Category Archives: winter

Happy Valentine’s Day

Happy Valentine’s Day!

I’m just sitting and waiting for the postman to arrive with sackloads of post for me so while I’m waiting I’ll fill you in on some of the weekend’s news.  Are you ready?

The here we go!

Hold on to your hat for the  roller coaster ride that has been the last few days.

The weather decided to spice things up even more by dumping millions of gallons of freezing rain on us over the course of about eight hours.

Our drive looked like peanut brittle, all the gaps between the stones having been filled in with ice and then another nice layer of ice on top for good measure. I saw a 2p coin on the ground and  went to pick it up to discover that it had a 1/2 inch covering of ice over it. There it was glistening,  gently packed in the middle of  it’s own little ice cube.


After having watched Boofuls attempt and fail to get the van up the track and back to proper roads and civilisation, Big N decided that the best course of action would be to walk to work. I watched from the warmth of the living room as he slipped and slithered, skated and slid up the hill.  He tried to perform a glissade at one point  to make it all look effortless and slightly more elegant but discovered too late  that there was nothing underfoot to get any kind of purchase on so  he ended up clinging helplessly to the stone wall while his feet slid in all directions. I could practically see the steam coming our of his ears as he was dragging himself stone by stone along the wall the top of the hill. The comedy value of it was excellent, I very nearly peed!  It’s just a shame that the downhill descent was round the corner and I couldn’t watch. I’m certain that was just as entertaining.

Boofuls in the meantime had abandoned the van in the field and slithered back for my car. Condemned as it is, it is still a 4WD and quite useful in bad weather.  The car got up the track with very little trouble and off they went to work.

All well and good. Until.

The time came when I had to leave the house. Now sans car my only option was to walk into town. Not particularly keen to carry out a repeat of Bg N’s performance of a couple of hours earlier I devised a cunning plan.

The slidy boot test.

Lining all my boots up by the front door I knelt on the ground and scrubbed the sole of each boot in turn along the icy surface outside to see which boot was the least slidy.

Big furry yeti boots? Nope.

Trendy fashion boot? Nope.

Walking boots? Nope. They were the worst!

Wellies? Yep.

Six thousand layers of clothes later and I was all ready for the walk into town. The slidy boot test paid off because although it was most certainly still slippery, there wasn’t a repeat of Big N’s performance and I managed to reach my destination in one piece  if not at all stylishly dressed.

I’ll fill you in on the rest of the weekend’s exciting tales in the next installment.

Happy days are here again!

Not really, that title was a total lie but it made me think for a second of sunny skies and the kind of warmth that seeps in to your bones and just makes everything alright with the world. If I just use a bit more imagination I can pretend that I’m in the Caribbean. I might help the process along by sticking some merengue music on and pouring myself a nice large Morgan’s Spiced Rum.  By the time Boofuls gets home I could be swinging from the ceiling!

Thanks for your lovely comments while I was feeling sorry for myself. They really did make a difference and I’m nearly over it now. By nearly over it I mean I’ve stopped crying.

Things picked up fairly quickly yesterday afternoon. Not least because we had a dance lesson for the first time since teacher became ill in December. Isn’t it funny how you don’t realise how much you’ve missed something until it’s back. It wasn’t Teacher teaching us, he’s still far too poorly, it was his business partner, Lottie. It felt a bit strange having a different teacher but we soon all settled down. A quick brush up on a few waltz steps and a run through of the paso doble went a long way to restoring my spirits.

First thing this morning I had to drop my car off for yet another major operation just to get it to a point where it’s good enough to sell on. So after another cold and frosty night I scraped all the ice off the windscreen and set off on my to way to drop it off at the garage and then walk to my friend’s house to meet up for our weekly Weight Watchers weigh in. Apart from a small detour to the studio to drop off some stuff, that was pretty much the plan for this morning.  The car park at the studio is a bit icy at the moment. Not icy as in a ‘Watch your step, it’s a bit icy’,  kind of way. It’s more of a ‘Grab your skates and let’s put on our own Dancing on Ice show’, kind of way. I’ve seen quite a few people over the last few days use a bit of nifty footwork in order to stay upright on that car park, including me.

Just as I was leaving the studio it started to rain. The rain hit the icy ground, the icy car, the icy windows and instantly froze. The rain was even freezing as it hit the windscreen of the car and turning it into a nice frosted window, handy if you’re in a bathroom, not so handy if you’re driving a car. I had to stop every few hundred yards to clear it away until the heater kicked in enough to clear it.

