Stir Up Sunday

"Stir up, we beseech thee, O Lord, the wills of thy faithful people; that they, plenteously bringing forth the fruit of good works, may of thee be plenteously rewarded; through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen"

Church going types may recognise this as being a 'collect' from the Book of Common Prayer but more recently it features in programmes like The Archers as being the quote which is rolled out for "Stir Up Sunday", the Sunday "next before Advent", the day traditionally (in some circles) used for mixing up your Christmas Pud ingredients. This gives the pud a good chance for the flavours to meld and mature by the big day. 

For us it dawned crisp and frosty, with the grass nearly as white as the chickens, at first bright and sunny but then turning misty and dull and later thawing to a drippy wetness. It felt nice and Christmassy, like the true start to our Season of Good Will.

This is actually going to be our first Christmas in a sense, despite us being 19 years married. We were always invited to either Pud Lady's place in Hastings, or to Ireland for which we are, obviously, mightily grateful and we loved every one of them but now, with our own 'new' house we are determined to do it here and take our turn at being Host and Hostess.

So off we went on a special shopping mission yesterday to Castlerea armed with our list of ingredients. Liz is following a recipe from Pud Lady's beaten and battered 'family heirloom' cookery book which (Pud Lady may correct me here) I believe may have been a Wedding present to Pud Lady and Stamp Man way back and is called by us "Flo" (I think it is by a Florence Jacks, who was an equivalent to the more famous Mrs Beeton). This is the recipe Pud Lady has used for all my life and certainly for the 19 years Liz and I have been together. 

This being our first Christmas, it was pointed out to us by friend Mazy-Lou , it is also a good opportunity to start our own portfolio of 'family traditions'. To a degree we are there already because although we have never done the meal, we always decorate our house anyway and have a proper real Christmas Tree which we try to keep to a tasteful small amount of colours (this generally fails and we end up as garish as the next man) and clear (white?) fairy lights, plus we have traditionally purchased one tree decoration each new each year from some significant location. We have two, for example, from the market in New Orleans from when we were there, a crawfish and a 'beignet' (a New Orleans pretzel-type bread roll). If anyone reading this is coming anywhere near here at Christmas please do feel free to join in. Bring a tree decoration - big small, silly, serious, beautiful or kitsch, plain or garish - we will happily adopt them all and know that you were there to keep our tradition going.

Another tradition which is probably more widespread is for everyone in the household to take a turn at stirring the mixture and to make a wish. I can remember doing this when we lived at home and Liz tells me that the family photo 'archive' has almost an annual shot of kids round the kitchen table chopping peel and so on. We kept this alive this year with both Liz and I doing the honours but later on John Deere Bob called by on one of his drop in visits and Liz passed him the bowl and spoon to have a go. He was happy to oblige and joked that he'd wish for loads of money. We reminded him that money is one thing you are not allowed to wish for, and, anyway, he mustn't tell us or it wouldn't come true!

2 Old Codgers

With Mum up in Derbyshire at the Cousin's weddin' and Dad's younger bro' in 'Project Manager' made organising Pud Lady and T-for-Tom into undertakers and funeral arrangements for the Stamp Man, Dad feels he has a clear day.

We get a lovely walk first thing and then Dad takes off to the SB Cambria where a gang of volunteers are gathering every Saturday and Sunday at the moment, racing to get enough coats of paint onto her before the Spring Tides on which the Project Team hope to re-float the old girl. Today it's Dad's turn down under, in the 3-4 foot space under the barge's bottom slapping on yet another coat of silver-grey undercoat.

A word to the wise, he says. When painting almost lying on your back, don't ever get tempted to splash a big aul' gob of paint into your right eye. It will sting like mad and have you scurrying around, half blinded trying to get up out of the lighter and off to a source of clean water to rinse it out. Ouch. I heard a rumour that safety goggles had been invented to prevent just such a problem, but what do I know? I'm only a dog.

Dad splits at 2 returning to sort us out and to grab soup and bread. Then we're off to meet Llew at the caravan down by the Shipwrights' Arms. This is a great place, with lots of nooks, crannies, old boats and outbuildings to check out. Dad and Llew share a coffee, then Dad invites Llew (and Rosie the Jack Russell) back here for risotto. The guys light a fire and settle down like a couple of old codgers to put the world to rights. We dogs are sprawled out everywhere, enjoying the heat of the fire.

Have a good weekend and, Mum, hope the wedding's going off OK

Deefski

Stamp Man

We're sorry today to have to report the passing away of the member of this cast, 'Stamp Man' who died peacefully in his hospital bed at 10 o'clock this morning. He was 85, Bless Him, so he'd had what Dad calls a good innings, and he went with no pain or trauma. Pud Lady says he looked like he was asleep.

Bye Bye Stamp Man; we will miss you. It will be odd you not being there when we visit Pud Lady in Hastings.

Meanwhile, we are all deserted this weekend by Mum who is off up to darkest Derbyshire to a (distant) family wedding. Dad has amazingly got away with swerving this on the grounds of too many girly cousins, and the need to babysit us. Nice one Dad.

Have a Good Weekend
Deefs

Happy Christmas!

OK, this one's a bit of a swizz, as the snow round here has, in fact, almost all washed away but I thought you might like a quick picture of our old chum SB Greta all snugged down in her poly-tunnel under the snow, with a smudge of smoke coming from her chimney. Owner/Skipper has a superb heating system down in there paid for by his main sponsor in lieu of a corporate sailing weekend. Looking for all the world like an old fashionned Kitchen Range (even down to the dark green enamel), pull open any of the "oven doors" and you reveal a hi-tech display of buttons, lights, control dials and digital displays. The barge is as warm as toast inside, even when we are reading -11 degrees C up on the Thanet Way.

There's no 'white Christmas' this year, but we're all awake from about 06:30 and the humans are up to their usual silliness ripping presents open on the bed before they have drunk their first cups of coffee. Mum had been to Midnight Mass so we were all a bit surprised she woke up. She'll probably collapse this evening and sleep like a log.

Today we are off to Hastings to visit and feed the Pud Lady and the Stamp Man. I say 'we' - it's actually a joint effort this year. Dad's bro, Tom has got the party started by putting the enormous turkey in before we got there and set the bread/onion sauce going. Our part is to do veg's and the final cooking, serving, carving etc, so we come down armed with allotment spuds, carrots, parsnips, sprouts etc. It's a good drive down on clear roads with only occasional patches of ice. The meal goes well and everybody has a good time. Mum gets Pud Lady well tanked up on sherry and champagne (not both together). We come away with a mountain of goodies - as well as the presents we have half a turkey, a whole salt beef (still frozen), barm brack and a very pink Acacia. J-M Silverwood would love it.

We race back in time for Doctor Who and, with the car now parked up and no longer needed, Dad can also have a drink.

Hope you're enjoying your Christmas

Deefs

5000 visits

Hey! We made it. Site meter is recording the fact that this blog scored 5000 visits by Friday 25th which is quite neat timing.

We were off down to visit Pud-Lady and Stamp-Man, where Mum and Dad were due to cook the turkey dinner. In the event, Mum got so focussed in the small kitchen and was enjoying herself so much that, except for lifting heavy turkeys out of the oven and the carving itself, she rebuffed all offers of assistance. Dad was left to chat with the other guests, T-Fer and friend-of-the-family, Jane.

I caused a quick flurry of excitement myself, of course, when I found that a badger dig under the fence meant I could get out of the Steak Lady's garden, and then off across 3 or 4 more gardens. This was much too exciting for me to worry about Dad whistling and calling (won't be a minute Dad; I just have to check out these hutched rabbits and these Dogs going mad barking at me strolling around because they are inside a fenced cage).

I was very good - I always knew where Dad was, and I made sure to keep giving him glimpses of me in various gardens, but eventually he clambered over a few fences and cornered me. There after I was only allowed out in the garden on a lead, which seems a bit mean.

Meal eaten, prezzies exchanged and opened, we headed back to home with a pleasing amount of cold turkey left overs, via a nice sighting in the headlights, of Fallow Deer in Challock Forest, to chill out with our bloated stomachs, to watch Doctor Who. It's been a very good Christmas all round. I hope yours was as nice.

My pic shows a recent Cambria shot, just for an update, deck-beams almost complete and the start of deck planking going on, as we headed in to Christmas.

Enjoy the weekend

Deefer

Pud Lady

Off down to Hastings today for lunch with the Pud Lady, and a good scout around her garden. This, though, is not a Saturday and there are other guests, so there's no pud, but a smorgasbord of other edibles created by Mum and Sue. Sadly for us, the guests are all either non-dog people, or they are wise dog people, so there's no snack-age forthcoming. I am reduced to nicking some goats cheese out of a bag which Mum left too close to the dog-shelf. This I am now regretting, but not extracting much sympathy for.

The good news is that the Stamp Man may be coming out of hospital tomorrow after a protracted stay. You may remember that Dad was down there weeks back painting out his old room, which is now equipped by a servo-assisted bed, a get-in-and-out-of-bed aid and other modern medical-style services. All are holding their breaths to see if he actually comes out.

Meanwhile, at the allotment, the asparagus bed is finally producing harvest - today the first ever spears (2 of them). These beds were first planted 3 years ago, so have been allowed to grow and consolidate, but this year we're allowed to cut a few spears to eat

Deefer

Dad's old room

What a day! We're up fresh and early and whizzed off to the frozen Rec to let off steam, running around in the frozen grass. Unfortunately I lose yet another favourite "toy", a fairly dense sponge rubber ball which I have loved to death - chewed all the outer colour off it so that it is mainly white, which means it gets lost in the frost.

