Ghosties and Ghoulies

More of our journey here tomorrow, but for now I need to tell you that all Silverwood has gone loopy. The house is decorated up to look like a haunted house, the bay window re-covered with great big witches cats, the front lawn given over to pretend grave stones and bat-fairy lights, skeletons covered in black raggedy drapes everywhere, and a CD player playing a loop of witchy laughter, screams, thunder and ghostie moans and howls.

Every child for miles around is dressed in elabourate costumes and face paint - Em-J is a zombie-doctor with a superb half-decomposed-abdomen, ribs and guts hanging out, knee joint exposed, green and black face paint with realistic scars oozing blood (well vaseline and red colouring), medical "scrubs" and white coat covered in blood, rubber gloves smeared with gore.

J-M is a white lady vampire - white tights and top, white shoes, gloves, white face paint, long flowing white hair, black lipstick and realistic dribbles of blood from either side of the mouth. M (3) is a skeleton pirate with similarly elabourate rib cage and "Jack Sparrow" tunic and leggings, one a boot-foot, the other a stump. Baby R (1 on Monday) is a superb pumpkin.

They are, even as I write, touring round the estate(s) Trick-or-Treat-ing armed with big loot-sacks which they will have no trouble filling. Like many Mums and Dads in Ireland, the Silverwoods have bought crates of kids-sweeties (many of them hallowe'en specials like chocolate eye-balls and "witches fingers" jellies, worms and maggots). They will return home several times to unload before going out again. As they are out we stay back here to receive similar numbers of Trick or Treaters inbound.

Meanwhile there are fireworks going bang and general chaos, so we (dogs) are racing about adding to the noise and battling to get out into the street to join in. Not a big disaster, as it's a cul-de-sac and every driver in Ireland is expecting small children to be loose tonight. The kids are too excited to worry about closing doors, so the grown ups are always shouting "Door!" and "Dogs".

Enough again for now. I'll leave you with one amusing story. 4 tiny children (4 maybe) accompanied by Mum but none the less a bit trepidatious about approaching the front door through the "grave yard" and past the skeletons and screaming CD player (Owwwooooooo!). They finally make it and I'm at the kitchen door. I look up and am shocked to see 4 skeletons in the front door way - definitely in need of "telling!!!". I charge up the hall giving it "Raff! Raff" RAFF!!! RAFF!!!", stopping just feet away from the threshold. The kids scatter in alarm, thinking the hound of the baskervilles is at their heels. Ha! Come here trying to scare MY humans!

Deefski the brave
(OK - Deefski the sitting on Daddy's lap shivering at the fireworks)

Irish Hallowe'en

kBy the wonders of technology and a borrowed laptop, a first ever report from "the foreign". We are en famille, at the Silverwood's place roughly in the middle of Ireland, and we're here to see the mad Hallowe'en celebrations tonight. The Irish "do" Hallowe'en in a more lock-stock-and-barrel way than anything we get in England, and they wrap in as well, any desire for fireworks that the English get out of their systems around Guy Fawkes Night

So here we are, after an adventurous journey up on Tuesday night, when it snowed. Dad had seen some stuff about "wintry showers" on one of the screens at work, and we'd left earlier than normal, and a good thing too. Real snow started on the M25, just north of Dartford Bridge, in the dark, and the traffic was soon reduced to 35 mph or so.

Great big flakes were coming down, and swooshing towards the windscreen like one of those "star-field" screen savers. It was so thick that it even laid on the motorway surface, and we couldn't see the cats eyes or the white lines. Dad latched onto the tail lights of a 4x4 and hoped. Some unlucky guy in the fast lane went too far to the right, put a wheel into the gravel trap on the central reservation, slithered to a stop, and had to get his passengers out pushing through the snow to get back onto the tarmac.

We survived an hour of that before the next driver swap on the M1. Here, Mum took over, the snow stopped, and we were soon doing more Mum-like speeds northward. The normal long distance rhythm for us is 2 hour stints of driving followed by a comfort stop for dogs - we have explored the grass and trees in more motorway services than it's probably healthy to know!

We made our ferry in Holyhead and there, as ever, we dogs get abandoned in the car on the car deck while the humans sneak off upstairs, on this occasion having booked a cabin to sleep in. It all goes quiet and boring and we get some shut eye, round to 06:00 and the ferry docks in Dublin (North Wall), and Mum and Dad come back to the car to rescue us.

We drive through the dark to Portmarnock's "Country Club" where we're taken onto the sand dunes and beach for another walk as the first glimmer of sunrise starts to lighten the sky. It's beautiful here, especially looking back towards Ireland's Eye (small island) and Howth Head, all lit up with street lights. The dunes are alive with rabbits.

Refreshed and comfortable again we head for the Steak Lady's house to catch up with our old chums, Yorkies Cracker and Rosie (not to mention try to steal all their chews and bones. Nobody had warned them we were coming so they'd not hidden them very well). The humans have a good fried breakfast (Dad just lurves the Steak Lady's potato cakes).

There's loads more to tell, but that's enough for now. Sam the Spaniel, George the Seal (I kid you not) - more soon

Deefer, Travellin' Babe

Sunset

Sunset may officially be at 17:43, since the coming of GMT

http://www.sunrisesunset.com/

But really the sun has gone off the Rec where we walk by about 5. We just about get some running about in while the sun is still coming in over the trees on "our" (Eastern) side, but it's left the grass by the time we're walking home. We've had a good old race about with fellow allotment-holder, Chris's black greyhound/lurcher Kinsey (we think - but it might have been Ginsey). Named after a composer anyway, Chris being a "muso", so maybe this is him.....

http://www.classicsonline.com/catalogue/product.aspx?pid=656927

We will check and get back to you. Kinsey has a yellow and black foam rubber ball which I steal and then won't give back. Kinsey is a slobbery dog, so the ball is so well glooped up with saliva, that when it rolls across the grass, it's wake is a stringy vapour trail of ick, stretching off the grass like mozzarella cheese, and clearly visible against the slanting sunlight. Bet you wish you'd not read that! Gross.

We also get a lovely chase about with small black lab pup, Sam, who is rather boisterous (boisturous?) and won't take no for an answer. I put up with it for a good while, but eventually I have to fall back on "drama queen" squeaks and hiding behind Dad's legs.

Sorry about the gloop story.
Deefer

Megan Mingeth

There we are, all getting ready for the party last night and, yes, Meggie did get her finger nails painted tarty-red (looks disconcertingly like Dad has gone too far up the quicks when clipping her nails!) when Diamond makes an off hand comment about the fact that megan is a bit niffy. Whammo! It is decreed that we should all be bathed. Cheers Diamond!

So today, an hour later than normal due to the change to GMT, we get a nice long walk all round the boat yard in the drizzle. We note that there's a new barge in town, the Ethel Ada (London). Unusual name, we thought - we will have to look that one up in the books - but on the web for all that....

http://nationalhistoricships.org.uk/index.cfm/event/getVessel/vref/200

She's fully rigged but now in one of our floating dry-dock lighters, presumably for her Ministry inspections.

We return from our walk all sopping wet from the rain, so Dad takes the opportunity to put us all through the shower. We ming no more, smelling instead, fragrantly of coconut. Damp dog and coconut, maybe, but not too bad for all that. We are now stretched out across various furniture and slices of floor, steaming gently dry.

Deefski

The Rut

It's that time of year again when the fallow deer are up to their mischief in Challock Forest, the "Rut". Dad is up early to take a trio of Lady photographers (Big Canon EOS's and/or Nikons - huge 400mm lenses, enough to make Dad feel quite out-done) into Challock Forest to try their luck at deer photography.

It's the perfect morning for it. It's windless and the sky is clear. There's frost on the grass and Dad has to scrape ice off the windscreen. Dad and his women meet at 06:30 while it's still pitch-dark, and admire the stars while everyone turns up. They walk in the dusk, from the Jacket's Field entrance, down to the "sledged dog bend" before turning in to the forest proper. This gives everyone the chance to hear the grunts and bellows of the boys.

As the sun comes up they are walking in through the birch, towards the main rutting stand, and it goes like a dream. The sun beams in, the deer do their stuff and everyone is awe-struck by the event and the atmosphere. They all get good views and sights and sounds, but that perfect combination of the right light, a photograph-able deer, and no trees in the way eludes the cameras.

No bad thing in our opinion. Dad has been going there for years and has yet to capture the perfect Challock Forest fallow deer shot. It's one of the things that keeps him coming back year after year to try.

With dad back and breakfast taken, we are all off for our walk round Rec and Cemetery, where we link up with Sis' Ellie and walk round together. I have a good old sniff at the base of the tree where I KILLED MY SQUIRREL (ooh - sorry - did I say that a bit loud?)

Dad disappears up to the allotment, then we all get an "old git's lie down" in the afternoon. Party tonight - Mum's got a gang of work mates coming round to eat, drink and watch Sex and the City. Diamond is here, and there's plenty of meat. What can go wrong?

Deefski

Megan

Quite a nice pic, we thought, of Meggie bimbling through the same Autumn leaves you had me in last night. No such luck tonight though - Mum and Dad arrive home from work both late and both frazzled so that, so far anyway, we've not had a walk tonight.

It's shaping up to be a mad weekend, too, with the humans here having a "Sex and the City" party Saturday night (so I suspect Megan will want her toenails painted tarty-red again, like she did on the last episode night. Plus Dad has promised to take a few more people out into Challock forest to see the deer in rut again (eh heh - three women in the forest and none of them are Mum - how racey is that?).

And then there's a lunch do for Diamond's friend Mary. I suspect we'll be fitted in around all that lot somewhere, and a camera and some more autumn leaves may be involved if the sun shines.

It's the weekend!

Deefer

Autumn Leaves

Back to the Rec for some more chasing about in the autumn leaves, and we meet back up with Louis (...and I think to myself....what a wonderful world....etc) the Cav from yesterday. He is playing with a ball, and naturally I have to try to nick it

This turns into quite a good game, and we have the camera to record this. With Dad standing to one side while Louis's owners chuck the ball, Dad can get some good shots of us at speed.

Young and fit, or what?

Deefer (and Louis)