Mum finishes Work

Some more pictures in the Photo-fest vein just to catch you up on UK life (for a limited period only). First up a 2nd nice picture of Dad's beautiful trailer. You can see more clearly in this one that the wheels are 2CV wheels so that the spares on the car and trailer are interchangeable. The cover for the trailer is actually quite a posh one made by a proper sail-maker, all professionally stitched and with proper eyes. They are normally some kind of cheap sheeting hot-seam welded together. This was done by 2CV Llew calling in a favour from the sail maker he knows and uses for boat stuff who is, apparently, a bit of a one for the drinking. You have to try to make sure he gets any jobs done for you before lunchtime because after lunch he's not a lot of use to anybody!

Next up is a pic of that "Faversham" stove cookin' up a storm with the peat briquettes.

The other two pics are of the ever more shaggy and workshop-dirty year-old Westie pup Boris-the-barking-bastard. Poor ol' Boris. He got that name and reputation as he was going through a phase. It got so bad that 2CV Llew was reduced to buying one of those electronic collars which fizz compressed air when triggered by barking, theoretically distracting the dog so he stops barking. Dad and Llew think that I may have a hand in grassing them up and telling Bozza he was about to get fitted with this thing because for no other reason which is apparent, he suddenly stopped the incessant barking and didn't need the collar. He did actually have another barking session later and was very briefly fitted with the thing but stopped barking immediately so that now all Llew has to do is mention the collar or get 'that tone' in his voice and Boris is now so angelic you'd think there'd not been a problem! I don't think the collar has ever actually triggered the compressed air. It seemed to be enough that Llew was grabbing him and moving to fit it.

Mum finishes work. She's done 10+ years at her 'firm' and has made good friends. She is well thought of and (we're not just saying this) very popular so that her leaving is always going to be accompanied by much celebration and a good whip round. She gets showered with gifts and in particular one of those new electronic 'Kindle' books, but also chocs, booze, a nice Zippo lighter, scented candles and so on. Everybody signs a big card with nice comments about how brilliant she has been to work with, best wishes for Ireland, how they'll miss her etc. Mum arranges for a breakfast delivery of croissants and pain-au-chocolates. There's a formal 'party' at lunchtime where the CEO does a nice speech and they've decorated the office with Irish flags and have even found a tape of the Dublinners (some Brits do tend to reach for the old familiar clichés and stereotypes in these circumstances!). They all adjourn to the Pub after work where Mum "holds court" to a good gang of them including, again the CEO and some of the IT crowd with whom she's had loads to do across the years, being the main website and systems persons in the firm.

Dad and Diamond are assigned the task of raking her out of the pub while still thoroughly compos mentis and they all head for home via a good kebab shop, a wine shop and fridge to construct a good salad. The drinking goes on very gently into the evening before Mum, finally able to relax and wind down, unemployed, retires for a good night's sleep.

Well done Mum! You survived!

Deefs

Bye Bye Bozza

Boris gets collected tonight by 2CV Llew, the end of another short but enjoyable holiday. He is even reasonably tidy and brushed out after getting half the garden wrapped around his face when we were blitzing yesterday. Mum and Dad generated a builders bulk-bag plus of weeds and rubbish in a major tidy up and Boris another dustbin liner's worth around his mouth and entangled in his fur.

He is also a bit fussy with regard to having his muzzle and lips brushed out, so that Dad sometimes has to 'alpha-roll' him just to remind him that he is a dog. He objects, of course, being a feisty pup, but in the end, there's not a lot a dog can do when strong hands have you by all four feet and the mouth and nose, and you are upside down. Best just to relax, let the entaglements be gently removed and then enjoy the sweetie (and the fact that you are, in fact, not injured, after all) as reward.

It's been good fun having him again, and we have played and chased about lots, even laying on a display of round-garden 3-dog chase at a BBQ of some barge friends yesterday. Nice big, long, clear lawn and a flat patio, but for some reason all the humans went "Whoa! Pick up your drinks!" and raised their glasses out of harm's way as we tore through like a white furry whirl wind.

Till next time, then Bozza!

