocuses and irises have more or less finished, but there are some lovely dwarf white tulips in flower at the moment.

They look pretty, but I have to admit they are part of a failed plan. I planted them a couple of years ago with some very dark purple, almost black, tulips - the idea being that the dark flowers would look as though they were 'sitting' on a bed of white. However, the labelling was obviously not quite right, because the purple tulips don't flower until the white ones have nearly finished. Perhaps I'll dig them out this year and start again.

I planted a Viburnum last summer and it's been flowering nearly all winter - a very pretty pink. It's just coming to an end now but still looks nice. It has a lovely scent as well.

Ouch!

2009-03-15T19:43:00.004Z

Sybil caused us a great deal of worry (and trouble) this week.

She stopped laying last weekend, went off her grub and spent most of the time hunched up and looking a bit miserable in the corner of the run.

By Tuesday, I was very concerned for her and started looking up on the web and in books what might be wrong with her. The diagnosis of Dr Dog Walker was that she was egg-bound and the prognosis was not good - it could kill her.

The forums on various poultry sites offered a variety of treatments, ranging from wringing her neck to sticking a lubricated finger up her posterior . . .

I didn't fancy either of these, so we went for the pregnant mum treatment - a nice warm bath to 'relax her muscles' and a quiet night in a darkened room with a comfy bed (dog crate under the stairs). Unfortunately, this did not have the desired effect, though she looked a bit brighter in the morning.

We put her back in with the other two on Thursday and hoped for the best.

Friday morning . . . nothing. But when I arrived home from work, there was good news - she had produced an egg, but not just any egg. It was the most eye-watering thing I've ever seen.

This is an egg the size Sybil was laying . . .

And here is the same egg up against the one she laid on Friday . . .

How much did that hurt? Poor Sybil.

It's now Sunday and I don't think she's laid another egg yet - who can blame her - but she is looking very bright and happy, so we're not too worried.

I expect you might be asking 'who got to eat the egg?'

Well, we all did - it went into the Yorkshire pudding we had today. It was a double-yolker, too.

Deer, oh deer

2009-02-28T19:01:00.003Z

The dog and I witnessed a slightly disturbing incident on one of our early, pre-dawn walks this week.

We were just walking past one of the village's 'big houses', which has set-back electric gates with railings either side, when we disturbed a muntjac deer which, seeing the dog, tried to leap through the railings to escape - only to get stuck.

I didn't know deer could make so much noise! It was very distressed and I couldn't see any immediate way to help it, so I thought the best thing was to finish our walk around the village and hope that it might quiten down, stop panicking and free itself.

No such luck. When we returned, it was still trapped and the only thing we did was distress it again. I was just about to pop into the phone box opposite to try to find an emergency number for the RSPCA when a chap from a neighbouring house appeared and offered to call a vet so, feeling a bit guilty, we left him and the deer to it.

I was pleased to see when I drove past a little later that the poor thing had been freed. I don't know if it was a boy or a girl, but I bet it's now working on getting that Christmas weight off its hips!

Grave matters

2008-12-28T15:25:00.002Z

A while ago, I blogged about a gravestone or memorial for William Ison, a shepherd who died after being struck by lightning.

The stone, in the middle of a fen field, was looking a bit weather-worn and its carved wording was becoming hard to read.

One of our walks took us past the site this weekend and I'm pleasd to say the stone has been the subject of a bit of tlc and is now looking quite smart.

Before

After

A touch of frost

2008-12-28T15:01:00.002Z

Christmas Day was, as usual, grey and dank, but we've had some lovely crisp, frosty mornings since. I've been out for a couple of long walks with the dawg this weekend and I think she's enjoyed stretching her legs a bit.

We didn't see too much wildlife on these walks - a nice, skittish fox with a huge brush tail, loads of herons, a few deer, a kingfisher, lots of redwings and not much else, though the mute swans on the river are looking particularly clean, crisp and white and the moment.

The thing I most like about these cold mornings is the lovely white dusting of frost that forms on anything it touches, especially the teasels in the hedgerows and, as usual, I can't stop myself taking pictures of them (even though I have dozens already).

The hips from dog roses are also really beautiful . . .

Chickens at work

2008-12-28T14:30:00.004Z

The hens have now settled in and we have quite a good routine. I feed them and change their water every morning, they get a handfull of corn and grit every afternoon, I move the run to a new patch of grass twice a week, I scrape out the droppings tray twice a week and they get a good clean every Saturday morning.

In return, I get a near-overflowing compost bin, a wrecked lawn and, more positively, roughly an egg a day.

Here's their production over the Chrismas period . . .

However, I'm fairly sure it's not Sybil who's laying as she's decided to moult - not the best time to be doing this, with regular frosts etc, but I suppose it is a female's prerogative to change her outfit as and when she wants to!

I am giving her a bit of a 'tonic' which is added to the food but, of course, all three of them are getting it - there's no way for each one to have a separate food bowl. It's a means to an end - a bit like trying to 'get to know' a girl in a bar by buying her drink, but having to get them in for her two ugly friends as well.

Eggs-tra, Eggs-tra, read all about it

2008-11-13T16:46:00.012Z

The Dog Walker family has three new members, so take a bow Sybil, Pam and Fanny . . .

We've been talking about getting a few hens for some time and it has taken the best part of a year for them to arrive. To be honest, we didn't want to jump into something we might regret later, so we took our time to decide whether our garden was big enough, where they'd live, how many, what type etc.

We finally plumped for an 'eglu', a plastic coop with a run attached. I think a lot of chicken-keepers are a bit snooty about them, but for us it's ideal. It's relatively easy to keep clean, quite mobile (so we can move it around the garden) and it's secure.

Having saved up enough pennies, I ordered the eglu last week. I was a bit miffed that they wouldn't supply any hens with it - they have a rule that they won't deliver beyond a two-hour drive from their base near Oxford. I reckoned we lived within two hours, but they wouldn't have it.

I traced a couple of local dealers on the web, but decided I'd get everything set up before getting the hens. The eglu and run went together really easily, so I set off to a pet/animal supplies place just outside of Cambridge to get some food etc, planning to go out the next day for hens.

I was chatting to the chap about which food was best etc when he suggested I visit the adjacent farm, where the farmer bred chickens . . . and I left with the trio pictured above.

It was interesting to see how the farmer handled the birds, having read in all the books about carefully picking them up and supporting them with an arm under their bodies etc. This chap (a younger-looking version of the farmer in Chicken Run), stepped into a shed containing about 25 slightly nervous birds and swept up a couple, suspending them in one hand with their legs between his fingers. Then it was into a second shed for the third hen, gathered up with equally little fuss. I have to say, the chickens didn't really object - they just hung there, resigned to their fate.

I had a quick look at the hens - he showed me their nice clean bottoms - but as a beginner, I had to trust his judgement. A bargain at £12.50 each (well, slightly more 'cos he only had £2 change for £40).

So, to the names.

