Putting the Old Girl to Bed

We thought you might like to see these update pictures of the Sailing Barge Cambria and the excellent progress being made by Tim Goldsack and his team of Shipwrights. This is the old girl one year into the three year project. You can see that all the double-curve timbers are in place at the stern ("transom" actually; we barge-dogs do not talk of sterns).

The main pic shows the hull framing almost done - there are just a couple more to assemble at the bow. On the left of the pic you can see a load of planking has arrived, and in the centre the steel "I" beams which are the "keelson" awaiting assembly and joining. Barges, being designed flat-bottomed to let them come up shallow tidal creeks, do not have a keel projecting down below. The stiffness comes from this internal girder along the barge's length.

The keel's job (stopping the barge sliding sideways when the wind blows across the boat) is done by big tear-drop shaped "lee boards" either side of the hull, which are let down on the leeward side (down-wind side) while sailing.

Finally a pic, for fun of the Christmas tree the lads have rigged up on the canopy. Today was Dad and his chum Richard's last day at looking after the Visitor Centre and showing people round the barge till after Christmas, so as they locked up and turned everything off it felt a bit like putting the old girl top bed.

Goodnight Cambria. Have a peaceful Christmas

Deefski

Groomer and the Guitar Man

Our electric power suppliers, British Gas, via distributor EDF (mais oui!) seem to have lost the plot lately. 6 times since the 4th of Dec, the house has been plunged into darkness and the humans, who have poor night vision compared to we dogs, have been reduced to candle light and early nights. Fun and romantic the first time - candle lit supper, coal fire, chatting etc (weh heh!), this has now lost its novelty value. I can't get on here, and Mum can't get on with the fast-encroaching Open Univ assignment deadline.

This leads to Mum on the phone last night giving out (politely and sweetly, natch) to 6 different "Customer Services" (Hah!) types of increasing rank and decreasing ability to pass the buck. The buck, in this case, a feisty human female with her posh voice turned on, and her previous studies with the OU concerning contract law, Provision of Goods and Services Act, the Sale of Goods Act and a raft of case law with names like "Bloggs Electricity supply company vs. Forsyth, 1992" etc. Go Mum! Lambs to the slaughter.

We're off out that night anyway, over to visit Mum and Dad's chums Guitar Man and "The Groomer", plus Norfolk terriers Dylan (who we've met and has featured in this blog before) and newer pup Molly, 9 months old. The Groomer (as I can now call her) was formerly "The Refrigeration Plant in Supermarkets Service Consultant" (not such a snappy title), but we're happy to report that she's now jacked all that in and set up in business as a dog groomer / dog creche in their village.

She is rapidly building a client base and has many pics of poshly groomed dogs, including westies, on the cork-board. There is hope for me yet! The Groomer has a newly fitted out extensive summer-house as a workshop with hydraulic tables, huge-dog sized bath with walk-in ramp at one end, along with racks of lotions and potions, clippers, combs and scissors plus, of course, dog treats.

Mum and Dad have promised us that we will be treated to a pampering day after Christmas, as soon as the weather starts to warm up. We will, of course, let you know how you get on. Diamond, too, is interested on behalf of Rags, though if Groomer can make either Ragworth or myself look like posh show-dogs, then she will come heartily reccommended, and we will shout her name from the roof tops.

It was a good evening. We three dogs packed it with Dylan and Molly (I only had one scrap with Molly, but you do, don't you. Can't have everyone thinking I have become an angel), while Mum and Dad, plus Guitar Man, Groomer and a couple of chums of our hosts, ate, drank, crossed the road to join in the proper carol singing on the church green and wandered down to a superb micro-pub called the Butcher's Arms (Real Ales are us!) - they weren't even too rude in there about Dad's Shepherd Neame sweatshirt !

http://www.micropub.co.uk/

Back at the house all dogs collapsed on furniture while Dad and Guitar Man played guitar (brilliantly) and sang (badly), while Mum attempted to master the intricacies of the computer game Wii Sport (Tennis). Apart from wanting to call it "Why -Aye!" instead of "Wee", it was amusing to see Mum thrashing at thin-air with her gadget, while the player on the screen completely missed the incoming baseline volley. The screen even did the whistle of the "racket" through the air like a Zorro sword-slash, without the accompanying "thwack" of ball on catgut.

Wet weekend on the cards, though there is talk of us buying our Christmas Tree.

Have a good one
Deefer

Mars, the bringer of.....

Dad's home late again and is meeting his 2CV cronies tonight for their Christmas Meal, so it's looking like a rather short walk round the Rec. Kind of OK, in the dark, and I can chase Haggis provided I don't annoy him too much, but near then end of the stroll a superb encounter.

Little 19 week old Jack Russell cross Dachshund, "Mars". We see him first by his red flashing collar - more like a hareem bangle than a full collar. It's an incomplete circle, which springs back into a loose neck "bracelet" but is lit up all along its length like a fairground light stick. Either end is a rounded "lump" which flashes brightly. A great thing all together!

Anyway, Mars is whizzy and playful and just enough slower than me that I can lead him a merry chase, when he's not piling onto Megan or Haggis, that is. We dash and dart round trees and bins and up and down banks, visible mainly by the blur of flashing red brilliance. Gustav Holst, you got it wrong - this Mars was the bringer of pace, craziness and red flashing light.

