Happy Easter

A couple of vaguely barge-related pics just to keep your appetities whetted. The planky tarry one is SB Cambria from low down on the starb'd bow, somewhere near where the waterline will be when she is (re) launched at the end of this year.

The brushes are just brooms well lathered up with the sail dressing concoction, and the van is
just a good way to advertise the SB Greta

For Mum it's a few days off allegedly for Easter but she is nose to the grind stone trying to complete yet another Open Univ. essay which has run close to the deadline, Dad is having a comparitively easy time and enjoying a rare long Easter break. He took us down to the Hollow Shore where 2CV Llew has just taken ownership of a nice little 20 foot sailing cruiser.

The previous owner of this boat bought her and tried her out once but maybe frightened himself and promptly gave up, and she has been moored up for 2 years un-used. Her cabins is a bit damp from being closed up to condensation all that time, and her decks, sheets and sides are well greened up with algae. Today's job (in between sitting on Llew's "sundeck" (some old plywood boards by his caravan) and drinking coffee) was to give the girl a good scrubbing with soapy water, and to open all the hatches to let her dry out thoroughly.

She is called "Kestrel". 20 feet long, she is described as "very beamy" by those in the know - she must be about 7-8 feet wide at the widest point. She has a fibre-glass hull and aluminium mast and boom. All the sails and gear are intact and in working order (though we guess could use unfurling and airing). Dad is promised some sailing outings in return for his deck-scrubbing. We do not know if we are invited.

Haggis has been out with Megan on the SB Greta, and both of them as young dogs, spent some time on a river cruiser owner by one of Dad's chums (from which viewpoint they shouted at sheep on the river bank apparently). Plus we have all been narrowboating, of course, so we're all clued up on nautical affairs.

Have a great Easter.

Deefski

Go Theo !

Easter is upon us, which means the end of Lent and therefore Mum and Dad's successful attempt to eschew the demon alcohol for 6-7 weeks (since Pancake Day) is all over and tonight's soul food menu of choice was fish and chips and fizz and red wine.

We are pleased to be able to report that Theo, hubby of Steak-Lady is coming back out of hospital (allegedly his first ever stay in such a place in 82 years!) with nothing more serious than a chest infection. A mad keen fan of the medical drama "House", he was allegedly intrigued and fascinated by all the goings on, especially when his condition did not immediately succumb to easy diagnosis, and he expected Hugh Lawrie to come round the corner at any minute with his entourage and say "Nooooo... it's never Lupus!" We also hear that he was quite taken with a certain lady doctor, and didn't want to come home. Atta boy Theo!

Deefski

More Signs of Spring

Now that the local Daffodil Show is well and truly over, the daffs all decide it's now OK to flower. These rather nice collection of Tete-a-Tete are in one of the big pots which were originally a birthday present from Mum to Dad. They are too big for Mum to lift but she used her womenly wiles and the 2CV (and a handy bloke with strong arms) to bring them home from the garden centre when Dad was out of the way.

Since then they have contained a variety of ill-fated plants, a Japanese maple which died, and a philadelphus which fared little better. Now they are full of daffs while they decide what to do with them. The other pics (if we can get them to show - this website seems tyo be having a hissy-fit and will not show them, so we have no idea whther they uploaded successfully or not.

Dad has survived another weekend on call and we've had plenty of good walks. Mr H, says Dad, is definitely starting to slow down now, the old fella, and an hour and a half of fairly gentle is enough for him. I am, of course, fit as a flea at 3 years old, so there is talk of maybe replacing Meggie with a fit, young third dog to give me a run for my money and let Haggis have a gentle retirement, like they did for Meggie. Maybe not a pup. Maybe not even (gasp) a Westie.

We'll see. Now we want to try publishing this and see what the website makes of it.