We'd discussed this quite a bit round the dinner table and decided that I'd get to name one, Mrs DW would name one and the girls would have to agree a name for the third. The DW boys will have to wait until one of the current incumbents needs to be replaced!

I quickly decided on Fanny (as in Craddock). One of our dinnertime suggestions was to name them Fanny, Delia and Nigella and the Fanny stuck (as it were).

Mrs DW chose Sybil, simply because it's a nice, bossy henny name.

The girls had real trouble choosing. They were desperate to call it Ian (an inspired name for a hen) but I had to veto the idea - naming a hen after your next-door-neighbour (a hen-pecked one at that) would be fraught . . . so Pam it was.

And here they are:

Fanny

Fanny is a Blubelle, a hybrid (posh name for a mongrel). She's a bit shy and is the prettiest of the three.

Pam

Pam is a Bovans Goldline (another mongrel), which I think has some Rhode Island Red in the mix. Supposedly a very good layer, though time will tell.

Sybil

Sybil is another Bovans Goldline - slightly darker and smaller than Pam. As with all happenings in the DW household, things are not that straightforward and I'm afraid I have to report that Sybil is slightly disabled, a fact that which has particularly endeared her to Mrs DW, who is drawn to lame ducks (pardon the mixed metaphor) like a magnet.

Sybil has a slightly crossed beak, which you can see in the picture below.

I think this makes her a bit of a pariah in the chicken world. Various websites say she should be culled immediately (Nazi-hens.com included), but I figure that it's not that bad and if she's eating and drinking okay, then what's the problem? Also, she was a very clever girl yesterday and laid our very first egg - though she did produce it after out little chat in which I pointed out that even disabled hens had to earn their keep . . . or else.

I think the three of them must have then had a conference, because Fanny gave us egg number two.

And Pam laid a third today. I can't show you a picture of all three because the two above were gobbled up at teatime yesterday. And very nice they were, too

So, far so good. The three of them seem to have settled in okay. They are all a bit shy at the moment, but I think they'll be happier when the dogs get fed up with them and ignore them.

In a week or two, we'll try to clip their wings, then they can wander round the garden when one of us is home.

All we have to do is get used to the enormous amount of very smelly poo they produce (and which I, as usual, get to shovel)!

Terrible news . . .

2008-10-13T21:04:00.008+01:00

We have this effect on places . . .

I learned recently that our great new discovery, Mole Hall, near Saffron Walden, has closed down. Just one visit from the DW family and the place closes forever - perhaps twin 2 did hurt the butterfly when he picked it up (see previous entry).

Actually, it seems the owner was very ill and unable to continue running the place. A real shame, there was a lovely simplicity about it - the Health and Safety Nazis had been kept at bay (to a degree).

The animals are being rehomed, but there appears to be a problem finding a home for the two old chimps, Joey and Tubman. I hope they're successful - it would just be too sad if they had to be put down.

Mrs DW is very worried about the Chimps, but I've had to point out to her that we have enough wildlife in the house already - four kids, two dogs, cat and two fish - so it wouldn't be practical to add to the menagerie. But if any reader is able to offer a home . . .

Here are a few more pictures I took at Mole Hall but didn't use in the blog entry.

In the shower(s)

2008-08-18T12:49:00.010+01:00

Penury, brought on by poverty wages and the eldest daughter's self-funded round-the-world gap year travels being not quite as self-funded as we would have liked, means the Dog Walker is spending his annual summer holiday at home.

We rarely venture too far - Northumberland, Cornwall, Isle of Wight and such like - but this year, East Anglia is our oyster. This would normally be okay - days out, trips to the seaside, paddling pool in the garden - but the weather has made planning anything a real nightmare.

Day after day, the forecasters have hedged their bets - sunshine and showers (and they could just have easily added possibles gales, frosts, snow, heatwave and drought). Why can't they be honest and say 'we just don't know'?

Anyway, our plan was to have days out with the kids (for this read boys - the girls at 19 and 17 aren't really interested anymore), but choosing where to go when you've no idea what the weather is going to be like is quite difficult. This, of course, just adds to the problem we start with of finding places that will interest both boys who, while being 11-year-old twins, have completely different needs and interests because of the 'youngest' one's learning disability.

So, where to?

Most successful was our trip to Mole Hall, near Saffron Walden.

There's nothing sophisticated about this little farm/animal park, almost hidden at the end of a series of single track roads, but we had a delightful time at a reasonable price - just over £20 for a family ticket.

Food for the deer and ducks was pretty cheap (we've been ripped off at other similar places) and we spent several hours among the deer, chickens, rabbits etc.

I suspect the place was once a small private zoo and we felt a little uncomfortable about there being a couple of elderly-looking chimps in a not over-large enclosure. But, having said that, they looked healthy and well. I'd like to say they also looked happy, but I don't think elderly chimps do happy (they're the grumpy old men/women of the primate world).

The playground was a bit too simple for twin 1, but twin 2 enjoyed it, along with the butterfly house where, I have to admit, he decided to catch a butterfly between finger and thumb. It flew off, so no damage done (I think).

The highlight for Mrs DW was a little family of bantams - the little ginger chick being her favourite.

My favourite day out so far has been to Blickling Hall, a National Trust property in Norfolk. A bit of a trek for us, but well worth it (though I'm not sure if the others thought so).

Because of the length of our journey, we decided to have a coffee before looking around. There was one poor woman serving single-handedly in the Courtyard Café. She was incredibly cheerful and helpful, which also meant service was very slow. This turned out to be a blessing in disguise because, having chosen the Courtyard Café (seating outside in the courtyard), the skies decided to dump a week's worth of rain on Blickling in a few minutes.

Happily, by the time we emerged after an extended spell in the serving area, the sun had returned and largely dried the seats!

Our tour of the (lovely) gardens was punctuated with further showers, which meant that it was rather whistlestop - a shame because I could have spent hours wandering around.

I don't suppose the gardeners were enjoying it much either . . . rain stops mowing, below.

Mrs DW and the boys head off after a shower

Across the rooftops at Blickling Hall

We were rather taken by that area of Norfolk - it was like going back in time - and prompted questions about job opportunities in the area (none, I don't suppose, for an old has-been like me).

These two days out were in sharp contrast to the day we had at High Lodge, in Thetford Forest, a couple of weeks ago. It was the first time we had been there since they raised the parking price to £7 and force visitors to go through the palaver of taking their ticket to a pay station (which, on the day we were there, was being very selective about the coins and notes it would accept).

I have to say that £7 seemed a bit excessive and, while we try not to abuse the Blue Badge we have because of our son, The Forestry Commission's argument about not offering free or discounted parking to disabled people because £7 is such 'good value' is a nonsense. Disabled visitors here can access only a limited area around High Lodge, especially those with a physical disability, so why should they pay the same as someone who can use all the facilities, walks, playgrounds etc.

Perhaps the cyclists, who make life very difficult for mere pedestrians at High Lodge, should pay a premium. The Forestry Commission could perhaps then afford to 'police' cycle use, especially around the visitor centre where cyclists just plough through anyone who stands in their way - whether or not they're carrying children, food or hot drinks.