Deefs

Crisis in the Creek

I expect you heard it, didn't you? Where ever you are reading this from, if you heard a certain amount of 'shouting' around 3pm coming from the Faversham direction you'll know that it all kicked off a bit between (mainly) our 2 doggie visitors, Rags (no real surprise there) and little butter-wouldn't-melt, 9 month old Boris, who's here for safe keeping because 2CV Llew is sitting his girl friend's big springer Harvey. Boris and Harvey fight and Harvey doesn't take any prisoners, so Llew passed Boris to us for safe-keeping (!).

It was Mum's Birthday (21 again - how do they do that?) so Dad is cooking a special meal of pork chops done in a cider and cream sauce. Diamond and John are coming and they bring Rags. You'll know that I don't love Rags like a generous hostess should and we have our moments but we're sort of OK by now and the humans can eat their food without too much drama and distraction. Rags has also stopped trying to mount the H, which never went down that well. I'm happy to say that neither of us were the cause of the kick off this time.

Step forward Boris who took violent and rapid exception to Rags's mounting thing and it all got a bit shouty a couple of times. Admittedly me and H did tend to do that 'encouraging' thing that kids do in the playground when there's a rumble, but we were generally a few paces back and goading Boris and Rags on to get the teeth stuck in. Well, there were a couple of episodes of this which came and went but then it really kicked off. We think Rags tried it, Boris skittered on the laminate floor and fell upside down, with Rags leaning over him. Rags was not biting him or grabbing him in any way we could see but Boris just saw red and there were dogs suddenly everywhere, humans shouting and trying to separate them, an umbrella got involved and poor Diamond got a snap on the hand. Dad leaned in and lifted Boris out by his collar, Diamond grabbed Rags. Haggis and I "melted into the crouds" as they say in reports of Taliban fights.

The rest of the meal was spent with Boris on about 3inches of lead at one end of the room, Rags on 3 inches at the other, the humans eating a lovely meal between, only occasionally disturbed by 'comment' from either end, and the H and myself (for once, happily, not the main protagonists) asleep around the human feet.

It's all go. 'We' will do this again but probably not with both Rags and Boris invited. One or the other is OK but it's definitely a bit powder-keg with the pair.

Sorry if we upset your pleasant Saturday sfternoon.

Deefs

Beric and Boris

Dad can't resist another opportunity to go paint Cambria. She's pretty much done and is, and should now be, spending her life earning money, doing charters and educational stuff, which means away from Faversham, generally. So the fun project, which has kept Dad off the streets for the last three years is pretty much coming to an end. Today there were only him and the 'Boss of Volunteers' Basil down there, Basil doing a bit of varnishing, Dad painting pale yellow onto recently fitted wooden cleats and the main 'horse'. Dad also gets involved in the job of hoisting the masts of Sailing Barge Beric back up. The gear was lowered yesterday to allow the sails to be taken off and sent away for repair, and had to be raised again today to get the masts back out of the way of the imminent deck repairs.

Part way through the morning, 2CV Llew turns up at the barge to leave 9-month-old Boris with us. We are babysitting him again while Llew and a chum sail the chum's 40 foot yacht over to Boulougne and back. It might be just one night but, as is the way of these things, it is at mercy of weather and tide and , says Llew, I may or may not be back Monday night.

Although Llew is, in theory, in a hurry to go take the maybe-ex-but-we're-not-sure girlfriend to a charity garden party, Dad tempts him down below decks with the fully equipped galley and offer of a cup of tea.

Dad is then amused by Llew and Basil, who are both fans of keeping boats 'traditional' chuntering about 'yottie' barges with fancy skylights, modern domestic interior lighting, sophisticated electrics and possibly even (soon) radar! (Gasp!) Llew is only teasing and Basil is laughing as he explains patiently that whilst in Denmark and Norway the governments supports old barges kept as museum pieces, here the barge has to pay its way. That means offering the possible paying charter guests a certain level of home comfort, i.e. 'yottie luxury', hot showers, warm dry bunks with duvets and pillows, good cooking facilities and so on.

Ah well, the silver lining on the Boris-shaped-invasion cloud is that Boris doesn't do sleeping alone downstairs and creates such a fuss it's easier to let all the dogs off the sleep-in-the-kitchen rule, so as long as I can resist the temptation to pee on (Mum in the) bed we should be OK tonight.