The car was dropped off at the garage with instructions to phone me when it was ready and then, safe in the knowledge that I was properly dressed for the occasion in my walking boots and thick wooly socks ( as well as a few other items, not juts boots and socks. What do you think I am, some kind of weirdo? Ew!)   I set off  to bezzie mates, walking with my usual brisk ‘ don’t mess with me, weather, I’m a fell walker’ gait.

Five minutes into the walk;


Down I went on the icy pavement, sprawled on the floor like a tortoise stuck on it’s back.

Now,  in this situation there is a tried and trusted series of events that must be followed – and I followed them to the letter.

1. Lie winded on the ground for a moment wondering what the hell just happened while mentally determining if any bones have been broken or vertebrae thrown out of alignment. Check.

2. Look around quickly to establish that no one saw you fall. Check

N.B. Items No. 1 and 2 are interchangeable.

3. Leap  to your feet (Ok, it was more of a slippery, slidy, ungainly scramble to my feet using both hands and knees but it still counts.) Check.

4. Continue on your way as if nothing had happened, ignoring the stinging in whatever parts of your body hit the ground and trying not to limp/cry/rant at the unfairness of life.  Check.

To be honest, people were falling over like nine pins. The main problem being that the streets looked wet, not icy. Cars were skating round all over the place, it was a bit like a three ring circus in the town centre.  I saw traffic officers turn up to guide cars unable to stop going down the hills safely onto the main roads and I saw more than one person clinging to a lamp post too frightened to let go. You don’t feel quite so foolish when just about everyone is throwing themselves onto the ground with wild abandon.

Bezzie mate and me met up for Weightwatchers. I’m not talking about that bit because I’m just too narked. Why can’t I be a natural size 10, dammit? Half a pound indeed. At this rate it’ll be *counts on fingers and toes*……a bloody long time till I’m a size 10!

After Weightwatchers I  picked the car back up  and made my way home.


Very, very slowly.

The track down to our house isn’t so much a road as a bobsleigh run at the moment. Even the bits that don’t look frozen are frozen solid. That was an exciting journey!

Icy track

The highlight of the day so far though has to be when I let the cat out of the back door. He ran out , skidded sideways on the ice and then tried and failed to regain his footing, running on the spot like a cartoon character before slithering off with his little  legs going ten to the dozen,  howling like a banshee. Was it too cruel of me to laugh?

I would go down to the barn to get the bag of salt and grit that I know we have stored in there for when we need to to de-ice the path – but I can’t get down to the barn because it’s just too icy and dangerous. Which means that it’s too dangerous to make it safe.

You have to love winter. Where’s the spiced rum?

It’s here, It’s here!

No, silly, not Christmas, that’s been and gone.

I’m talking about that elusive snow.

We’ve been spoilt for snow for the last two winters and I’ve been hoping for the same this year.  Every time the sky gets cloudy  (which is all the time) I’ve been looking at it hopefully and declaring, “Oooooh, it looks like it might snow.” Of course all we’ve had instead is rain, millions and millions of gallons of the bloody stuff and it’s brought it’s bully boy friend along as well, a stiff and cold wind,  to make things even more unpleasant.

Now, don’t try telling me that rain is just snow in a different form, you know,  like they say rain is liquid sunshine in the Caribbean, it won’t wash with me. Rain in Blighty is just rain – except when it’s miserable, driving, icy cold rain –  then it’s just ‘orrible rain.

I want my snow! Proper, white, fluffy, finger tingling, snow – and make it deep and crisp and even, as it says in the song. It’s been here by October for the last couple of years. What’s it done, gone and buggered off on a round the world cruise for a few months?

For days now the weather forecasters have been teasing us with it; ‘ It’s going to snow! The snow’s on it’s way.’ Only to follow it up with; ‘ Oh no, fooled ya! It was only hail, snow’s poor relation.’


They’ve been promising us snow for  over a week now and I’ve just about imploded with excitement. Did I mention I love snow?

It’s much heralded and imminent arrival has been causing so much excitement. It’s been the talking point in this area for days.

“Have you heard? It’s to snow tonight.” “Oh, I heard it was Monday.”  “Really? I saw gritters on the motorway so that must mean it’ll snow tonight.” and so on.

Love it or loath it, everyone’s  talking about it and constantly looking out of the window to see if it’s arrived. Until finally, this afternoon…….