I would also expect that, having paid my £7, the Forestry Commission might arrange for the bins to be emptied overnight so that rubbish isn't strewn everywhere (by foxes, presumably) by the morning.

We won't be rushing back!

I'm bored . . .

2008-08-03T21:11:00.005+01:00

Actually, I like being bored.

I don't know how to meditate, but I imagine it's a bit like my own state of boredness (yes, I know, there's no such word). I can empty my head and think of nothing, I can even do it while apparently doing something else - reading, watching TV etc.

I can go for a whole day (if uninterrupted) in this state. But for the benefit of my colleagues, I can assure them I've not yet been able to master the art of being bored and appearing to work at the same time.

Now tedium, that's another thing altogether, and work, I find, can often be tedious. This weekend has been seriously tedious. Apart from taking the dog out and a bit of gardening, I've not really done anything, but at the same time I can't say I had the joy of being bored. Circumstances simply conspired to make it difficult to do anything constructive . . . I won't bore you with the details.

The gloom did lift a little this evening when I took the dog out (in the rain) and we got a good look at a female sparrowhawk. We don't see many of those around here, so it was a nice treat. I didn't have my camera with me (but I think it would have been too quick for me anyway), but I did take a few pictures over the weekend - new pictures of the hound and the cat, today's crop from the garden (later served up for dinner) and a not quite sharp shot of a bee.

Just like buses . . .

2008-07-22T21:36:00.004+01:00

I was just to the dog the other day (the only way to have a decent conversation) that we hadn't seen much in the way of wildlife recently - if you don't count the hundreds of rabbits that we see everyday and whihc scatter as soon as we come into sight. The farmers round our way must love rabbits - they don't seem to do anything about them or anything to mitigate the damage they do.

Anyway, earlier this week we left home a bit earlier in the morning than usual - I had a bit more than usual to do before leaving for work . . . iron a shirt, put out the bins, water the hanging baskets I'd not had a chance to do the previous evening (late getting back after delivering child to Latitude Festival) etc.

So we set off at 5.45am rather than the usual 6am, which is obviously the time to go round our local fields because we had a nice meeting with a barn owl which was having its breakfast in the long grass, then disturbed a kingfisher which was trying to catch its breakfast.

Sunday is the day for our long walk when we go a bit further afield and last Sunday we had another encounter with a barn owl. I was quite surprised because we were well into our walk and it was after 9am, but we sat and watched it hunting across a paddock for at least 20 minutes. That also surprised me because I read somewhere recently that owls are only active for about 8 minutes a day . . . that must only be lazy owls!

We've also had closer than usual deer experiences in the last week. The first was the usual one of the dog scaring an animal out of its cover - it was only a few yards away but, of course, it didn't hang around long enough for us to get acquainted.

The second was much more interesting. We were walking along a path when I became aware of a real commotion behind a bush. As we drew level we saw it was a deer, trying to get at something under the bush (a tasty morsel, perhaps). Whatever it was, for a couple of minutes the attraction was greater than its fear of me and the dog and it refused to give up. In the end, the dog decided she was bored and jerked on the lead, which sent the deer scurrying off.

As usual, I didn't have the camera when I needed it, but I did get a shot of the barn owl. It was quite a way off (for my camera) but the picture enlarged okay for here.

Also saw a nice heron perched on a boat - again a bit far away. Unfortunately I'd put my camera away when we spotted a tern of some sort (a common tern, I think) fishing in one of the bigger drainage ditches.

So, some nice wildlife after all . . . but I was just saying to the dog, not seen many super models recently!

A racing cert

2008-07-16T21:25:00.005+01:00

There were a number of firsts for the DW family last weekend.

The first first (what a way with words) was the maiden voyage in Mrs DW's new car. This was not as exciting as it could have been as she went for the same car as her old one, but with a diesel engine. Also slightly limiting was the strict instruction from the salesman not to go over 2,500 rpm (or 3,000 at the very most, in an emergency, if we were being chased by armed gunmen etc).

This was slightly disappointing because the destination of our outing was second first of the day (Sunday, July 12) - we went motor racing (no, Mrs DW's car did not make it on to the track).

Actually, we went to Snetterton to see the latest round of the British Touring Car Championship.

The reasoning behind the trip was that one of the few things our learning disabled son shows an occasional interest in is F1 and PlayStation racing games. Neither Mrs DW or myself is really interested in motor racing but we were prepared to suffer in silence.

I'm not saying we came away as converts, but the day was a bit of a revelation.

For a start it was good value - £22 each for me and Mrs DW and the twins went free. This was for a whole day's 'entertainment' with racing from around 9am through to nearly 6pm.

The event was incredibly friendly, from the helpful staff and marshalls to the other people in the crowd (who were obviously a lot more knowledgeable than we were). It was also very well organised with just a few minutes between each race.

I have to admit that some of the races were a little tedious to us non-experts - a bit of a parade after the first few laps. But even though we weren't at the most exciting part of the track, there were still some 'thrills and spills'.

For twin number one, the day was a bit if a disaster, he showed no interest at all and spent most of the day glued to his Nintendo. However, our disabled son had probably the best day of his life - we've never seen him so happy and he was smiling from ear to ear for the whole time, dancing and jumping with excitement as the cars came past. When a car left the track or there was a slight collision he was delirious with joy.

Needless to say, when we got back home we were looking up the Snetterton calendar to see what else is coming up.

The day also gave me the chance to try a new type of photography - things that move faster than a snail. I probably didn't have the right kit, gauging by the size of the lenses being lugged about by the professional types, but I was quite pleased with some of the results.

A little warble

2008-06-30T21:48:00.003+01:00

Nice walk with the dog on Sunday, though the poor thing was exhausted and a bit hot when we got home - set off at around 8am and did not get home until after 11am.

Heard and saw another cuckoo, which again seems very late in the season. Presumbably all the breeding has been done now.

We also managed to walk through a field of cattle without being chased. I don't know what it is about my dog, but she's a real cow magnet - as soon as they see her they want to follow/chase her. This is unnerving for her and scary for me.

I'm told the cows are just being inquisitive . . . well I wish they wouldn't be!

The nicest part of the walk was getting some pictures of a reed warbler. I couldn't get as close as I would have liked, but I was able to enlarge the image a bit - fine for the web, I think, but won't make prints.

Kill!

2008-06-23T21:14:00.007+01:00

When you have a pet cat, you don't expect to have mice in the house.

When you have a pet terrier, you don't expect to have rats under the shed.

When you have a toad, you don't expect slugs among the lettuce.

We have a cat, but no mice, we have a Jack Russell, but no rats, we have a toad . . . and millions of bleedin' slugs. The thing is simply not earning his keep If he can't manage on his own, he needs to get some of his mates in, 'cos I'm losing the battle against slugs and snails.

Actually, we've all got a bit of a soft spot for the toad which, surprisingly for this family, does not have a name yet (I feel an online competition coming on!). He lives under a couple of lengths of wood which I desperately want to move out of the way, but I can't bring myself to disturb him.