Deefer

You're On CCTV

This is Cambria's container down at the Standard Quay. You can't get the Graffiti artists now, can you?

Boris seems to have survived his week with us and is reported to be coping OK without our "help". Needless to say we were reverted back to sleeping downstairs so that Mum and Dad could get some peace at last, and we didn't really mind as we were both tired out too, trying to keep up with the little beggar.

This is Mid Summer's Day, so the last day of the much contested tenancy down at the Quay which has seen most of the shipwrights and marine workers evicted from their workshops, causing much chuntering in the town (but not on the Town Council!). Cambria has managed to remain there, along with our Master Shipwright, but even we are due to sail away on July 3rd, the barge off to become a proper grown-up business chartering and stuff. This will be the end of a lovely project which Dad has thoroughly enjoyed being part of since 2007. It's sad, but also kinda timely what with Project Erroll

Deefs

Bye Bye Boris

After driving 400 miles across France to get home very tired last night, 2CV Llew calls to say he will collect Boris tonight rather than last night. Boris gets another night here and we get another night of being allowed sleep upstairs. Today, though. Llew is back in business and texts Dad to say he'll be here at about 4pm after a visit to our local boating chandlers. He's driving his newly finished 2CV pick-up, which looks like a 2CV front half with a wooden farm-cart bolted on behind.

In an amusing role reversal Dad has to go rescue Llew's 2CV from the chandlers because he has a flat battery. Normally it's Llew rescuing Dad.

We have never seen such an enthusiastic welcome as Boris catching sight of his Dad (Llew) - all that bouncing around on rear feet and tail wagging. Dad was left saying "Ahem... I came home too!". Having left the 2CV running in the street because of the dodgy battery, Llew didn't hang around. He grabbed the dog and dropped off a thank-you bottle of Calva, chatted a short while about how Boris had got on and then headed off, at which point Boris had the good grace to look round and say "Oh... is Deef's Dad not coming too?" as if he might miss his new 'bestest mate after all.

It seems very quiet around here without him nand I expect we'll be confined to Kitchen sleeping once more but it's at least a chance to relax. It's been nice having you to stay, Boris. Look after yourself. We'll miss you.

Deefs

Curly ends

Tonight the boot is on the other foot and it's me that's 'in the poo'. Dad is glued at present to the TV series "Spring Watch" and that means we are too, as we get a chance to curl up on the sofa 'en famille'. Last night we learned that fox poo can be identified by the fact that it has long tapered curly ends.

Tonight I learned that if you roll in it at the roadside you end up being double-hit shampoo'd in the shower before supper while Boris looks on all smug, amused and superior. No matter, we all got a chunk of the roast lamb bone, Dad hack-sawing the long shank bit in half to make 3 bits for three dogs.

Sorry about the photo, if it is showing as on its side. I have tried over and over to flip it round and it looks OK on the computer but then displays on here at 90 degrees. I will come in again and try to edit it tomorrow unless it sorts itslef out.

Deefs

Good Game, Good Game

Deefer invents new Sport. stop. Wait till you're in the Rec and Dad has Boris on a good strong lead, approx 5m long, then repeatedly run away from Dad in a straight line. The dog who can break Boris's neck in the fewest tries wins. Silver if you only pull Dad's arm out of its socket, and Bronze, I'm afraid, if Dad susses out your little game and bungee's Boris in before he hits full speed and full stretch of the lead.

LOL

Deefs

Duffing up the Boris Boy

Yup, Boris has fitted in quite nicely and is now available mornings and evenings for some serious duffing up by both me and Haggis. These pictures show us largely up the right way and Boris largely on his back, and that's how it should be, don't you agree.

Dad has to disappear down to Cambria to do his painterly duties and they are all delighted to find that SB Beric has snuck in on the evening tide and is now moored alongside. She is in to have some repairs done to her decks and this is seen as a SIGNIFICANT development given all the gloomy talk of the landlord evicting all the shipwrights from their workshops and preventing any repairs going on after Mid Summer's Day which is now only 9 days off. Beric's appearance suggests that this may not be the end of the story.