Now admittedly it’s a bit watery and insipid, not the big, fat, fluffy  saucer sized flakes that quickly cover everything and make it look like a winter wonderland – but it’s a start. Hopefully it will get into the swing of things after it’s long vacation and build up to a proper snowfall overnight. If it does I’ll worry  about how I’m going to get to work on Sunday. Until then I’m going to enjoy every glorious minute of it.

Let it snow, let it snow, let it snow!!

What’s good for the goose

Tuesday evening was a nice affair. The family came up for a few drinkies, both my sisters came to visit but the brothers cried off – well, one cried off, one wasn’t invited but that’s a whole different story.

The track down to our house had got the better of the family’s various cars. It had started to rain and the ice was had become as slippery as as a bobsleigh run. That of course meant that  people had to be ferried in the 4 x 4 up and down the track to the road which ended up looking a bit like a car park as we were clearly not the only people needing to park on the road in order to make any kind of getaway.

Slipping ( no pun intended) on Boofuls’ big coat and not bothering to change my footwear I made my first trip. I had to stop at the top of our track because just round the bend was a car coming up the slope.

As is customary where we live, I reversed out the way so they’d have a clear run at it. The car tried and failed to get up the slope, it slid backwards, moved forwards, slid backwards a bit more that sat at the bottom of the slope, totally blocking my exit. Isn’t it funny how a tiny slope which you hardly even notice normally becomes like mount Everest when it’s got ice on it? The driver was clearly perplexed.

I sat for a minute or two, painfully aware that The Rev and the kids were waiting for me in their car on the road.

Still the car sat.

I’ll encourage them out of the way, I thought. They can’t get up so they’ll have to go back, they can’t just sit there, they can see I’m waiting.

Inching my way down the hill eventually I was in front of the other car which still showed no signs of wanting to move in any direction. Irritated now, I chatted for a minute with a couple of the local residents who had come out to watch the show, enjoying every moment of it.  Mocking non residents who struggle with the terrain is considered sport round these parts.That was the most entertainment they’d had all Christmas, given another couple of minutes they’d have been bringing out chairs and selling tickets, we don’t get out much up here, see.

Sighing, I got out of the car and trudged through the slushy ice to the other car, already having a pretty good idea about who it was that was causing uproar in our normally tranquil neighbourhood.  I was right.

“Hhhmmmmph, thought it was you.” I announced grumpily to my sister. ” as the snow seeped through my slippers.

” I can’t get it up!”

Keeping a straight face, I let that one pass without comment. No mean feat, I can tell you.

“Well stop trying and park out the way or follow me back out and I’ll bring you in.”

The end result was that I crammed people  into my car like sardines. The Rev, Gembolina and the clingons as well as Little Sis and her partner.  people were having to sit on the knees of people they hadn’t even been introduced to. There’s nothing else for it – they’ll have to get married now.

With the car all crammed with people as it was it’s a good job we were on private land, If the police had seen a car loaded up like that we’d have ended up on a ‘Stop! Police! programme, shamed forever!

Now, you’ve heard of the Ghost Whisperer, right?  It’s that programme with Jennifer Love Hewitt, or as Big N prefers to call her, Jennifer Love Hugetits.

Well now she has a rival, it’s me: The Goose Whisperer.

Once we had everyone safely back at our house, drinks in hand and all comfortable and warm I was busying myself in the kitchen preparing mountains of food when I heard a shout:

“There’s a goose at the window!”

‘There’s a goose at the window? They must be playing charades or  Name That Tune’ though I must confess it isn’t a song title I know. You hum it and I’ll join in.

No!  Really!  There IS a goose at the window. And bugger me, there was!

Lost Goose

Terrible photo, I know. It was foggy and the flash bounced off the fog and the goose tried to run away, the sod just wouldn’t pose!

The poor creature was in a terrible state, clearly close to death, slipping and sliding everywhere, falling over, cold, wet and very unhappy. Big N went to turn the oven on (ever the chef!)  I went out to catch it while Boofuls phoned the neighbours to ask who’d lost a goose. Not the kind of question you ever think you’ll find yourself asking but it just goes to show – you never know.

No! Course I didn’t go out to catch it so we could stuff it in the oven, it’s somebody’s pet!  Puh-lease!!!

It didn’t put up much of a fight. I thought it would be flapping and biting so I took a bath towel out with me to throw over it but to be honest the poor thing was so weak that all I had to do was bend down and pick it up as it fell over when I approached it. One of the neighbours came trudging down the hill to reclaim his goose. They’d been out looking for it all evening. He practically kissed it when he took it from me. They really do love their animals round here (there are all sorts of jokes that could spring from that last comment but I’m going to be a grown up and resist them all).

So, all’s well that ends well in the goose department, the latest info is that goosie is recovering nicely.

More Snow

I think  I should live in Canada or the North Pole or Norway. Anywhere that has copious amounts of snow every year because I just love it.

The adult in me always says, “Oh no! It’s going to cause chaos.”   We have to change plans, manage with one car, arrange our days round the car, pick up the post from the post office because they won’t come near us once the snow appears.  In short, it causes major disruption to our lives and yet I still love it.

It has the effect of instantly bringing out my inner child (never far from the surface at the best of times). When the snow is falling, as it is now, I can’t stop myself from going over to the window every few minutes to squeal with delight.  The heavier it falls, the louder I squeal. Anyone would think I’d never seen it before.

The weather forecasters seem to know about my love of snow and tease me with it mercilessly. When I take a look at the 5 day forecast, it always seems to be two or three days away. The number of times they’ve promised me snow and then downgraded it to rain or to nothing at all is heartless in the extreme. I’ve written and complained to them that “I WANT MY SNOW. YOU PROMISED ME SNOW!’

They’ve delivered it today, huuuuuuge, white, fluffy drifts or perfect, slippery, dangerous, gorgeous snow.  (Hold on – I have to go and have another look out the window).

In truth I could have done without the howling gale that’s arrived with it but you can’t have everything.  I’m just happy it’s snowing. I’ll be getting my wellies on later and making the most of it before it goes away again.


A few days ago I had occasion to take one of my close friends to the  A & E unit. When I say A & E unit what I really mean is the Portakabin outside the hospital.

Luckily it was early in the afternoon not late in the evening when we might have been privy to the local wino’s daily A & E pantomime. As it was there was  mostly just an assortment of of people, old and young, with  injuries caused by people slipping on ice and smacking bits of themselves against lamposts and the like.

My friend and me sat at one side of the waiting room against a wall and there was a block of chairs separating us from the young man  who caught my eye sat across from us against the opposite wall.  He was shuffling round in his seat quite a lot and making noisy phone calls to a succession of people who seemed not to know who he was, a point that was clearly beginning to frustrate him.  Eventually he gave up on the phone calls and went quiet for a while.

Then he leaned forward in his seat, we thought he was going to be ill so we kept a wary eye on him for any signs of projectile vomit as he was directly opposite us, putting us in his line of fire. The next thing we noticed was that he was holding a bottle down to the floor and I could see that some kind of liquid was being  put into it. “Oh no!! He’s peeing in a bottle’… he?   Closer (discreet) inspection revealed that the liquid was pink and sparkling. Probably not pee then.

It turned out he was decanting Rose Lambrini from a large bottle hidden in his coat into a smaller pop bottle so he could swig out of it openly and not get challenged as everyone would think it was pop. Clever eh? I wish I’d thought of it. I could have done with a g & t just about then.  Our emotions ranged from ‘let’s get the hell out of here’ to pity for the young chap who could have been more than 25 years old and was in such a state.

My God, you see life in an A & E unit, don’t you?


I was having a clean up of all my email boxes this morning and I found this one which I’d forgotten about.  It made me laugh, hope it gives you a little chuckle as well. This man has the best name in the world:

Phani Tikkala

It’s probably the moustache that does it.


Then there’s this chap:


You’d probably want him on your side, eh?


Christmas Eve

So, here it is, Christmas Eve.

Actually,  7.00 a.m. on Christmas Eve.

Is it the excitement of the big day tomorrow or the thought of all the work I have to get through between now and then to make the magic happen for the family that has driven me out of my bed at such a stupidly early hour when I’m not working or could it something a bit more mundane? Something like, for instance, the snore meister driving out of my warm, comfy bed once again?

Yup. You got it in one. It’s the snore meister striking again. I could have done a bit of striking of my own but decided that it wouldn’t be good for marital harmony. No amount of bellowing “SHUDDUP!” in his ear or poking him with a sharp elbow made any difference so I got up to chat with you instead.

I’m feeling a bit cheated in the Christmas tree department this year. The tree we got is undoubtedly very beautiful, bedecked as it is in all it’s finery. It isn’t a hump backed tree or suffering from any kind of male pattern baldness, it doesn’t lean awkwardly and is beautifully proportioned, it isn’t stunted in height nor does it go in for streaking by shedding all it’s needles every time everyone looks at it the wrong way.

Sounds like a perfectly well behaved, polite and well brought up tree, doesn’t it.  It just has the one MAJOR fault.

It smells of………..nothing.

Where’s the gorgeous evocative christmas tree smell that fills me with nostalgia and makes my tum tickle with excitement at the thought of Christmas being just a few days away? There isn’t even a whiff of it. Before you ask. No. I didn’t buy a fake tree by mistake.  I know there are some very good ones around but even I’m not that stupid, stressful as it’s been over the last week or two.

Am I?  I’d better go and check. No. It’s definitely real!

I may have to go and squirt toilet cleaner all over it to make it smell of pine and then tie a few cinnamon sticks to it for added depth and then get a dog or two to pee up it for the finishing touches.

My poor posh cat has had a time of it this last week or two.

Firstly, I set about him with a grooming brush and clippers a couple of weeks ago.  Every winter his fur gets matted but this year it was worse than normal so I ended up clipping huge great rugs from each side of him. I’ve since been seen down the local market hawking thses rugs since his fur is as lovely and soft as pashmina. I got a good price for them as well, I can tell you. Great lumps of cat fur are now gracing the doorsteps of local gentry.  I’ve also been selling the fur that I’ve extracted as I’ve combed him to local gypsies who have been sending it to the gnome down the road to weave  into a tapestry for the forthcoming royal wedding. (I’ve been watching too many pantomimes!).

What? Don’t believe me? You don’t think one cat can possibly have had that much fur removed? Well just take a look:

One very Pi55ed off cat

So apart from the shame of being shaved and sporting a very trendy (if I say so myself) mohican. The poor creature has since developed a problem with his ear. I noticed it the other night when he sat under the Christmas tree crying. I thought he was crying because it had no scent and he felt a bit cheated but it turned out he was crying because a lump the size of a grape had appeared in his ear and was clearly causing him great distress.

Off to the vet we popped. The cat had needles stuck into his ears and came out minus 10 mls of blood that they drained off his ear. I came out  minus the £60 they drained off me.  All’s well that end’s well, I hear you thinking.

But no, that would be far too simple. After risking losing my face administering the ear drops as I’d been instructed, I noticed the lump had returned.

Bloody hell!

Back to the vet’s we popped, this time with the cat growling ‘ you’re gonna pay for this, bitch’ under his breath at me all the way.

The vet stuck the needle in his ear again. And again. And again. All the while the cat looked at me malevolently, the threat of retribution in his eye as he held my gaze.  “We need a bigger syringe,” the vet announced. The cat’s legs buckled, as did mine. Poor kitty had a huge needle stuck in his ear followed by another one, this time injecting him with steroid.

Steroid! Don’t give him steriods!! He’ll be wrestling Great Danes to the ground with one paw!  Not to mention what he’s going to do to me when we get home!!

With instructions to give him yet more ear drops, this time in both ears, we were sent away once again, ear and wallet both stinging.

Unsurprisingly, the cat won’t come near me now. He sits on the landing,  kissing his steroid built muscles like a body builder and staring at me as if daring me to approach him. The ear drop game is developing into the sport of cat wrestling.  I think we may start to sell tickets soon. If I’m going to lose my face via the cat’s claws I may as well make some money out of it!

The snow and ice have resolutely stayed with us. As you already know, I love this weather. Not so much when it comes to driving on it but you can’t have everything.

Isn’t it funny how you develop new strategies and adapt behaviours as conditions change?

I used to get in my car and drive away. Easy.

Now I get in my car, sit sideways on the seat and clap my feet together like a seal for a minute or two. Not for the entertainment of passing strangers, or in the hope of getting the odd mackerel thrown to me, you understand. It’s to get rid of all the ice on my boots before I set off driving. One scare too many in the, ‘feet sliding off brake pedal’  department  soon taught me that strategy – and if I get the occasional mackerel as a result then that’s just a bonus, isn’t it?

Just to keep the winter theme going, here are a few more photos:

icy reservoir
winter walk
icy cobweb
icy leaf

And finally: Hasn’t Baby Bunting grown?

Baby Bunting

Snap, snap, snap

It’s a snappy old week one way and another, the cold snap continues and I’m loving it. The temperature has hardly risen above zero for well over a week now but it’s as still and crisp as a crispy still thing and positively calls out to me to grab the dog and get walking.

If only I could, just as the weather is perfect, I’m picking up work left, right and centre. My shutter button finger has definitely worked overtime this week and will continue to do so. I’ve been snapping away almost every day. Long may THAT continue!

Boofuls has had a busy old time at work as well, for the first time in years the Christmas rush really is a rush and not just a small blip on the monthly turnover chart.  In addition to that, some  of my family are having a few domestic issues and it’s causing a few people to be a bit snappy. Honestly, it’s like walking on eggs.  The word ‘tosser’ has been bandied around a lot more than usual this week.

I remember the days when a tosser was a huge Scots bloke with a penchant for chucking tree trunks around, when did it evolve into a pejorative word? Or is it  even being uses as a pejorative word at all, maybe the people using it know something I don’t?

Have hoards of Caledonians secretly emigrated south due to the extreme cold in Scotland to introduce their bizarre sport to we  Sassenachs?  I mean, if blokes are going to wear skirts and no knickers it is going to get a wee bit draughty round the old Trossachs, isn’t it?   It must be feeling positively tropical here, south of the border.

What about their training kit?  Their kit bags must be huge! Do they carry their preferred tree round with them or do they cut a new one down every time the want to practice? No wonder deforestation is a problem if that’s the case.

I don’t think there’s too much chance of tossing taking hold as a sport in this immediate area, have you seen the scrawny wee runts round here? Most of them would have trouble lifting anything heavier than a can of lager and a fag ( that’s cigarette, to you Americans). Good job really, I don’t fancy walking down the street to have cabers flying at from from all directions as the tossers  get down to work.  it sounds a bit hazardous to me.

Talking of work: today  my lunchtime photo shoot has been cancelled as the sprog has a cold so I’m off to meet a bride to be to schmooze her into booking us to shoot her wedding. Better get moving.

It’s beginning to look even more like Christmas

The snow came! Not the huge amounts we were promised an continue to be promised by the Met Office, but it came. When I look at the weather forecast it always says we are due heavy snow tomorrow – and of course tomorrow never comes so it’s always tantalisingly close but never actually makes it.  Still there’s enough to make me and the dog happy and enough to mean Booful’s car is stuck on the drive and my super duper 4WD is working overtime.

This photo is from the University of Dundee and shows just how much of the country is covered:

UK snowfall _50265949_uk_snow_dundeeuni

Some places have even had two feet of snow:

two feet of snow. source: unknown

Here are a few photos, taken on my phone, from our walks over the last couple of days.

Snow, grass, trees
snow, tree
snow, grass

Not that I am likening myself in any way or putting myself in the same league as the great John Chang McCurdy but I am most certainly influenced by his gorgeous snow photographs. They are simple, elegant, moving and very zen like in their simplicity – I can only aspire. Sigh.

Mrs Woofy has certainly been enjoying the snow. She’s been making doggy snow angels and snuffling round in it before setting off at a breakneck speed sending snow everywhere. She’s had so much fun she’s been like a dog with two tails:

dog with two tails

Hang on a minute! She IS a dog with two tails!  How did that happen?  Answers on a postcard please. The correct/best answer or the one that makes me laugh wins.  I’ll tell you how it happened after the closing date of Sunday – whatever time I happen to be blogging.

The only trouble with the snow is that everything grinds to a halt.  Snuggling up under a blanket with a hot chocolate and watching telly all night is ok once – maybe twice.  To someone like me with the attention span and boredom level of a gnat it quickly becomes tedious.  This week our agility class was cancelled, our dog  obedience class as well as our salsa class and ballroom lesson. Nothing else for it: GET THE SLEDGE OUT!!!

The denizens of Darwen have been busily trimming up over the last month or so. Generally we wait till after big N’s birthday but I’m itching to get on the trimming bandwagon so we’ll be doing it on the 11th, a week earlier than normal. I was a bit surprised to see real christmas trees in the shops by the last week of November. It’d be a dead, bald, glittery skeleton by christmas day.

Boofuls has been busily practicing his Scrooge impression.  He’s been under pressure at work as staff have been dropping like flies and for the first time in years the christmas rush has really been a rush and there is more work than he can keep up with.  Two important warehousemen down the other day, he was on the phone to a customer  who mentioned that The Rev seemed to be under a lot of pressure and he could do with a bit of help.

“I’ll give him the number of the Samaritans,he can ring ’em after work” growled Boofuls, drily.

You’re all heart, mate.

As you know I recently decided to redecorate our bedroom. After everything had been spruced up and pared to within an inch of it’s life, I decided that what was lacking was a picture. I took the orchid from the kitchen and  placed in the bedroom so that it had my newly painted wall behind it with the sun shining through, gently diffused, then I shot a few frames. This is the result. You likey?

white orchids

It looks ace its dark wood frame with an off white mount. I’m quite pleased with my little self.