Apart from unwanted invertabrates, he's the only real wildlife in the garden - that's the problem with more or less creating a new garden from scratch with a very low budget, there's not really much cover or food for wildlife. In a couple of years, things will be different, but until then, we will have to make do with our lazy toad.

Up until this weekend, the only goodies offered up by the garden have been various types of salad leaves and one or two strawberries that have escaped the notice of the snails. But on Sunday I dug up the first of the potatoes (not many per plant but very tasty), pulled a few carrots (again, not big but very sweet) and cut the first courgette.

The runner beans won't be long now and the tomatoes have started to form - it's not exactly the good life and we won't be self-sufficient in anything but lettuce (plot too small), but it's quite satisfying to be producing something.

The flower beds are still looking good in places - especially if you ignore the big expanses of bare earth between the plants. I like to think of myself as being like a mum who buys her kids clothes that are too big, saying 'he'll soon grow into it'. I say to myself that the plants will soon grow into the spaces.

Who are you calling bald?

2008-06-09T21:29:00.004+01:00

Recent walks with the dog have been a bit disappointing with regard to wildlife, though on Sunday I had a reed warbler sitting just a few feet in front of me for about five minutes - seeing me off, eventually.

We also got within 30 or 40 feet of a cuckoo that was calling really loudly. I heard my first cuckoo this year at the beginnning of May. I think this is quite unusual because normally I've only heard the over a space of a week or two.

Finally, this coot had built a lovely nest which I thought was worth taking a picture of. I might try to return next week to see if there are any young.

Smoke and mirrors . . .

2008-06-09T21:05:00.004+01:00

I've learned that close up pictures can hide a multitude of sins.

My garden at the moment is looking okay, but has not yet fully recovered from the battering it received from the dogs over the winter. There's also plenty of gaps waiting to be filled when I can afford the plants.

The vegetable patch, too, is also so-so. There have been germination issues this year!

But, like I say, close up, there's some nice flowers and plants. Here's a very short slideshow highlighting some of the best bits. Not quite Chelsea, but there you go.

My big dilemma at the moment is what tree to plant in the back garden. I want something with the shape of a silver birch, with a light, airy canopy, but I don't really want it to go above 5 or 6 metres. Anyone got any ideas. (I don't really want an ornamental cherry!)

Home turf

2008-05-25T21:33:00.003+01:00

Or home lupin, to be precise. Here's one in my cold frame ready to be planted out . . . just waiting for the bank holiday rain to ease up.

Blue is the colour . . .

2008-05-25T20:58:00.009+01:00

Except it's not . . . they lost - but who cares.

The only Chelsea I was interested in over the past few days was Chelsea Flower Show, which I was lucky enough to get a ticket to.

As a bit of a gardener, I suppose I should be inspired by Chelsea, but in fact I get a bit daunted and depressed. Tens of thousands of pounds are spent on the show gardens and they're just too good, too perfect. There's no way I could reproduce anything like them.

That's not entirely true (I've just had a glass or two of red wine and I'm feeling a a bit maudlin) - it is a good place to get ideas for planting combinations; to see what plants go well together and, in the grand marquee, you can see just what plants are availabe to us.

What is beyond most of us is the hard landscaping - the pavilions, sculptures, walls and miles of perfect York stone paving. No concrete slabs from B&Q at Chelsea!

Anyway, I suspect most people will feel a bit Chelsea'd out at this point - endless coverage on the TV and wall to wall in the papers. So here's just a couple of flowery pictures . . .

The person I accompanied to Chelsea is a well-known shopper (well-known to shopkeepers around East Anglia, anyway), so nothing was going to keep her away from the avenue to trade stands at Chelsea, In fact, she was very restrained. Here are a few of the things she managed to avoid buying.

Bank holiday banker

2008-05-05T20:32:00.005+01:00

I'm not a great fan of bank holidays - too many people with free time at the same time. It's always too busy where ever you go. We tend to stay at home and hide!

However, it was the boys' 11th birthday on Saturday, so we had to do something.

Their birthday treat was a visit to Legoland at Windsor, but we took them the previous Saturday to avoid the crowds, ho ho!

No pictures to speak of because we spent most of our time in queues for rides. Token photo below.

On their actual birthday, we took them (plus older sister) to High Lodge at Thetford Forest and, though it was quite busy, had a nice time. The children enjoyed the playgrounds (including 17-year-old big sis), we played cricket and football, then it was back home for a party tea (is there a better meal?) and more hours on the new Wii (Mariokart and tennis).

There was a new 'attraction' at Thetford Forest - a big wooden pyramid to with two tunnel slides.

The eldest daughter is off on her gap year travels at the moment, but she did remeber to send birthday cards from New Zealand. She's following in the footsteps of Phileas Fogg - Around The World in 80 Days or, in her case, 12 weeks. So far on her whistle stop tour, she's done New York, Los Angeles, San Francisco, Fiji and New Zealand. In a couple of weeks, she's off to Oz.

Anyway, back to the more mundane . . . Sunday saw us make our usual visit to a garden centre - this week to pick up dog food and flea treatment for both the dogs. Pm, Mrs DW took me to Blacks in Cambridge to buy a new pair of walking boots for my birthday (9th) if anyone is planning to help me celebrate. I can't post a picture of said boots because they were whisked away and hidden (under the bed)!

Sunday was also interesting because the dog and I discovered two new residents in the village. Most of the farms around the village are arable - oilseed rape as far as the eye can see. But one local farmer has decided to branch out . . . into rare breed cattle. We bumped into him inspecting his two young White Park cows which had arrived just the day before.

He told me he was fed up with driving a tractor up and down spraying crops and, though he was meant to be retired, thought he'd like to help save this very rare breed. When he was growing up, his family had a dairy herd and though that was long ago, I think he still has a passion for cattle.

The two cows, which he hopes to start breeding from this year, came from the herd at Wimpole Hall. Apparently. there are only about 200 breeding females in world (there's a herd in Germany and another in the USA) and its quite a complicated process breeding them because you can't breed from the same line for four generations (to prevent in-breeding).

Finally, I had a perfect Bank Holiday Monday - two pleasant walks with the dog, during which we spotted a nice deer with antlers, and the rest of the day in the garden, planting, weeding and generally pottering.

Perhaps, bank holidays aren't all bad after all.

Dog tired . . .

2008-04-27T21:10:00.017+01:00

Apologies in advance for an image-heavy entry - new route and new camera too much to resist

Yes, a very tired dog. This morning we ventured deeper into the fens than ever before and had our longest walk. The poor old hound was exhausted, but was a lovely walk and very interesting, too.

On the nature front, I heard my first cuckoo of the year. It seems very early. My memory says (and I think I've mentioned this in a previous blog) that it's usually the end of May before the cuckoo heralds its arrival. I suppose it's either global warming bring them here earlier or my memories are false.

