Open Mouth, Insert Foot

Dear oh dear. I seem to have a most reliable talent for opening said mouth and inserting foot, often leaving enough space for both feet!

I worked till 3 minutes to midnight last night so didn't feel at all guilty when I went off to my lovely beautician Tanya, who valiantly tries to make my legs look less yeti-like than they are, and gives me other lovely, pampering treatments.

Each visit to her is a little oasis of me-time and pleasure. She's really sweet, a good listener and always upbeat. After I had done my usual babble and started to relax, I realised that the last few times I had been there she didn't look quite as... shiny... happy or sparkly as usual. With the unerring accuracy, and subtlety, of an excocet I asked if she was thinking about having any children (she married last year and is proving an excellent wedding planner and adviser). Open mouth. "Oh no!" said Tanya, "I've not really thought about it" and she went on to explain that she had become far too selfish and set in her ways. Insert foot. "Well, I think you'd make a great mum" said I and her whole energy changed. She told me that she had been trying for a year and even having acupuncture to help things along, but to no avail.

I'm booked in next week for a reflexology treatment - I've never had one before and I suspect I won't get one this time either as I think I shall pop Tanya on her own couch and work with her chakra energies - I don't know why I feel compelled to do this, but I gave up bucking my gut instincts long ago - this just feels right somehow.

Not Quite a Feathered Friend

I find I am torn between a desire to continue feeding the birds and to scrub the garage roof! Let me explain.

Our garage is half buried so that the roof is at about nose level to my towering 5' 3" tall and we regularly sprinkle sunflower hearts and suet pellets over the flat roof for the ground feeders, a pair of collared doves, the blackbird family, assorted chaffinches, about ten goldfinches, a gang of pugnacious greenfinches, Mr and Mrs Wagtail, a family of robins and a gang of quarrelsome starlings as well as my beloved jackdaws who swoop in furtively to grab a snack.

Last week I was sitting at my computer working away when I saw a strange movement on the garage roof and looked out. A very enterprising, brown, glossy rat scuttled across the roof, grabbed a suet pellet and dashed off again. My initial reaction was a pull between horror at seeing a rat and all the associations they have, and sheer admiration that he was so smart, clearly very healthy and fit and so very shrewd in finding such an easy food source. I watched as he made numerous trips, scampering across the garage roof, grabbing food and racing back to his access point. I realised that he was stock-piling as much as he could and as the minutes turned into an hour, he systematically cleared the large spray of suet pellets until there were none left.

Now, what do I do? We feed the birds and think nothing of it. I feel sure that if the neighbours saw ratty they'd be up in arms and totally horrified. Part of me doesn't want to encourage him back by leaving food out and yet, why is he so different from any other wildlife? It's a bit of a tough one and I still haven't resolved this. I have to admire such an intelligent creature and if I don't put food out, the birds will not get fed either. If I keep putting food out, will it encourage Mr Rat to start a family and cause an infestation of rats?

We have hanging bird feeders and the greenfinches and goldfinches will do fine, but the blackbirds, who I love dearly, will notice the lack of food as will the chaffinches and doves as they are all ground feeders. Kenaz bought a feeding platform, but it is only about 6" off the ground/roof level and I suspect it won't be any sort of hindrance to ratty, once he has had a moment to look at it. The only thing that has given me pause for thought is that near the end of the suet pellets, Mrs Blackbird landed and ratty ran at her very aggressively to chase her off; she flew away unharmed, but it didn't endear ratty to me.

I wish I could think of an easy solution to this dilemma but I can't. I can't get on to the garage roof to fill a high feeding table, there isn't space in my minuscule garden for a bird table, so the garage roof is the only place. Do I go for full wildlife including a rat or let the birds go hungry?

Pain In The Bum

I'm sitting in a Travel Inn near Huntingdon after visiting my trusty McTimoney Chiropractor in hopes of walking without pain.  Last week, I was feeling very lively and so confident that I dragged my suitcase down the Euston Road where I would normally leave it with the hotel concierge.  Since travelling to London, I have found that the concierge is very helpful and I can manage not to have to lift my suitcase at all if I smile sweetly.  Last week, however, I had been bouncing down the road with some energy and a distinct lack of creaking, so decided I was fine to do the suitcase drag, which would save me heaps of time and get me home earlier.  Bad plan.