This afternoon's walk has us down through the allotments and out across the feilds and Dad, feeling a bit brave now that we all have name collars with the new, post-Erroll phone number on, lets Boris off the lead for a while. Boris stays around, but its me who vanishes into the waist-high oil seed rape and fails to re-appear for several minutes causing him palpitations. Got to keep the old bu***r on his toes.

Good luck

Deefs

The Boy Settles In

That Boy, Boris, is settling in well. He seems to have adopted me as something to shadow - he follows me everywhere. He turns out to be quite a good playmate, too, all be it, I have to gruff at him at the start of every game to make sure he knows its MY RULES we play to, and I reserve the right to change them at short notice at any time I like.

And in a complete turn-up last night Boris gets one back over on the humans and we are back upstairs to sleep. On his first night, Boris was a bit fed up to be left downstairs but his objections took the form of whimpers and crying which was quite quiet and would not have filtered through to the neighbours (although Jim next door joked with Dad, that he's heard Boris at 02:00). Well, last night Boris brought out the big guns, unleashing a fusilade of peircing, loud and non-stop yapping which half the street must have heard.

Mum and Dad brazened it out for 30 minutes thinking he'd give up, but when he showed no sign of relenting, Mum called on Dad to nip down and open the door. Boris and I sprinted up the stairs (although Haggis stayed put) and into the bed. Dad was not best pleased and threatened me with dire consequences if I even considered reverting to my old habits of pee-ing in the bed, but basically everyone went immediately quiet and we all got a good night's sleep. I suspect that this 'solution' may remain in place till Boris goes back home, but for now we're enjoying a return to communal sleeping.

Dad was off today to watch the start of the Medway Thames Sailing Barge Match as seen from Gillingham Pier, and hence these two pictures taken with the 400mm 'pap' lens. There are lots more where that came from, but we won't bore you with those.

Deefs

Boris for Ten Days

As this blog cruises in towards its 1000th posting it has recently passed the joint milestones of 10,000 hits and 14,000 views. Go us - we're never going to be a best seller but it's a quietly satifying way to keep you in touch with our comings and goings and I know its enjoyed regularly by family and freinds, so if you keep reading it, I'll keep a-writing it.

We have a house-guest for the next 10 days or so, young Boris, 7 month old westie of 2CV Llew who is off to the foreign. Not a secretive doggie, our Boris - makes his presence felt in no uncertain manner. He may have had 'abandonment issues' in his difficult life pre-Llew, but he's now very clingy and gets very anxious if Llew leaves him.

Llew has been trying to wean him off 100% contact by leaving him behind in the house for short bursts of an hour or two (and anyone who has done this will know the guilty forebodings that come with shutting the door and trying to ignore the crying, whimpering and yipping as it fades out of earshot, plus the strength you need not to just nip back and check on the dog). You may have also done the getting-through-the-first-night thing when you are trying to break the 'must-sleep-together' bond as we did with Deefs not long ago

So we had a bit of yipping as Llew drove away with the other dog, Rosie (she's 'kennelled' at another friend's for the week) but Boris soon settled to the fact that he still had Haggis and I and Mum and Dad. Then we had another quick upset as Dad went to bed before Mum and then it really kicked off with a couple of hours of yipping, crying, weeoing-and-wailing, scratching, restlessness and chewing of bath sponges and tissues. However, Mum and Dad did not flinch, and everyone managed to get at least some sleep through the night. Boris was very very pleased to see Dad at breakfast time, then Dad went off to work for a half day, so he thinks Mum may have had some more boldness, early hours.

Dog walking with Boris is also an interesting experience as he seems to have no idea of direction. Admittedly he does not know the area, but even so, he shows an alarming tendency to suddenly turn 90 degrees off the pavement onto the busy road, or up someone's drive. He is also a good one for coming back by a different route, thus entangling the lead round bits of gate, fence or street-furniture. He is also a one for 'Maypole dancing', attempting to entangle the lead round a) Dad and b) all the other leads.

We'll survive though, Boris - you'll not defeat us!

Deefs

Every dog we ever had.....