There seem to me lots of yellowhammers about this year - the hedgerows out in the fen seem full of them. Also plenty of reed buntings and the dog and I stood and watched (and listened to) a greater spotted woodpecker for a while.

I had to consult the bird book when I got home to identify a pair of tits we saw - unfortunately, it wasn't able to help me get closer than either a marsh tit or a willow tit. Apparently, they're hard to tell apart, even for experts.

I stopped to take pictures of some cowslips and when I looked up, I could just make out a little face watching me intently through a bush. Of course, the camera was set up to take a close-up picture of a flower, so I struggled to quickly change the settings. I had the autofocus on, so my first effort resulted in a nice sharp image of the bush. I flicked the camera into manual focus and just managed to take one picture - not quite in focus - before the deer broke cover.

It's now Monday - computer crashed while uploading the cowslip picture (now, it's a critic!) and I just gave up for the evening.

Further on our walk, we came across part of the new path being built by the National Trust to connect Wicken Fen Nature Reserve to Cambridge. They've even built a posh new bridge across Swaffham Lode. They're also cleverly making the path twice as long as it needs to be by making it snake across the landscape.

Some time ago, I read how one of the major drainage ditches on the fen (the Commissioner's Drain, I believe) went under Swaffham Lode and I imagined a tunnel going deep underground.

In fact, the lode is at quite a high level, so the drain goes under it at about ground level. It was difficult to get a picture which illustrates this, so I took two - one of each side of the lode, from the top of the embankment.

Next time we travel that way, I'll try to get down to the level of the drain to see the entrance.

Further down the lode we came to the pumping station where it joins the River Cam. There's an old fashioned lock gate, but the work seems to be done by a modern steel rising gate. I thought the river level would be much higher that the lode, but in fact, the lode was higher.

From here, we turned towards Cambridge along the banks of the Cam - a peaceful spot to have a houseboat, though the 'taggers' still managed to leave their mark at the Bottisham Lode pumping station, which is really a long way from anywhere.

Finally, with the dog (and me) flagging, it was time to head for home. Just time to capture one of those big fen skies.

Flash, bang, wallop . . .

2008-04-14T21:11:00.003+01:00

. . . what a picture, what a photograph. Or at least I hope so.

New camera this week - back to an SLR after a few years of a compact. I enjoyed the Nikon, it was very versatile but also a bit unwieldy if I wanted to take pictures on anything other than the 'auto' setting.

Anyway, a walk with the dog on Sunday was the first opportunity to use the new 'equipment'.

It was a pleasant walk along a newish route that I'd not photographed before, but the hound was being a bit awkward, making it a bit difficult to stop and look around.

We did find a pond we'd not spotted before - very picturesque but spoiled a bit by all the litter left behind by kids who obvioulsy used the place for drink parties etc.

This stretch of the walk takes me over a couple of bridges - a narrow footbridge and an old railway bridge, the line for which has long since been ripped up.

There was a pair of blackbrids going beserk in the garden on Sunday morning - giving the cat a right telling off. A bit of investigation uncovered this poor little thing hiding in the undergrowth . . .

Funilly enough, I was reading a piece last week about how fledgling blackbirds often get turfed out of the nest a bit early, but it was important to leave them alone because their parents continue to look after them.

Well, it survived Sunday and Monday, though I do worry that one of the many neighbourhood cats will make a little snack of him.

Sunday pm, we went into Cambridge to visit the Botanic Garden We'd just started taking a look around (a reluctance to pay the entry fee meant I hadn't been there for years) when the heavens opened. We sheltered in the coffee shop for a while, then the glasshouses, but we admitted defeat in the end and beat a wet and hasty retreat back to the car.

I did get the chance to take a few pictures, but not as many as I would have liked.

Time flies

2008-04-09T21:13:00.004+01:00

Where does the time go?

It doesn't seem two minutes since we were having an Easter egg hunt in the snow . . . 45 eggs counted out, only 41 counted in! I did find one lying in the grass after the snow had melted but I'm not sure where the rest went.

Then the next weekend, we had the opposite weather and I found myself in Ely for a couple of hours while one of the boys had some cricket coaching. We used to live in Ely and really liked it there but moved away about 10 years ago.

It's changed quite a bit in that time - lots more houses, new park down by the river, new shops etc - but the cathedral is an ever present wonder. It never fails to lift and amaze me.

There's always something to photograph in Ely - like this impressive chimney stack and a nice surprise when a small steam lorry passed me by.

Sojourn (with small boy) on the Isle of Wight

2008-03-16T17:10:00.007Z

Last week saw Dog Walker and son saying farewell to the rest of the family for a short trip to the Isle of Wight.

The outing was in lieu of a Year 6 school residential trip which the boy was unable to go on. And so it was meant to be a bit educational!?

It didn't start well - departure postponed from Monday to Tuesday due to big storm which meant some of the ferries were cancelled. I'm not a good sailor so it was just as well.

The storm was a bit of a godsend in that I was able to show firsthand how coastal erosion takes place (one of the subjects being studied by his classmates on the Norfolk coast). A double bonus is that one of my favourite things is walking by the sea in stormy weather.

Stormy at The Needles

He loved it at The Needles where we were blown across the car park and where the night before windspeeds of 95mph had been recorded. Round the corner, at Freshwater Bay, the waves were crashing on to the beach and around the chalk stacks.

Waves at Freshwater Bay

We also visited the Dinosaur Isle museum, at Sandown. It's quite interactive and designed for kids (I think) so he quite enjoyed that - he didn't even complain when I made him complete one of the worksheets.

There was a lovely lady in the reception/gift shop who seemed quite pleased that she'd been inundated with new stock in readiness for the coming season. I think the winter months are a bit lonely for her - she said there were days when her only customer were museum curatorial staff buying sweets and snacks.

The son blew £10 of his £15 allowance for the trip on a Horrible Science book on dinosaurs. I blew £14.40 on my undisclosed allowance on something I've coveted for most of my adult life - a geological map of the Isle of Wight (what a sad old git!). I remember studying one at an exhibition (Local Look, at Brook WI, by the Isle of Wight Natural History Society) when I was 12 or 13 and I've wanted one ever since. I can't really explain why - I'm not sure I can even read it properly!

The boy had also hoped that we might be able to play crazy golf while we were on the Island - a favourite holiday pasttime. He wouldn't believe that they wouldn't be open so we went down on to Shanklin seafront - a desolate place in winter - and he soon believed me!

Desolate at Shanklin

Desperate to continue the 'educational' theme, the next day we took Grandad to Portsmouth to the Historic Royal Naval Dockyard. The guided tour of HMS Victory was quite fun - the guide (an ex-Navy man I presume) made it interesting, though you got the feeling that his 'script' was very well rehearsed.

HMS Victory

Raising the wreck of the Mary Rose was obviously a great feat, but I'm afraid viewing a few old timbers through a thick mist is not that exciting. The museum (nearby but hopefully, due to Lottery funding soon to be in the same building) was better and was quite child friendly. This was just as well as we shared our time there with a class of youngsters with learning difficulties. They were quite delightful, but the teacher in charge of them was completely dipsy and, to be honest, not really in control of herself!