I made the march along Euston Road, suitcase in tow and got to my destination without even going pink or breathless.  Yippee!!! Thought I, impressed at my increased fitness after loosing ten  pounds (none of it at the bookies) and recovering from a cold.  By the time I got to my destination, I was striding along like I haven't for ages.  Great stuff.  The bad bit of the plan was that I had to sit in a classroom for a whole day on the most unspeakably uncomfortable chairs ever built and I think my pelvis set itself wonky and stayed there.  No amount of stretching, painkillers or anti-inflammatories would allow me to sleep.  I couldn't lay on either side as the pain was too excruciating, laying on my back was like resting on a pile of hot coals and face down didn't feel much better as I had managed to pull my pubic synthesis out of line; sleep came through exhaustion.  

My lovely Chiropractor is a tiny lady, barely 5' tall and ex Navy, so quite a fierce, dynamic little bundle of energy, but someone I cannot rate highly enough.  She fixes me up if I fall or knock myself out of kilter with a brisk and cheery slap and tweak.  I have tried to find someone locally who can do the same, but after visiting 4 different Chiropractors and one Osteopath, all of whom seemed to want to heal my soul more than my poor, knackered old body, I gave up and decided it was worth driving over to the other side of the country when the need arose.

So, here I am, in a motel, propped in a comfortable chair, with a mug of fruit tea and even though parts of me feel like they are on fire, I can move and walk without looking like I have lost my horse!  The bonus of this long trip is that I have landed near to where my son lives and he came to visit me after work.  We went for dinner and it was such a treat.  He has grown into a really nice man and is wonderful company and a really entertaining conversationalist.

All this pain has had a good outcome.  I may be sore at the moment, but I don't take walking freely for granted, I had a wonderful evening with my son and I'm missing 'Im Indoors madly.  I suppose sometimes you just need a good old pain in the bum to realise that life is really rather good - it puts things in perspective.  Yup, life is good, thank you very much! 

A Handfasting Gift

Last week I opened an unfamiliar looking envelope; it wasn't a bill wrapped in brown, it wasn't a bank statement and it didn't look like junk mail. There's something marvellously exciting about opening snail mail when you know it is not a bill. Electronic communications are all fine and well, speedy and efficient, but they don't touch me in the same way that I can't touch them. The delight of knowing that a friend has taken the time to write, seek out a card they think is perfect or will make you laugh, going to the trouble of getting the thing in the post - it makes such a difference.

Back to my envelope... The contents were odd - not flat and all very intriguing. It was a three fold card, printed with a lovely message to wish us well on our Handfasting and a gift of crops to someone in Africa so they can grow their own produce on an allotment and feed themselves and have some to sell on or trade. Inside the package was a sachet of giant Russian sunflower seeds for planting in our garden, which is a lovely way to remind us of the gift all through the summer. The Oxfam Unwrapped gifts are such a delight, especially when you're my age and you have more tea towels and toasters than you know what to do with!

We had wondered about making a list and got totally flummoxed about it, as we're not really in need of anything for our home. We had seen the wedding list of a couple I was slightly acquainted with and it listed such interesting things as a Saville Row suit, paying for a honeymoon suite in a Cuban hotel, buying either of the grooms Churches shoes or even paying for a bouncer to guard the club door on the night of the wedding party. It was an interesting list to read, but somehow I found it rather.... rude. I had always thought of wedding lists as helping a young couple to start out in their own home and the gifts being something for them to use to begin that life. Now, this may seem like a rant, but two highly paid city types ought to be able to buy their own outfits, surely?! I digress. We talked about making a list and then gave up talking about it because there wasn't anything we could think of and it seemed greedy and pointless. For us, it was more important that the friends we care about shared our celebration and pitched up, than the material things.

Anyway, when I read the message in the envelope, it made me cry. I was so touched as it came from someone who I think of as a dear friend, even though we mostly communicate by electrons. More than anything, it made me cry because it turned up on the date of another postponement and reminded me that it's all turning into a bit of a comedy of errors. Imbolc was supposed to be the date we finally got around to it - not necessarily the legal bit, but certainly the making of vows. I had picked the date as it seemed like a good time - growing light, the moon phase was good and all it needed was a little organisation. Well, it didn't happen. There is now a date scheduled in September and the legal bit is booked, the honeymoon sorted but each time I ask, there's always a reason to not sit down and sort out the detail. I do wonder if we will end up postponing again, the way things are going.

So, I have a dilemma: do I return this lovely gift, that was given in such good heart (though I'm not sure it is possible to do it), do I keep the card and seeds tucked away in case things actually happen, or do I admit that after four failed dates, the fifth is likely to go the same way and if so, what on earth do I do with the gift? I have had pen poised over a thank you card and I really don't know what to say. If things do happen, I would want this person to be at the celebration, but maybe it is the leaden gloom of another wet, cloudy day in February that is making me pessimistic... I'm not sure how to handle this.