Koi, Frog Corner and Tenko

Hector thought it might be a good idea to get some Koi for our tiny pond. I have some reservations about this as we haven't been very lucky even with gold fish so far. They either get eaten by the heron who patrols our garden...or they simply curl up their fins and go to the great bowl in the sky.

I'm not sure which fate is worse.

We do have some very healthy frogs though.

Smile? Why Should I?

Don't you just hate people who tell you to smile?

Telling me to smile doesn't make me want to smile any more than I did before they told me to smile.

Anyway how do they know I haven't just that very moment finished smiling for an hour or more?

I may simply be tired from smiling and taking a well-earned break before my next big smile-a-thon.

If you want me to smile, then don't tell me to smile.

After The Tsunami

Hector and I went to Thailand shortly after the tsunami hit Phuket in 2005. The island was eerily empty of tourists and apart from a tiny handful of Austalians, the place was deserted.

It was pretty unnerving being there. I was very glad we were in an apartment up on the fourth floor (just in case). We were the only people on the whole of that floor and both the swimming pools were mostly empty too. It was a ghost town.

I would swim each day in either of the two huge pools and the only sounds that could be heard were those of the jungle creatures nearby. The whole experience was madly surreal.

Morecambe By The Seaside

Morecambe is quite well known for a few things really. Eric Morecambe is one of course (his real name was Eric Bartholomew and he used to live in a house around the corner from our local chippy. It is a very ordinary terraced house. Really nothing to get excited about, but if I think on, I'll take a picture of it sometime).

I'm not sure if the clock tower on the promenade is famous, but as I have taken quite a nice picture of it, we'll say it is.

Morecambe is definitely famous for the birdlife and particularly for cormorants. Look there's one!

The sunsets are quite nice too.

Oh yes! We're cutting edge in Morecambe.

Mia (2005 - present)

After the sudden and very sad demise of Georgie Girl in 2004, we were never ever, ever going to have another dog. Losing a much loved, four legged member of the family is just too hard to bear. We also told ourselves that the house would be free of slobber and hair. We would be free of the responsibilities that all pets bring with them and we could travel whenever and wherever we liked. We told ourselves this for almost two whole years.

The house was spotlessly clean...but so empty. There also seemed to be a rash of doggy programmes on tv. I watched them all. I began to leap on every unsuspecting dog who came close enough for a stroke and a kiss.

Finally in June 2006, Hector found a copy of Victoria Stilwell's book on dog training stashed under a cushion,. He finally admitted defeat...and off we went to the local animal rescue shelter where we found a 12 month old boxer girl called Mia.

And that's where her story with us begins...


Mia absolutely idolises children and happily plays for hours with our grandson, Little Hector.

I'm afraid she is rather a daddy's girl. When Hector is home, I don't get a look in.

Mia loves her teddies and sleeps with them every night. Sometimes she can get quite rough with them though, and teddies have been flung high into air, often landing on top of cupboards. Gawd knows how she would treat real puppies!

The bane of every dog's life. Bathtime.

Georgie Girl (1993 - 2004)

Here is my poor old darling a year before she died. She may have looked an old girl, but her spirit was young and her kindness shone out her.

World Cup Georgie!

Charlie Boy (1992 - 2000)

To our mild surprise, Charlie survived puppyhood. He never really grew up though. Boxers don't. They are forever young dogs.

When Charlie was about three years old, we were offered Georgie, a little rescue girl. She had been owned by a motorcycle policeman. All her life, she hated men wearing flourescent jackets and most of all she hated men wearing flourescent jackets riding motorbikes.

Charlie Baby

In October 1992, we went to collect our first ever puppy. We were allowed to choose his name from a list of two. 'Good Time Charlie' or 'Way Out Willy'. Can you guess which one we picked?

We took home the newly christened, Good Time Charlie Faerdorn. Charlie was just 12 weeks old. His daddy was a terribly famous champion called Ch. Faerdorn Pheasant Plucker. Here are some of his other famous relatives too.

http://www.faerdorn.co.uk/

Although, I had been brought up with dogs, my parents had done all the real work with them, and Hector and I really had no clue. Suddenly this little fellow was all ours. It was far more traumatic than having a baby.

Our Studio

This is the room that we have set aside in our house to be used as a studio.

Hector and I usually sneak in here on a Sunday afternoon, we crack open a bottle of wine, turn on the radio and then happily splash paint onto our canvases for a couple hours. (Well, it's a great excuse to open a bottle of wine).

What's Your Beef?

I stopped my car one freezing winter morning on a busy country road and, at great risk to life and limb, took this picture of a nosy young bullock.

He's kinda cute though, don't you think?

Orchids

Here are four different types of orchids (the plant in the middle is a 'lucky bamboo') that seem to live happily on our bathroom windowsill.

I think they are lovely.