The weather quickly got worse at this point so we had to forego the boat trip around the dockyard and tucked into sausage in chips instead. This was followed by a wander around HMS Warrior, which is a beautifully restored early iron warship - the most advanced of its time (1860s).

The it was back through the rain to the ferry terminal and the Island.

Another highlight of the day was taking Grandad on public transport, namely the Island's railway, which runs from Shanklin to the end of Ryde Pier. The railway itself is quite historic, in its way - the rolling stock being made up of 1950s London Underground carriages.

Grandad was outraged that the ride was so bumpy and was almost apoplectic at the language used by some of the school children who shared our compartment.

Spring has sprung . . . not

2008-03-16T16:00:00.007Z

The bright spell we had before this current stormy weather tempted me and the dog out of our armchair/basket and into the countryside.

We had a couple of walks which were chilly (with frost) but nice because of the bright sun.

One such walk, we discovered an old threshing machine decomposing in the corner of a field. It made me think about the days when dozens of men would be working the fields around the village, when there were up to a dozen pubs (none now), shops (just a small post office today) and a real sense of community (definitely none now!).

I was brought right back into the 21st century by an equally decrepit piece of machinery lying in a nearby hedge. Dumping your unwanted items in the countryside seems to be the way you get rid of them nowadays. I wonder how long it'll take this motorbike to rot away completely - probably never will.

Our noses were assaulted when we came across a farmer spreading muck on his field - poor dog, her sense of smell is thousands of times more sensitive than mine. In fact, the smell wasn't too bad as we approached as we were upwind but it got worse as we went around the field. Also, the next day, the wind changed towards the village and the place stank for a week!

I don't think it has been a particularly bad winter, but the rabbits have obviously been hungry, devouring the bark on these young trees . . .

Finally, we found some more frosty teasels - one of my favourite photographic subjects.

Book of the week?

2007-12-16T16:23:00.000Z

I wonder how many people had this useful little tome in their stocking at Christmas?

It was on sale at a local garden centre at a bargain £2.99 - reduced from £6.99. Do you think they might have had trouble shifting it at the original price?

Bicarbonate of soda is, apparently, a very versatile natural substance - but who on earth could find enough to say about it to fill a book?

I didn't look to see who wrote it - apologies if it was you.

Is it spring yet?

2007-12-08T16:09:00.000Z

Like a big, old grizly bear, DW has been in hibernation. He might interrupt his slumbers for the upcoming festivities, but who knows?

In truth, I sort of blinked, summer had finished, autumn had passed by and winter was here! Plus (as I think I've said before) the crappy new computer system at work means I'm keyboarded out by the time I get home, so blogging is the last thing I want to do.

It's agony . . .

2007-10-14T16:50:00.000+01:00

I spend many of my lunch hours in Waterstone's, the nearest thing Bury has to a good bookshop (I was spoiled by my years working in Cambridge). I'm pretty much a fiction person. I can't remember the last factual book I read all the way through - I tend to dip in and out as and when I want to look something up. And I'm ashamed to say I tend to use Waterstone's as a sort of reference library. Recently, I've been browsing the 'smallholding' section as I'm considering getting a few hens for the bottom of the garden.

However, this week I decided I needed to top up the pile of books next to my bed which are waiting to be read. There has been a bit of a hiatus in my reading recently - I read mostly in bed at night but, because of the awful and exhausting new computer system at work, which I may have mentioned in a previous blog, I've just been too tired to read. Instead, I drop off in seconds to The World Tonight on Radio 4.

I thought a few new titles and/or authors might reinvigorate my page turning, so it was off to Waterstone's. I quickly found one book I had been waiting to arrive in paperback, then - after a long browse of the shelves - another by an author I'd not read before but which looked interesting. Then came that terrible dilemma . . . you've got two books in your hand and they both happen to be part of Waterstone's 3for2 offer. Do I just pay for the two and forego the offer or do I spend yet more time (with my lunch hour quickly disappearing) finding a third book?

I'm too mean to turn down an offer, so it was back to the shelves. The hunt was proving fruitless, nothing tickled my fancy. So, I thought, why not break out of this fiction-only routine? Let's try a biography.

I trawled the biography section and quickly discovered why I didn't read them - what rubbish. I picked up Lord Stevens' autobiography (he was a deputy or assistant or deputy chief constable of Cambridgeshire police for a while) and flicked through it. He should stick to police work - when a sentence begins: "I remember one amusing incident . . ." it says it all.

As I put John Stevens' tome back on the shelf, I noticed the sign . . .

I hate the way they divide up bookshops. A novel is a novel, it doesn't matter if it's crime, horror, romance or sci-fi, they all belong on the same shelves - in author order (you wouldn't guess my Saturday job when I was at school was in the local library!).

So, what on earth is a Painful Life? Do you need to die a terrible death? Do you have to be a martyr to chilblains? Or perhaps you just have to peddle misery and despondency in a literary format!

Another reason I hate all these signs in bookshops (Waterstone's isn't the only guilty party) is that in the past I've found myself perusing a perfectly tame novel, only to look up and find that I'm leaning against a shelf headed 'Erotica' or 'Gay and Lesbian fiction'. Being easily embarrassed, I tend to flee the shop flushed red and imagining that the guys manning the security cameras are having a right hoot.

I managed to survive finding myself at the 'Painful Lives section and stayed in the shop to find a third novel, though I'm not too hopeful.

By the way, my favourite book is A Prayer for Owen Meany by John Irving, and I recently finished his latest, Until I Find You, which, despite its great length, is also excellent and well worth the hernia you'll get lifting it off the shelf and carrying it home.

Serene I stand . . .

2007-09-24T22:15:00.000+01:00

'Serene I stand among the flowers and only count life's sunny hours,

For me dark days do not exist I'm a brazen-faced old optimist.'

Sometimes, places and events become so familiar that you forget to look for new things. I discovered this at the weekend when we went for one of our regular walks around Anglesey Abbey, near Cambridge, which is one of our favourite National Trust haunts.

We have a bit of a set route around the grounds, which are wonderful and change with the seasons. But we've become sort of complacent, forgetting to look around us.

So, on Sunday, it was great to discover something new there. For most of the time we've been going to Anglesey, the Rose Garden has been the preserve of the family which owned the place and lived in the summer house (a mere 11 bedrooms) next to the abbey itself. They've now moved out and the Rose Garden has been opened to the public - and what a treat it was.

First discovery was the sundial (above) adjacent to the entance. Sorry about my shadow spoiling the picture, but I was trying to get the dragonfly in the shot without scaring it away. I thought the inscription (Serene . . . ) around the 'dial' was lovely - but having looked it up on Google, it must be on every other sundial there is.

Continuing the weather theme, I noticed for the first time (I think) the golden weather vane (below) in the shape of a longship. In all the years we've been going to Anglesey Abbey, we've always been too mean to buy a guidebook, so I'm afraid I don't know the significance of the sundial or the longship, or any of the other things we spotted on our first visit to the Rose Garden.