He didn't want it to stop. His owner eventually gathered him up and walked off a couple of tens of yards, put him down, where upon he raced back to us. Again the man carried him - a hundred yards this time and again he chased back to restart the game. The third time he was gathered up and carried off the Rec to the start of the long bridge, and this time he did not re-appear, so we guess he was distracted successfully and taken home.

Nice to meet you, Mars. Most excellent dog!
Deefer

It Takes all sorts

Down to Hastings and the Pud Lady's place at the weekend (we love her wild wooded garden with its heaps of leaves and compost piles, plus (we found) holes in the fence that we could sneak through if we wanted to explore the neighbours! Dad tells me that when they were kids, he and the brothers would nip over this fence to scrump a few windfalls from the neighbours' apple trees - those trees are still there!)

There, as a change from (Snake and Pigmy) Pud cooked by the Pud Lady, a hot buffet is being prepared by Dad's Sis-in-Law and Brother M.A. who are there with the 17 year old twins, M and L. This will give Pud-Lady a break, as she is a bit unsteady on her pins at present, and Stamp Man is also getting to be tricky manouvring from house to car to pub and back for the "up to now" format of Clan gatherings, a meal in the Queen's Head in Icklesham. Confused yet?

Anyway, the point of this story, is that "that family" are completely non-dog people. Sis-in-Law professes to hate them (us), Twin-M sings off the same sheet as S-i-L, M.A. can take them or leave them, and Twin L is the only one who's had any dog-contact, via a girlfriends dog. This completely confuses the three of us. No amount of schmoozing, or looking up adoringly and cutely (even by King-of-Cute Haggis!) gets us any fussing, or a ruffle of the head hair, or lap space from these three, and only Twin-L can be persuaded.

Doubly confusing, as Pud-Lady and Stamp Man had a dog, and are quite up for a bit of petting and lap-surfing. There is no accounting for taste, we suppose, and Mum and Dad tell us not to take anything personally. They just do not have dog-lovin' in their genes. No matter. We still have a good day, and it's good to be there.

Confused
Deefer

Kookie the Labradoodle

Saturday afternoon sees Haggis, Dad and I down in Challock Forest (we leave Meggie behind, tired from this morning and more than happy to be distracted by Mum as we sidle off) in the wet sloppy leaves and mud. Plenty of dogs again, in the bright, warm sunshine, and we make friends with 13 week old black labradoodle, Kookie.

She's still on the lead and her owner is trying to teach her not to jump up enthusiastically at everyone they meet. Dad doesn't help, with his "Heyyyyy! Little dog!" vigorous greetings, and with Haggis and I chasing around, the pup-training session gets forgotten for a while.

We're in the mood for some "off-piste", today. striking off through the plantations and cutting corners between paths by diving off the main tracks between the trees. It's more tiring than an easy lope along a hard track, but much more fun sniffing out wildlife trackways and animal holes.

Haggis manages to keep reasonably clean, but the state of me has Dad texting Mum ahead with "What price a Deefer sized bowl of warm soapy and some dog towels?". They are there on the terrace table as we round the corner. We are now all crashed out on various bits of furniture, recovering

Deefski

Tosca and Merlin

Wet underfoot but clear blue skies and the sun is shining. A day for magnificent dogs in the Rec. First up beautifully glossy jet-black 7 year old lab cross with small white flash at his chest, Merlin. He's enough to convert the staid, slow, ambling, old lady, Megan into a frisking, bouncing, eyelash flashing young gal again, all pup vitality and coy play. Tart!

Then magnificent brown and white Spinone, Tosca. What a handsome chap! His brown bits were chocolate coloured, shot through with wisps of harder, longer, white hairs, and he had that lovely grufty beard thing going on, that Spinones do. We got talking, inevitably, and mentionned the only other Spinone regular we know, the famous Archie, now sadly passed away. But, Archie, we all remember you around town.

Plenty of other dogs about too, a wheaten terrier, GSDs, a big ol' shaggy lurcher, a couple of Jack Russells. Everyone up and about and determined to enjoy a sunny weekend.

Have a good one
Deefer

Bugsy and Billy

Out in the dark again we have a great run around with our Bichon Frisee friends Billy and (to a lesser extent) Bugsy. Billy is 1 year old and full of beans, and loves to chase around with me, while Bugs is 7 and prefers to stand looking up at his Dad, shouting with impatience to get moving again. Dad is in the Autumn of his years and starting to slow up, so he likes to sit on the Rec benches, not "getting moving again", so it can be a noisy group to meet up with!

Also, their Dad is frightened to let them off the lead, using instead very long versions of those extending leads, so Billy can swoop in great circles with other dogs, but keeps winding the lead-string round rubbish bins, prams, passers by and our own Dad's legs if he stands too close. Makes for some entertaining "Dad-dancing" as he hops over the string when it scythes across the scenery. Billy's Dad holds the handle sufficinetly high up that we dogs rarely get entangled.

Billy's Dad was, in his past, an ecologist; specifically a beetle-expert (Coleopterist). There's little he doesn't know about beetles in Kent, and in his past has been called on as expert witness in forensic evidence giving, or to make statements about the ecological importance of parcels of land for the EEC.

This got us thinking, about the interesting stories you could tell about the "ordinary" people we meet out walking. "Mick the Window Cleaner", for example, who owns westie Misha, and used to have Jack till recently (sadly passed away). He has worked a lot in Stockton on Tees and was a "wood technologist" researching new uses for wood and wood products. At one stage he was involved in inventing a metal-cored, wood skinned household door which became very popular as a blast-proof door in Belfast during the "Troubles"

Just goes to show....
Deefer