My Most Favourite Joke Of All Time

A little paper bag was feeling unwell, so he took himself off to see the doctor.

"Doctor, I don't feel too good," said the little paper bag.

"Hmm, you look OK to me," said the Doctor, "but I'll do a blood test and see what that shows, come back and see me in a couple of days."

The little paper bag still felt no better when he went back for the results.

"What's wrong with me?" asked the little paper bag.

"I'm afraid you are HIV positive!" said the doctor.

"No, I can't be - I'm just a little paper bag!" said the little paper bag.

"Have you been having unprotected sex?" asked the doctor.

"NO, I can't do things like that - I'm just a little paper bag!"

"Well have you been sharing needles with other intravenous drug users?" asked the doctor.

"NO, I can't do things like that - I'm just a little paper bag!"

"Perhaps you've been abroad recently and required a jab or a blood transfusion?" queried the doctor.

"NO, I don't have a passport - I'm just a little paper bag!"

"Well", said the doctor, "are you in a homosexual relationship?"

"NO! I told you I can't do things like that, I'm just a little paper bag!"

"Then there can be only one explanation." said the doctor...

"Your mother must have been a carrier."

New Innocence - A Poem

new innocence? is it possible for new and innocent to sit side by side?
does innocence imply a pre-innocent period that exists until it is lost?
once lost, how can innocence ever be regained?
is innocence even that important?
remember how we couldn't wait to lose our innocence? who decides what is innocent?

who is innocent? who is capable of understanding a means to regain innocence once lost?
is that even possible?
who hurts innocence? who kills it?
who keeps us from keeping innocence? who? and once new, does it immediately start down the path to old?

can new exist only once and for a second? seems that new occurs in cycles.
that things become old but become the grounds for new.
seems that new springs from old, seems new borrows from old.
seems like dreams exist to remember how to be new.

can the leaves of spring remember the colours of autumn? they will get their turn.
will the fruit remember the flowers?
does the calm know about the sleepless nights?
does green know white? it exists for at least this reason.
to rush back to you is to return to innocence.

i dream of new encounters.
i forget the old ones except maybe the effort of the plantings.
there is golden light around you.
the warmth comes with closeness on the coldest night.
with you innocence is new again.

by Blasting Songbirds

The World's Oldest person (Again)

Maybe I just pick the wrong days to read the newspaper, but it seems like I read fairly regularly that another oldest person has died.

Is it the same old person fooling us every time? Not really dead, but merely enjoying making the headlines each week? Or are we just experiencing a rash of oldest people losing the will to stay the oldest.

Whatever the case may be, things aren't looking good for whoever is the next oldest, but then again, at least he or she is probably too old to actually see to read about all these other oldest people.

Someone To Shout At

I have determined that the ideal person missing from my life is someone who I can shout at. And that is the only purpose they would serve.

Not that I shout a lot, mind you. Or have a need to shout much or often, but sometimes, there just needs to be some shouting, because nothing else seems to work, and the only thing that I think will make me feel better is to shout at someone in a big way.

I have friends and I have family. I have lots of good people who are good in my life, but these are all relationships that could potentially be damaged by dealing with too many of my crazy ways. Sometimes I am angry. Or hurt. Or frustrated. Or whatever. Maybe about something in particular. Or maybe I'm just having one of those "angry at the world" days. And sometimes I just need someone I can shout at for a few minutes.

However, this needs to be someone not directly related to why I am needing to shout. Or more importantly, someone who doesn't really have any idea about why I am shouting. It needs to be an impartial third party. I have friends who will take a good shouting from me. And I don't mind getting shouted at from time to time. We all need to have these friends in our lives who will put up with a shouting on occasion. But it is rare that I will do that to them. And it is rare that they will take that from me.

Especially if I'm shouting for no good reason, or for something they didn't do.

So, to have a someone in my life who was there just for me to shout at would get rid of the issue of hurting a friend's feelings, or taking advantage of a relationship by shouting too much. This shouted at person would serve the sole purpose of being the person I can call in the event I need to shout about something.

It should be a random person that isn't directly in my life. Someone I only talk to when I need to shout. Someone who doesn't need to know the details, doesn't really care about me and of course, doesn't shout back or offer advice during the shouting. Most importantly, that person has to be available in the middle of the night, completely okay with me ringing to wake him or her up for a good shouting, and absolutely unaffected by the whole ordeal and not angry at me the morning after. It is important for this person to be non-affected and completely unfazed. That way I don't feel guilty for shouting, and he or she is certain not to care at all about anything I've shouted about.

It's perfect. No strings attached. No commitment, other than being the person I know I can call when I wake up, can't sleep and I need to let someone have it.

I will be auditioning for this role, possibly anytime, potentially between the hours of 2 and 4am, weeknights only. Be sure to leave me your phone number if you are interested.