Flanking one of the entrances to the garden are two statues of Pan, which are slowly (I presume) being enveloped by the yew hedge.

But even more intriguing is this tombstone(?), the head end of which is now under the hedge - one assumes the hedge came second.

Then, on the other side of the hedge, in the Rose Garden itself - by the way the actual roses had begun to fade a bit - was an even stranger discovery . . .

What seem to be stone coffins or, more to the point, empty stone coffins! It's no good - I've got to get the guide book, I have to know . . .

Further into the garden is a doorway - presumably leading to the old private quarters of the family. The door looks really ancient and, according to a plaque fixed to it, once belonged to Henry Cromwell (Oliver Cromwell's son).

Either side of the door are the heads of what appear to be bishops - but they look too mischievous to be senior clergy - one has even suffered a broken nose!

Finally, a detail from the gates leading into the garden. A lovely, surprising and intriquing afternoon stroll which taught me not to take things for granted. And when I find out whose coffins they were, I'll let you know.

Sunflower power

2007-09-24T21:12:00.000+01:00

The sunflowers in my garden sort of gave up the ghost at the weekend - heads heavy with seed, no support, dogs running round them etc.

I've chopped off the heads so they can dry out and the birds can peck at the seeds through the winter.

It also gave me the chance to get close up and take some pictures. They're fantastic things, sunflowers - beautiful, shapes colours and patterns.

False start

2007-09-03T20:42:00.000+01:00

I returned to the house after setting off on the dog walk this morning (6.05am). After seeing this rather explosive looking sunrise, I had go back and get my camera.

The verbascum (?) and teasels looked good in the half-light, too. There's something unnatural about the tall spikes.

Yesterday, I dug up the first of my rather pathetic crop of parsnips. I'm having to ration them, but there was enough here to roast with our Sunday lunch.

Over the garden fence

2007-08-27T11:47:00.000+01:00

I've spent the weekend trying to avoid my neighbours.

They've just returned from a two-week cruise around the Baltic ports and I know they're desperate to tell me about it. It may sound unkind, but I don't want to hear.

They're the sort of people who only want to tell you about their wonderfully interesting lives, their incredibly talented children, what they did yesterday, what they're doing today and what they'll be doing tomorrow.

There's never a 'how are you?' or 'what do you think?'.

Mrs DW almost got caught, getting out of the car. He appeared from nowhere to say 'nice weather' . . . the trap was set (I've fallen into it before). Mrs DW was then meant to say 'yes, about time too'. That's when the trap snaps shut . . . 'we've had lovely weather where we've been'. But Mrs DW is much cleverer/tougher than me - she just muttered some inanity and plunged through the front door, slamming it behind her.

Since then, each time I've ventured out into the garden, one of them has appeared at the fence with a cough or a snip of the clippers at shrubs that don't need snipping . . . I think I've managed to feign deafness, blindness or general busyness (business?) without appearing too rude, but I suppose they'll catch me eventually.

Or are we just being paranoic?

Good dog

2007-08-26T17:04:00.000+01:00

Olive, my daughter's puppy, has just started school and is proving to be a bit of star pupil - when compared to J, anyway. She's already pretty trustworthy off the lead and, apart from the odd accident, is house trained. The fact is, she's really greedy and will do anything for a treat, whereas J couldn't care less.

She has a thing about catching snails and slugs in the garden. Is catching the right word? I can't imagine there's much of a chase! It's good that she's helping to keep the pest population under control, but the downside is, of course, that my plants get squashed.

Garden woes

2007-08-26T16:18:00.000+01:00

The garden has left me a bit demoralised - it has taken such a battering from the weather and from the dogs. I had high hopes of the flowers, but although everything I planted came up, they were badly trampled by the animals - despite my pleading to the family not to let them out unless supervised. This lone sunflower sums it up really . . . desperately trying its best to brighten up the garden, but not quite succeeding.

There has been some success on the produce side, for a first attempt anyway. The tomatoes have been attacked by blight and the wind and rain, but we've had some fruit. Garden Pearl (below) has been most successful. The runner beans have cropped really heavily, the dwarf beans okay, the carrots okay and we're getting a bit fed up with courgettes.

The cucumbers have been a bit of a mixed bag - some tasting really sweet others being bitter. The beetroot (only one row because I hate them) have not grown very big, but Mrs DW says they have been very nice.

Onions patchy, parsnips useless (only a few germinated), strawberries nice and sweet but few and far between. The lettuce started off really successfully, especially the cut and come again variety, but my attempts to have a succession of lettuce to eat have been devastated by the plague of slugs and snails which I've been powerless to stop.

The apple tree has looked full of fruit, but they are very small (probably due to the dry spring).

The chillies now look edible, but we haven't tried them yet.

Finally a bit of colour - a cosmos, I think.

Famous last words . . .

2007-08-24T16:28:00.000+01:00

Did I say at the end of my last entry that I'd next see my dear girls on Monday? How wrong was I?

Last night (Thursday) we had a call from daughter 2 at around 8pm saying she wasn't well and wanted to come home. Mrs DW suggested she give it a bit of thought and call us back later. At 10pm she suggested that DW hop into the car and drive down to Reading to pick her up.

Having established from her older sister that she wasn't in danger of imminent demise, I declined the offer, suggesting instead that I come down in the morning. She reluctantly accepted that I wouldn't be spending Thursday night/Friday morning on the road.

At 4am she decided to give us an early morning wake up call which, I'm ashamed to say I let Mrs DW deal with. At 7am she rang again to ask where I was on the road - wrong, I was about to get up to take first the hound out for a walk and then Olive, daughter 2's puppy. (I tried walking them both at the same time the other evening but, because both of them have to stay on the lead, it was a bit of a nightmare).

I eventually left at around 9am and, having established they would be at the Orange gate, warned them to be ready there at 11.45am.

The trip down was okay and I followed the (well-signposted) route to the Orange gate, which it turned out was miles from where I originally left them - down small country lanes and farm tracks. I was quite proud that I pulled into the car park spot on at 11.45am. But it seemed to be just that, a car park - well a recently harvested cornfield to be precise.

A phone call to the daughters quickly established that I was in completely the wrong place - in fact, on the wrong side of the river. Orange gate, according to the eldest DW daughter, was at one of the other coloured gates, the original Orange gate being too muddy to open. The trouble was, she wasn't sure which one.

So it was back into Reading, across the field which almost took off the bottom of my car, along the farm tracks, country lanes etc and through all the festival traffic and throngs of youths (the only redeeming feature being the 'uniform' of most of the young women - very short shorts and wellies!).

After numerous phone calls and wrong turns I eventually found the girls at Yellow gate (near orange in the spectrum, I suppose) and daughter 2 left Reading just as the first band went on stage!

Daughter 1, will be home on Monday by coach - I hope!

Rock on . . .

