I think Brian may have been away too long.
By chance yesterday evening he was home rather than out in a hotel somewhere. On my way to bed I announced "I'm off to bed sweetie, are you coming?", at this, Tealeaf leapt off the sofa and ran to stand at the hall door.
Woops. That was a give-away.
The mountain watches over the bay, a black shrouded sentinel flanked by the West Head and silhouetted by the evening sun.
The wind encompasses all, rattles the garden webbing, shakes the windows, creaks the timbers, tosses the sea in the bay and stills the dolphin gull on the wing. The wind pushes the weather past us, sliding up from the south west towards the coast ridge, a thin black line on the horizon capped by the eastern finial head.
Even the roar of the wind leaves stillness, filled by the clunking jenny, the barking dogs and the rhythmic "wocca" of a distant chinook heading for the refuelers.
The afternoon sun bleaches the flotsam of bones washed up on the sandy beach, while red beaked oyster catches whistle past, piercing the salt laden air.
The clouds sail past, pausing to rain on the waters between the heads. There is no land between us and the ice, no baffles for the southerlies. After dusk an eerie green arctic glow proclaims the continent to the south. The world moves slowly, ignoring hasty clouds.
The wind hurries while the land stays still. This is Fox Bay.
Took the dogs out this evening (fortunately minus Megan who was not keen) and rather than the woods walk I decided I wanted to go look at the river to see how bad it was.
Not a good plan.
Waded across a little stream which has a railway sleeper bridge (they float you know... this is good to know, should the deluge reach the top of our hill we can always build a raft from our deck). The water came to the top of my wellies, not over the top, just up to the top. EEK.
The dogs were MOST unkeen, though the wolfhound got into the swing of it and frisked around in the big "puddles" aka the Thames.
Ok - it IS wet down there. Very wet. Oh really?
What weir?
(I know I'm a bit obsessed with this rainy/floody stuff at the moment, but then so is everyone else over here. Blimey that river is FULL).
While perusing our (rather large ) hard drive full of pics I cam across a couple of things that amused me.
The first was a folder created on my birthday in 2005 with the title "Test My God This Had Better Work Or Kerri Will Kill Me". This was the year Brian (or rather those very clever dogs with their stolen credit cards) bought me the Canon EOS 20D. I never even noticed that he had opened the box!
The other was some negative scans of pics from 1985 of Fox Bay, I love these views.
Looking northwest to Sullivan and Philomel, I just love this skyline, so much so that I have a painting of these over our fireplace.
Fox Bay mountain, this used to be our view when washing up.
Ironically they don't get much snow out there, but because of the scenery when it did snow I rushed out with my camera and took loads of photos. Oh well, perpetuates the myth that it's really cold there.
We are very lucky people, we live in a really beautiful stretch of the English countryside, and more important (given the last two days weather) we live on top of a hill.
The River Thames has burst its banks at Pangbourne and the village is impassable.
But it WAS sunny this morning so lulled into a false sense of security I dragged Brian and the dogs out for a W-A-L-K in the afternoon at Lardon Chase, which has fabulous views.
There was a *bit* of sun, but then the clouds gathered.
And then, well, we had to hide under a tree.
We got wet, very wet. But then we were treated to this:
The rainbow was over Streatley, where ironically the regatta today was cancelled because its too wet. Hang on - aren't regattas held ON the river?
Next time I suggest a walk "between squalls", someone remind me to keep my trap shut please?
We have had a day of weather, SERIOUS weather. The weather dudes say we had something like 53mm of rain in 3 hours.
The knock on travel chaos across the country is quite alarming, roads and rail system are out everywhere, houses are flooded out, schools closed, villages and roads underwater.
Our work even let us out early to get home because the roads were so bad , I was lucky enough to find a route home that did not take too long, others out there are still stranded.
At home it had obviously been raining too:
Two of the apple trees had blown down, one ripped its stake out of the ground, the other snapped its (heavy duty) tie.