Every dog we ever had visit this garden has gone in the pond at least once, Every visiting dog, every owned dog, every pup we ever bred. At this stage we are used to it, so when we have a dog visiting we all sit in the gravel garden by the pond, armed with dog towels and await the inevitable. The new dog(s) charge around exploring, maybe playing with resident dogs and eventually the play gets that bit too distracting or the draw of this new, unfamiliar 'thang' is too strong and there's a plop or a splash.

Dogs can probably get out again easy enough as there are beaches and edge planting, but Mum or Dad generally lean over, grab the wet collar and haul the unfortunate sodden beast out onto the gravel for a run around, shake and towel off. Then it's just a question of allowing drying nature to take its course before the dog is brushed down, good as new, all be it minging of pond. Better this system than we sit somewhere else and we are not immediately aware that the splash has happened and the dog flounders around getting scared or, God forbid, drowned, which would rather dampen the party spirits.

So here is a picture of Boris, who visited again tonight with 2CV Llew, freshly dunked while Rosie (an experienced dipper) sleeps contentedly in Llew's arms. He'll do. He can come and stay with us in June. We'll cope!

Deefs

Meeting Boris

Tonight we have come away from all mention of Ladies of Negotiable Affectiuon whether hailing from the west coast of Ireland or not, and we are introducing a nice young man, not yet 6 months old, to whom I was introduced today to make sure we get on.

Step forward Boris, new dog of 2CV Llew, now added to the household along with 19 year old beer-drinking, tea-drinking Jack Russell, Rosie. Dad's been down at the Cambria today but afterwards takes Haggis and I over to Llew's place in Herne Bay and shoves us in the back gate. He then lets us get on with getting to know the pup while he helps Llew build a dexion-framed log-store similar to the elabourate log 'house' Mum and he have seen in La Chapelle d'Armentieres. We get on like a house on fire. I am soon racing around with Boris playing while the H plays it cool. preferring to wander about sniffing stuff and not joining in with the antics of da Yoot.

This is good news, as we are hosting Boris for a week in June while Llew goes abroad, so we will be on our best behaviour and I will have to be the hostess with the mostest. It's a whole week, so the theory is that if I'm gonna kill him, then that's a good chance to do it!

Deefs

Boris

There is a new westie on the block, 7 month old Boris, latest acquisition of 2CV Llew. Originally named Bernie, this dog comes from Llew's girlfriend's brother's ex wife or some such complicated provenance, and is a pedigree posh dog (certainly more pedigree than me anyway! Dad says he's a nice looking pup - broad skull, good "stop" (eyebrow ridge), straight back, high set tail and all wrapped in that disreputable scruffy hair and topped off with the big tall ears of any "adolescent" stage westie).

He has not been all that well treated and arrived rather thin and with some signs of itchiness and discomfort that can point to the feared 'skin issues' that some say westies are prone to. (Mum and Dad think that those issues are mainly nurture rather than nature but let's not go there). Anyway Llew is not one to panic so the dog was closely examined, a flea was found, the dog was bathed in insecticidal shampoo and proved to be crawling with the little visitors. That's a relief. Fleas we can deal with, say the humans, - all our lot swear by Frontline and none of us lot have a problem with fleas.

A good name, "Boris" we think - white haired gentleman, toff, Mayors of major UK cities notwithstanding. He will have a great life, too. Llew is nothing if not chilled out and the dogs go everywhere with him, so their lives will be pretty much free from anxiety. He will hopefully turn into a chilled out, well balanced dude. I have heard that he may meet us and come and stay a week with us soon, so I'll get some pictures then.

Meanwhile Project Erroll takes a great leap forward. The house is officially on the market and we straightway have three people/families who want to view lined up. The awesome prospect of having to pack up and move sooner rather than later crosses our minds - maybe we'll end up living out of 2CV Llew's old caravan down by the Shipwright's Arms!

This urgency set off a little plan to make good any 'delapidations' as they say in rental house terms including a big dint and crack put in the landing ceiling by Dad when he was heaving a bookcase flat-pack about. There are also several other cracks caused by the house being built on a brickyard in 1936, so Mum and Dad call for the best builder(s) they know to get a quote for re-sheeting the ceiling etc. These are, of course, the "Panini Brothers" who knocked our kitchen and dining room through in November 2009 - see many blog posts for more detail.

Ah the Panini Brothers

How well we ate that month.....

Deefs