2007-08-23T15:43:00.000+01:00

On Wednesday I took the two DW daughters to the Reading Festival, the preparation for which has been planned with military precision.

While most teenagers were busy revising, mine were checking out the tent, purchasing rucksacks and sleeping bags and logging on to the internet almost hourly to check out which bands would be playing.

Tickets were booked almost as soon last last year's festival had finished. Apparently it's cheaper that way, the only drawback being that you don't know which bands will be playing.

Then as A-level and GCSE results approached, the preparations reached fever-pitch - almost daily shopping trips for camping stoves, shampoo, wellies. Hourly phone calls to friends to check on travel arrangements - one of them had the festival tickets, another had the early passes (allowing them to set up camp on Wednesday instead of Thursday or Friday).

Then, on Monday and Tuesday there were checks on the website to see which campsites were the least wet (the site is next to the Thames and was flooded after the last lot of heavy rain).

So, on Wednesday it was finally D-day. I was transporting my two plus two others. The back of the car was packed solid with three tents, rucksacks, sleeping bags and other paraphernalia (all of which they had to carry themselves once they arrived in Reading).

The journey to Reading was fairly uneventful, but in the town itself it was like bees round a honeypot - thousands of teenagers converging on the festival site, all trying to look cool while lugging heavy bags and tents along the road. They all looked fairly pristine in their newly-acquired festival garb (lots of flowery wellies) but I suspect that come Monday morning when they're all heading home, they won't look quite so clean.

The road leading to the festival was also something to behold - every few yards there was a beer stall - beer was available off the back off lorries, out of vans, from tents and gazebos. Some youngsters had decided to stock up on their way in and were thus doubly loaded down with camping equipment and beer. This brought snorts of derision from the eldest DW daughter (a veteran of two previous Reading Festivals). 'Oh God, don't they know you need to set up your tent first and then go and get your beer!).' I prefer not to think of my two little angels quaffing cans of lager, but I suppose they have to grow up at some time.

Today (Thursday), we were ordered to pick up GCSE results. The youngest DW daughter had initially said she wasn't that bothered about her results - 'they'll put them in the post'. Then it was 'can you collect them, I'll open them when I get home'. Finally, it was 'open them, read them to me . . .' Luckily, they were very good and we didn't have her snivelling down the phone. (For the record and to be fair to the elder DW daughter, she also did v.well in her A-levels and got her place to do teacher training in York after a gap year).

I've been spared the return trip to Reading on Monday - they're all coming home by coach . . . poor coach driver, I can't imagine what 50 unwashed teenagers trapped in a small, enclosed space smell like!

No guesses

2007-08-19T13:00:00.000+01:00

Obviously a big mistake to invite guesses where the pictures of the signs were taken. It means either the 'test' was too hard, no one could be bothered to reply or (most likely) no one read it!

In fact, the pictures were taken at Blackgang Chine, on the Isle of Wight, which we visited for a couple of days last week.

Blackgang was one of earliest theme parks but is wonderfully understated in a very English way.

The signs were on a) a whale skeleton which is on display and b) next to a family of fibre glass bears in the Frontierland area of the chine.

I've been visiting Blackgang since I was a very small child and it has changed a lot over the years, not least because bits of it keep falling into the sea. It was orginally a steep-sided valley that ran down the the sea on the southern coast of the island. Visitors came to wonder at its natural beauty and walk down the steep steps and winding path to the beach.

Gradually it added 'attractions' - the whale skeleton (washed up on a nearby beach), displays about smuggling and wrecks etc. Among the highlights when I first went in the early 1960s (that dates me!) were a water garden, a gnomes' village and a hall of mirrors. Not so interesting was the display of different types of chimney pot. The best thing, of course, was when you went at night and the whole place was lit up with strings of coloured lights..

Now it's more modern - there's a small roller-coaster, a big water slide etc - but the water garden is still there, perched on the very edge of the cliff which suggests that next time we go, it might not be. Also, some of the gnomes remain, as does the collection of chimney pots and the hall of mirrors.

Parts of the park are split up into themed areas - Frontierland (a cowboy town with fibreglass bears, horses, cowboys etc), Jungleland (fibreglass animals), dinosaurland (fibreglass . . . you get the picture).

What's amazing is that considering how 'tame' it is, the place is really popular - and always has been. When I was at university, during the summer holidays I worked as a bus conductor on the island and the main route I worked on was from the pier at Ryde (where the passenger ferry arrives) to Blackgang. It was an easy route for me because the bus would fill up with people heading for Blackgang and there'd be no room for any more passengers I'd take the first lot of fares and then it would be non-stop to Blackgang with no room for any new passengers.

For me, Mrs DW and our two teenaged girls, visiting Blackgang is mainly about nostalgia. But for the two 10 year olds it's still exciting and fun. This time, like many other parents, we let the boys buy cap guns to play with in the cowboy town. Dozens of kids running around firing cap guns, shrieking because of their 'wounds', the smell of the caps (nice - it brought back childhood memories) mingling with the stink of chips and burgers being cooked in the café - all in a hot, humid and airless atmosphere because this part of the park in wedged in between the rising cliffs aon one side and woodland on the other. Not my favourite part of Blackgang (as a grown up).

An added bonus this time was the weekly 'performance' by the local Western living history group. I (mercifully) was dragged past their stall by one of the boys but Mrs DW was not so lucky - she was 'captured' and was treated to a full explanation of cowboy life. She said it was 'interesting', but I'm not sure about grown men dressing as cowboys!

They had a drawing (guns not crayons) contest among themselves before letting the youngsters have a go. For the record, the DW child who took part was runner-up in his duel - Boot Hill for him, then.

Signs of the times

2007-08-14T11:22:00.000+01:00

The Dog Walker family has just been away for the weekend, more of which later.

First, a little test. No smoking, keep off the grass - common enough 'instructions'. But where would you be banned from the activities below? I know, it seems most unfair to ban two simple everyday pleasures most of us indulge in every day!

I just called to say . . .

2007-07-30T21:31:00.000+01:00

An hour and a quarter just to be shown how a phone works!

We're having a new VOIP system installed at work this week and we've all had to have 'training' in readiness. Now call me old fashioned, but I reckon a phone is just for picking up and talking to people . . . simple. Well, not if you use one of these jobbies.

Why do I need 99 quick dial numbers (I don't know 99 people!)?
Why do I need a built-in in-house directory with thousands of numbers?
Why do I need to know who's calling me when I've got to answer anyway?
Why does the caller need to listen to a tune if I'm transferring them?
Why do we need 30 ring tones? I can't wait for the cacophony.

Phones are just a nuisance anyway - people keep interrupting me!!!!!

Now don't get me started on mobiles . . .

Change is as good as a rest

2007-07-29T16:30:00.000+01:00

I've been blogging elsewhere for the last year or so and thought it might be an idea to try a different 'host'.

I've had a weekend of pottering around in the garden and doing a few chores - washing the kitchen floor, vacuuming my car etc . . . life in the fast lane!

I did take a few pictures in the garden yesterday.