The drive was still draining when I got in... (who knows what it looked like earlier)
At least the bit that had not washed away.... much of our gravel is now running away down the lane.
For a year I commuted to the US to work, three weeks there, a long weekend at home. It nearly finished me off. At that time I had a portable CD player (MP3 players were still too new then). I used to sit in the airport and listen to this track from the Indigo Girls:
Jet fuel and traffic lines
Pulling up to the delta signs
Distant shape of my hometown
Black stain where the wheels touch down
I pick up the morning news
I pass the man who's never shined my shoes
Through security and to the train
That will take me to the airplane
Count the miles on the highway
The sum of all my days
There's a postcard there's a call
And there's a picture for your bedroom wall
But do you ever wonder through and through
Who's that person standing next to you
And after all the nights apart
Is there a home for a travelling heart
But if I weren't leaving you
I don't know what I would do
But the more I go the less I know
Will the fire still burn on my return
Keep the path lit on the only road I know
Honey all I know to do is go
A cup of coffee and my bags are packed
The same vow not to look back
Familiar emptiness inside
As the distances grow wide
And though I vow to memorize
The last look in your loving eyes
It's here dusk and there dawn
Oh it's like a curtain getting slowly drawn
But if I weren't leaving you
I don't know what I would do
But the more I go the less I know
Will the fire still burn on my return
Keep the path lit on the only road I know
Honey all I know to do is go
But if I weren't leaving you
I don't know what I would do
But the more I go it seems the less I know
Will the fire still burn on my return
Keep the path lit on the only road I know
I am so glad I stay home now.
Wonder if this song would work for Brian when he does this:
(if Brian is taing this picture - who is flying the plane?)
Or more importantly - this
I've done it. Yesterday I was dumping pics from my CF card and noticed the order was odd. On further checking I noted that I had clocked the numbers, gone from img_9999 to img_0001
That means in the last year and a half I have taken over 10000 pictures (we have other cameras...)
That's a lot of pics. Now let's see, in the old days a roll of 36 * 35mm 500 ISO colour film would cost, say £2.50 (we are talking ball park here). Development of said film would cost would also be around £3.00 (though you'd often get a cheapy roll of film thrown in free). So let's say that's £5.50 per roll total (forgetting the postage or petrol and wear and tear on shoes to get the film to the developers).
a tensy bit of math
10000/36 = 277 (rolls of film)
so 277* £5.50 = £1527.00
Blimey I've saved a lot of money.
Must be time to buy a new lens :-)
It is friday evening and the working week is done. And I seem have survived.
A glass of wine in hand, the water feature burbling, the dogs mooching about and the best bit is Brian will be home shortly. Will the weather hold to eat outside? Should I dig up some new potatoes? Should I pull carrots and make salad?
Too many decisions, pass the bottle please.
I love the way they carelessly self seed, giving not one jot for our frosty winters, I love the way they romp enthusiastically wherever they find themselves, I love their cheerful colours, I love the smell of the stems and flowers when you pick them.
So there I was last week, coughing my lungs out, at death's door, languishing on the sofa with a lemsip and a hot water bottle.
I looked across to the opposite sofa and what did I see? This:
Methinks someone is taking the piss. Cheeky bugger.
Ok make that 14 feet of dug up concrete... and we've relaid about 10 feet of sandstone path.
(you can just see the remnant of the old concrete path at the end there.)
That's about 125 Kg cement, and 500 Kgs sand, plus 16 sandstone slabs of varying size, and weight.
That's a LOT of lifting. We really know how to enjoy ourselves at the weekend. Remind me why we are doing this again? And no - there will not be any more flower beds... we have a LOT of flower beds...
Front garden 2003 - first year after we moved in. And had the entire drain run dug up. And dug the vegie patches.
Front garden this afternoon.