Deefski

Good Weekend

We'll call that a good weekend, then. It's been a long time coming but Spring seems to be finally here, Daffs and Irises are starting to do their stuff, all be it rather late for the local Hort Soc's Spring Show. Never mind, on that one - there are always plenty of ladies willing to enter the flower arranging classes or cook the cakes for the baking classes (and Jackie next door happy to pass "us" a cake (and, thankfully a roasted lamb bone or two) which she has over.

Dad gets a chance to catch up on the SB Cambria, and you can see from these pics that not only is the decking progressing well but also in the below decks pic of the back end, you can see the side planking slowly climbing up the sides. Look either side of the red-painted vertical pole (which is a deck support pillar under the little rear (="mizzen") mast. The light shining in between the frames there is now only getting in for the top 3-4 feet.

The on-deck pic is taken from the starboard bow, basically standing just to the right of the stem-post, looking aft.

And there's a new "Smudge" in the house. We already know one, companion of Westie "Barney", a mainly white, long bodied JR cross with wirey hair and floppy ears that glow ever brighter red as he heats up chasing the tennis balls that are his number 1 passion. Well, tiny pup Smudge is aslo a white wispy haired JR with brown smudges, but he's only 12 weeks old and still all floppy and soft in his movements, and given to falling over his feet when tapped by a westie's nose. His companion is a red Staffie of whom we cannot recall the name, though we were told.

Deefski

1630 Club

Now that all the dog walkers are squoze into the gap between end-of-work and it-gets-dark, our 16:30 pm unofficial dog club has started to re-form. Anyone who's anyone goes, and we all look out for each other. First we are spotted from afar by eagle-eyed Luca the Lurcher, who steams across the Rec towards us, and we straight way commence our game of Luca nicks my dirty, saliva soaked tennis ball, and I nick his bright pink sponge-ball.

Together we wander across the Rec diagonally, soon spotting solid Jack Russell Patch out with his Mum. We are soon joined by black collie cross Ben, a shaggy brown lab called Archie and old chum who we've not seen for what seems like a year, slim, nippy JR bitch Bindy. Finally tonight we come across a lady Dad doesn't quite recognise, out with a choc-brown pointer and a tiny JR. The lady turns out to be Daughter-in-Law of the Angel B - she recognises Dad and introduces herself.

Nice pack - good socialising and plenty of running around. That's what I call a dog walk!

Deefski

St Trinians

Here's Haggis getting uncomfortably close to the newly dressed sails of Sailing Barge Repertor. These guys dress the sails each year in a noxious mixture of (in this case) red and yellow ochre, melted parrafin wax, lanolin, vegetable oil, and white spirit. The mixes are usually secret to the sail maker, and can also include horse urine which is, we are told, sterile and a natural bleach. This set are about to get dog urine, which probably works just as well.

And so, another nice long weekend draws to a close and Dad is in deep shock that he'll actually have to work a 5-day week. It's not on, he says! The humans console themselves with a showing of the new St Trinians film (well, not that new now, but you know what I mean). Gotta love a School Song that includes the lines "We are the Best, so Screw the Rest", and proclaims the School as "Defenders of Anarchy". Dad says his school song had "What's the tie that makes you one? Brothers all, The Name? ..... Sons of William Parker!" which does not convey quite the same ethos.

Deefer.

Are you down there, Henry?

If they bury you in this town,

be sure they dig you deep.

Cos the rabbits and the dogs will try

to interupt your sleep.

We're often in the graveyard

and we don't hang around

There's bunnies running everywhere

that should be underground.

We chase them fast as we both can

me and Haggis,my big bruvver

but under some ol' marble slab's

where they will find safe cover.

That's where the chase will have to end

we stand frustrated there

Head nose and ears are in the hole

and tails in the air

Our favourite grave is Henry Miles

Died 1923

There's two holes under that one

One for Haggis, one for me.

So Henry, sir, you lived so old,

now sleeping like a log,

unless you wake and wonder why

you're yelled at by a dog

Sleep on, old timer, pay no mind,

protect your rabbit's nest

Ignore the westies hunting 6 foot

up from your last rest.

Deefski-the-Bard