Mary Jo

A couple of fun pics tonight - couldn't resist this one of Meggie's eyes peering at the telephoto. We have in the house a similar shot of a Westie who lived in, we think, Hawaii, in the days when Mum and Dad used to frequent a Yahoo Westie chat forum. It's been photo-shopped (or 10-year-ago equivalent) till it looks like a water-colour done with a large brush, and it's almost impressionistic. We have it framed.

Then a pic of Mum's chums, some mozzies, dancing around in the slanting evening sunshine, and seen against the dark of a honeysuckle growing up the fence. Poor old Mum is suffering at the moment having been bitten to death by one (or more) a couple of (warm) nights back. She must be very attractive and tasty to the mozzies - Dad has no such problems.

A sad day yesterday for Diamond and John (Rags's Mum and Dad) - they have lost at 97, John's old Mum, Mary Jo, and the funeral yesterday saw her laid to rest in the Cemetery where we often walk. So tonight we diverted over to pass by the grave and pay our respects. Well, Dad did - the cemetery to we dogs means only one thing - hot and cold running rabbits, so we were pulling every which way on the leads, while Dad tried to keep a semblance of "decorum in the forum" as he read the card(s) and the plaque.

Back through the Rec where we saw, at a distance, but didn't get to talk to, tiny black Patterdale Sue, from yesterday, but did get a good run around with my sister Ellie. Dad and Ellie's Mum now agree that we have become very similar in size, build, speed and boisterousness. We (Ellie and I) seem to have bulked up to the same degree. Mind you, she was, as always, whiter than white and splendidly groomed, while I go in for the lived in look. Go Ellie

Deefer

New Kids - watch out Ragworth

It's a warm Spring day, and Dad can walk us, for the first time, in his shirt-sleeves. We head for the Rec, where it seems that everyone is out and about, and there are a few new faces.

Little tiny "Sue", all-black Patterdale Terrier pup at only 11 weeks and enjoying only her 4th walk out in the big wide world. Her owner is cool with this and has her off the lead, where she tears about in that semi-co-ordinated way tiny pups have. She's no bigger than one of Dad's feet, and feet are a theme with her. She chases over to any new passer by and launches an attack on their shoe-laces, flopping over as she grabs them till she's lying on her back on the person's feet to cries of "Ahhh- isn't she cuuuuuute!" etc.

I chase her about at one stage, but it's easy to catch her up and the smallest nudge sends her cart-wheeling, tripping over her own feet, so Dad tells me to be less rough. This, he says, is another baby Ragworth, who will grow up remembering your bullying, and come back to get you, with her mate Rags, and then there will be two of them!

Also out there is an 8 month old very glossy black and tan terrier (doberman colours, terrier size and shape) called Sonny, out romping with her much oklder companion, black terrier Lucy. Sonny's good fun for a while, too. Patch is there too.

We're done in by the time we head back for the main path, and there we come across Mum coming home from work.

Deefer

Tayto Crisps

Dad and his English compatriots may hanker after the taste of the old Smiths Crisps, with the twist of blue paper containing the salt (Smiths tried to re-introduce it once, says Dad, with a sachet you had to tear the top off, but it was never the same). "Ready salted" was a new and bold innovation once! Can you believe it? (Says Dad, pitching his tent firmly in the "Old Gits" camp!)

But to Mum, the flavours of childhood carry a different brand name "Tayto". Along with "TK" red lemonade (it's a golden red a bit like Lucozade) it evokes a childhood spent in the Liberties area of Dublin, seriously dodgy at the time but now, of course, very chi-chi. It's near what is now the South Circular "behind the cathedral", Dublin 8.

Like Dad's "St Helen's", now very much part of Hastings, Elphinstone Road and the "Pilot Field" is gets them both talking of being able to play in the street, but if you went beyond that line in the concrete any of the local Mums could come out and clip you round the ear and send you back into the allowed bit.

The packet in my pic is one Mum brought home from her recent (homesick) visit to Ireland, where the family now live in Portmarnock. We got to taste some and Meggie and I approved, but to Haggis, crisps are "plants" and the H doesn't do plants. Remember George? The seal, celebrity and long time resident of Howth Harbour? Mum went to visit him, and he's now proudly showing off his harem of 6 female seals. Good Man, George!

Have a great weekend

Deefski

Rotovatin'

Dad has the afternoon off in order to be here for the Gas Man, who's coming to service the "aul' boiler" (no comment). Gas man comes and goes, very efficiently by about 3pm, so Dad hikes up to the allotment to do the Rotovating. It's hard physical work, because that old beast is a big powerful thing, and Dad spends all the time fighting it's wayward tendency to take off across the plot.

All the time, he and his allotment mates are ruefully watching a massive John Deere with a 40-50 foot gang of 4 discs and rollers doing to acres in seconds out on the (new) fields, what it is taking Dad hours to do per square yard. The tractor guy is followed by hundreds of gulls swooping and crying after the turned up worms. Dad is supporting one robin. Yes, the job of turning the "nature reserve" out back into an oil seed rape monoculture is proceding a-pace.

We aren't allowed up - there is this theory that dogs and rotovators don't mix. I was only trying to bite the wheels Dad! In the end we get our walk across the Rec where we meet 8 month old Cav, "Alfie" and try to have a run around. I'm up for it, and Alfie keeps trying, but as soon as it's me chasing him, and I look like catching up he stops and cowers, tail between legs, which puts a bit of a dampener on the game and I get bored and wander off, where upon he chases me again. Odd dog. Needs to learn to play in a Deefer-style, mildly robust way!

Deefer

Jeepers Creepers

We are out and about all day with 2CV Llew. Dad has him booked to diagnose whether the dynamo on the project 2CV (Mademoiselle) really is failing to send any charge to the battery, or whether this is just bad luck on the part of the shaky hands diagnosis of JJ. Inevitably this mission gets wrapped around with sundry other errands and tasks that distract 2CV Llew from the business in hand.

But heh, it's a lovely warm sunny day, we've nothing killing and Mum is in Ireland, so we chill out. Also, we get to ride about all day in a Jeep Grand Cherokee, which means loads of space in the back to stretch out (all be it smelling strongly of Llew's dog and dog-in-law, Rosie and a springer of whom we cannot currently recall the name).

Also we get into some interesting new places where we are fee to explore nooks, crannies, old caravans, old buildings and so on. First up is the boatyard by the Shipwrights pub where the humans have to move the caravan (pictured) from one place to another. It serves as Llew's Summer house and chill-out place and will be surrounded with potted plants, barbecue equipment and one of those pot-kiln type patio-heaters. It also has a generator, so he gets TV and all the mod cons.

Next up, we Jeep it down to a farm half way between Dover and Folkestone, off the old A20, to look at an old 2CV incomplete restoration project which the owner has contacted Dad about in case we knew anyone who might buy it. Always awake to the possibility of a bargain, Llew is on the trail. Turns out the guy also has in an out-building, a very rusty, French reg'd Ami 8 Estate, so then Dad needs to phone Andy B (being the most likely bloke to want that)

And finally, to the barn where Mmle is stored. She fires up like a dream (better than Dad's "normal" 2CV, in fact) and Llew does his stuff with the meter, but sadly confirms the JJ diagnosis. The dynamo might be generating all sorts of power, but none of it is getting out of the spinning dynamo and up any cables to either the voltage regulator, or the battery.

However, all is not lost, as Llew knows 2 different blokes called Kevin, both of whom happen to be experts in the old electrics of old cars, like Mmle's 6 volt 1961 set up. He is hopeful that one of these Kevins will be able to sort her out in time for her brave intrepid mission in May to La Chapelle d'Armentieres.

Hope you, too had a good weekend

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.

Deck Beams

Never let it be said that I don't post a goodly variety of pics on this blog. Tonight you have a couple of land-mark stages on the barge - the fittibng of the first cross-ways deck-support beam. A big curved baulk of oak, 23 feet long. The guys have finished the framing now, so we are starting on the covering in phase.

The pic below shows the beam looking towards the bow of the barge, and the other pic, above, is taken from far-right on that pic, looking from outside the barge. from Starboard quarter towards port quarter.

The flowers are a magnificent arrangement supplied by local shop Botanica (in whom we have no vested interest, but who have so impressed Dad that he's happy to provide the link

http://www.botanicaonline.net/

They were actually ordered by Mum for the Pud-Lady, but Mum has nipped off to Portmarnock to see Steak-Lady, and Dad collected them from the very nice ladies in the shop this afternoon. Pud Lady will be only delighted we know.

It's a lovely warm Spring weekend, and we've been out on the Rec where the world and his wife were out walking their dogs - we met so many regulars (Finzi, Misha, Ben) plus a new kid on the block, little 4 month old red terrier "Reg".

Have a great weekend, and all you Mums, have a great Mothers' Day

Deefski