Ok I lie - just one teensy one next the garage...I might put herbs in there as it's close to the kitchen. Maybe underplanted with tete-a-tetes and windflowers. *sigh*
Oh dear, for the first time in ages we have a sunny day. This is nice, sort of. But what it does mean is that we need to carry on with the path laying. If I'm lucky and have any energy left I may just get to do some gardening.
I've just dug up 8 feet of concrete. There's only another 50 to go. Still, it's a good way to clear a post cold bunged up head. Bit drastic but what the hell.
Where's that rain when you need it?
Which has to be a good sign because I must still be breathing.
I had a very enthusiastic a damp wolfhound sitting on my lap after our walk today (in the rain of course). I don't mind being sat on by a 70 Kg dog, as long as he keeps those paws and claws to himself (I have some scars from a previous enthusiastic encounter and have learned to duck), but a DAMP soggy wolfhound is a bit much. He was very frisky, not sure why, but at least Brian is home tomorrow and can take his share of KuBrin greetings.
I picked peas tonight, this year I've grown a tall variety and it's doing very well. There's nothing like picking damp peas in the rain, the rattling of the young pods, the snap of the stems.
One of my earliest memories of my grandfather is being sat on the floor (me not him) shelling peas from his vegetable garden (where us kiddies were forbidden to go - gave it a "magic garden" appeal). Peas in the pod always make me think of him. 
Breakfast for the be-lurgified:
In the juicer:
1 small melon
2 apples
2 satsumas
1 tomato
used to wash down extra vitamins. I will get rid of this lurgy. I've now had three days off work and I'm still running a fever, we are not amused. Driving Sam to Brize probably did not help either, but had to be done. He must have left the Ascension Islands by now and be on the last leg down to MPA.
This morning's cucumber pick:
The other good thing from this morning was the arrival of my monthly to "Kitchen Garden" magazine. My dad bought me a year's subscription for christmas. Funny though, I remember in my late teens staying with my aunt and uncle who were watching "Gardener's World" on tv and thinking that gardening was THE most boring topic in the universe.
Oh how the mighty have fallen. Pass the border fork please.
An enthusiastic morning greeting from a geriatric deerhound. Megan tried her best to punch my lights out while I was rubbing her chest. She's on good form this morning. While I was loading the dishwasher I had to retrieve a purloined dog-food fork from her mouth.
Meanwhile I suspect the cookie thief was KuBrin, as he would not eat his breakfast then promptly threw up his pills. There's a magpie in the garden making the best of what's left.
The pilling thing is a bit complicated with a hypothyroid wolfie and an epileptic arthritic deerhound, plus Cleo has to be bribed to take her glucosamine:
I've promised Sam a cooked breakfast but it's now nearly 10AM and there are no signs of stirring from his pit. I'm hungry.
I am be-lurgified, the work virus has got me coughing up my lungs. But hey - this too shall pass. It's a shame though because my youngest brother Sam is on a flyby visit and I had taken tuesday as holiday so we could goof off together before whipping him off to Brize for the flight home the Falklands. He's just finished his second year at UNI and is away for a placement in Stanley. Lucky soul. Anyway I'm not the best company, maybe I will feel better tomorrow, Sam is always good fun to be around.
Meanwhile, on the gardening front, sadly I've had to curb the enthusiasm of the romping nasturtiums, in the veggie patch they were smothering the courgettes, in the GH they were choking the aubergines.
During the great concrete and paving slab laying expedition of 2007 (still unfinished) we did at one point find a veritable swarm of hairy black caterpillars, in the hedges, in the garage, everywhere. Brian, being a fierce and intrepid pilot who can land crippled airplanes, ran away while I removed the little critters from the garage where we are storing cement.
Yesterday we found out where some of them have gone, our shed is hosting these:
I wonder what they will hatch out into?
Oh, and it's still raining,
the grass is getting longer and it's still too wet to do anything more than pick veggies. I'm developing an unhealthy obsession with baby broad beans, if I eat any more I will turn into one:
