Saga of a woman old enough to know better who lets her life be governed by the ridiculous hobby of breeding and showing dogs, musing on life, the twenty first century, Cameron and his mini-me, and the occasional sheep.

Thursday, June 29, 2006


I have no interest in the World Cup. The planet footie is not on my flight plan. I have successfully avoided all TV and radio coverage so far, and intend to continue.

But I can`t avoid the leakage of footiemania into news and other programming. And I am sick of the efforts of the sport media to encourage a witch hunt to "out" any resident of the British Isles who will not take an oath to support England - sorry, "Engeland, Engeland" - and then condemn them roundly and watch with delight as someone like Andy Murray receives acres of hate mail. Anything to stir up news, and damn the morality. You can always tell a journalist a mile off by the bulge in his pocket - it`s the bill of sale for his grandmother.

I have never had a good word for the First Minister - but why is it so important that he should lie in public about what team he supports? Is the English arrogance really based on such insecurity that everyone has to be coerced into support?

Hell, it`s only a game. Grown men kicking a ball about for amazing amounts of money. Don`t ask me to care.

And what country would I support? Well, I have no English relatives. But I do have Brazilian ones..

.I guess that would leave me supporting a team that actually has a chance of winning.

Sunday, June 25, 2006

Heroine of the Soviet Union - a formidable lady Posted by Picasa
..beginning to look like the Hindenburg with fur.... Posted by Picasa


The three neutered ladies have positively ballooned. Their idea of post-operative regimen is solid eating, and this has turned them into very solid citizens quite rapidly. Kallista is beginning to look like the Hindenburg with fur.

I`ve started to call them the "heroines of the Soviet Union." You know what I mean. You`ve seen the pictures of these stalwart women from the period of Soviet Realist art, building dams with one brawny arm and raising families with the other, built like the tanks they used to drive.

I tell them this and they just stare at me. We`ve done it all, the stare says. Showing, winning, puppies - the whole nine yards. We`ve been. and we`ve done, and now we`re eating.

You can pin the medals on us any day now.

Sunday, June 18, 2006


I was talking to a friend about TV and admitting that I would probably be watching the new HBO offering, "Big Love", about a Mormon with three wives. She felt that being one of three was a really unpleasant idea.

"What about the opposite? Three husbands?"

She was emphatic that one had been quite enough.

"But," I persisted, "Suppose you could choose? You could have one who was an absolute hunk -"

"The stud," she said.

"Yes, and then you could have one who was the ideal handyman, and a third who holds down a really top-flight highly-paid job."

"It has possibilities," admitted my seriously doggy friend. "Of course you would have the last two neutered....."

Monday, June 12, 2006

IF ONLY.............. 

...a cat could have a peaceful half hour sitting on her own gatepost, thinking really deep thoughts. Posted by Picasa
....that cat, just for once, PLEASE, would fall off the post ! Posted by Picasa

Thursday, June 08, 2006

Not to be taken with water.... Posted by Picasa


I`m back! Another course of the enormous yellow pills and the tiny red ones, an appropriate amount of time spent sitting in the sun recovering, and I`m back blogging again'

Sitting in the sun has given me time to realise that there are a few changes about the old place, mainly to do with the wildlife.

Jim is gone. After three years of solitary living on my roof, huddled up to the chimney in bad winter weather, parading along the ridge in summer, he has flown off into that big crow world out there. Could it be romance calling?

I thought love had entered his life earlier in the year when he was joined on the roof by another crow. Alas, it soon became obvious that this was far from a love match. Jim and Russell fought grimly along the slates and up and down the gables, with sound effects belonging in The War of The Worlds. Things were never quite the same after that. I think his sense of security had gone. And now so has he.

Sadly missed is Notpavarotti the thrush. He was a summer feature on the very top of the tallest spruce, singing his heart out and almost getting some of the notes right quite a lot of the time, while a few branches down Mrs Notpavarotti was busy feeding her fledgelings and murmuring, "Cover your ears, dears - it`s your father again..."

And for some reason there are no bats.

We usually have a lot of bats. Tiny pipistrelles that come out at dusk and hoover up the midges. Anything that does that is a friend of mine. And since the windows are always open in summer, it`s not unusual for the odd bat to venture in and circle the ceiling, sending the dogs into a frenzy. Unlike birds, bats have no stamina and their flying time is short,so I have to catch the intruder in a towel - teeth like needles - and get it out before it becomes Papillon lunch.

I remember once when I had a similar chest infection, following one which headed into the bathroom. I thought I had it now, and rushed in. No bat.

It`s a very small bathroom. I checked all the corners. No bat.

Ceiling. No bat.

Floor. No bat.

Shower. No bat.

I didn`t feel all that well anyway. So I closed the door on it and went to bed. I would sort it out in the morning.

Came the dawn, and I went in there . No bat. Definitely a batfree zone. Had I imagined it? Holy hallucination, Batman!

I picked up a glass, filled it with water and went to take my pills. I put the glass to my lips, something slid down it - and I was touching noses with a very small, very damp, very unhappy bat.

She must have fallen into the glass, which was quite tall, and been unable to spread her wings or get a purchase to climb out. So tiny I hadn`t even noticed her.She was very ungrateful, and when I got the towel to put her out, a vicious struggle ensued, with much beating of leathery wings and snapping of needle teeth.....

....and that was only me.

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