But we're off to Hastings to the Pud Lady. Stamp Man is still in hospital and the Occupational Therapy types have got all involved, so now when he comes home it has to be to a hospital-style bed, not to Pud-Lady's saggy mattress, dark carved oak angels too-tall-for-a-westie-to-jump-up-on ancient one. So it has been decreed that Dad's old room will be cleared of the build up of 25 years of boxes of second hand books, cleaned and completely redecorated.

Walls and floors that have not seen the light of day since before Meggie was born will be swept, de-cobwebbed, sugar-soaped, scraped, sanded and painted to within an inch of their lives. We are all loaded into the 2CV and high tailing it to help. Dad's other brother and his good lady, the family that "don't do dogs" will be there (we mentioned them a couple of blogs ago, I recall) and so will T-fer. Pud Lady (on the instructions of Mum) will be forcibly restrained, sat in an easy chair and fed sherry, and denied all chance to lift a finger.

Even lunch will be bought-in salads and stuff (plus Pizza and quiche at the request of Pud-Lady, who is rather mischievously varying her diet away from things that Stamp-Man would like in his absence at Hospital. Go Pud-Lady! You Rebel, you!

We are excluded from the room at some stages (something about gloss paint on skirting boards) but that's OK. We entertain Pud-Lady and enjoy chasing round the mature wooded garden. Dad spoils the fun a bit by telling everyone not to feed us when we scrounge. Spoilsport!

All done by 3.30 pm, and it's still a lovely sunny day, so Dad rolls the 2CV roof back and we cruise home again. I spend some of the trip standing up on the back seat. leaning heavily on Dad's shoulder, with my nose raised into the airflow coming across the top of the car. Lots of sheep to look at across Romney Marsh, but as yet they are all fat fat Ewes - not a lamb to be seen yet!

Have a good weekend
Deefski.

Bitter Wind

After a succession of lovely Spring-like days and sunshine, it's a big shock tonight when out of no where comes a bitterly cold wind that cuts through a dogs fur and has all the humans at the "terrier club" on the Rec tonight wearing gloves and buttoning up their coats to the chin. It's not an official terrier club - it just so happens that the half dozen dogs who accumulate in the middle of the Rec are all terrier sized - we three, Misha, Bobby, Mindy.

I've not been on for a couple of days - we've been down to Hastings in the interim to visit the Steak Lady at her lovely, mature, wooded garden. It's a gathering of the Clan for Dad's family, so the Swindon lot (who don't "do" dogs are there) as well as Steak Lady's sis and bro-in-law who normally have big boy Dalmatian "Milo" (but not today - he's at home with one of Dad's cousins)

The Swindon lot are most curious and confuse us no end. They are the only humans we meet regularly who don't like dogs. The mother has always hated them, so the father avoids them out of loyalty, and the daughter has been brought up to shoo them (us) away. Nothing personal, and I'm sure they'd never lift a finger to hurt a dog, but no matter how much charm we turn on, we can make no headway.

Stamp-Man is actually in hospital at present having a series of tests to see if he has a heart or a brain (apparently he does, and they are both fine). We divert over to the big Conquest Hospital on the way home so that Mum and Dad can go visit him. He is bright enough but fed up with hospital life as he heads into his 2nd week, and is very rude about the veggie sausages they tried to feed him - they taste like sawdust, he says. We're with you there Stamp-Man, you hurry and get well soon. You look after yourself, too (and him) "T-Fer" (Human with the name nearest to mine!)

Deefski

Sad News

Sad news to bring you, I'm afraid. Denis, step-father of Diamond and owner of Rags (Asbo, our old mate) passed away at 5 o'clock this morning. Our thoughts are all with Diamond and the family. Mum stays round there today to lend moral support, and Dad takes us in the 2CV down to Hastings to see the Pud Lady and the Stamp Man.

Out of nowhere, the South East of England is finally having an Indian Summer, so it's a chance for Dad to don shorts and sandals and roll the roof down on the 2CV for the run down (and back). Gotta catch up on the Poros tans somehow - just a shame we couldn't have had decent sunshine for narrow boating, or Duncombe Park, or any other of the wet windy events we've been involved in this "Summer"

We have great fun feretting about in Pud Lady's mature woodland garden. Pud Lady is convinced they have seen a rat, so we are put to work a-sniffing. Dad knows that if there are rats hiding anywhere, Meggie's unfailing nose will sniff them out and we will all "point" - noses pressed to a hole, ears pricked, tails up, sniffing and darting about in prey-focus mode. No such luck. We wander about aimlessly, with no sign of the little varmints. False alarm this time, Pud Lady, unless they're scentless rats!

Deepest sympathies to Diamond
Deefer