Whomping Willows

Morning all, no blog from me yesterday due to 2 things.

One – Wales losing the grand slam induced hangover, caused by me forgetting that the beer I was drinking was Belgian 8.5% beer and not for the faint-hearted, and 2, binge-watching the last season of Line of Duty (which I persist on repeatedly calling Call of Duty). I’m fully versed now on the UCO in the OCG being investigated by EC12. As Hastings would say, “Mother of God”!

There’s a special place in hell for those Facebookers that announce the winner of Bake-off, Pottery Show Down, Masterchef or Strictly within seconds of the final. You know who you are!! Stop it! Some of us are consistently playing catchup, in fact I think 3 months is a suitable timeframe to start a public on-line discussion about such things. I’ve barely been on FB today because someone will blab about Line of Call of Duty before I’ve had chance to watch it and then I’ll be forced to hurt people.

I don’t want you to think I’m TV obsessed, quite the contrary, I watch very little really. I am however a huge fan of the writing of Jed Mercurio. I hate figuring out the end of things, and watching something that he’s written I can barely breathe in case I miss something, and I am never ever right. It’s like reading the part of Silence of the Lambs where all of a sudden it hits you like a tonne of bricks that Hanibal has escaped by wearing someone else’s face as a mask. That, Thomas Harris, is how you write a book!

Today Le Mama and Le Papa have been in attendance to pollard our out of control front tree. It should be done yearly really, but last year (I forget why) it wasn’t done. Goodness me the amount of growth in that 2 year period was extraordinary, some of the branches I think were around 15ft. Le Papa was up the scaffolding, while Le Mama and I cleared the branches. An epic job was done, and now our tree is once again a Whomping Willow.

I’ve also weeded our front border, dug up a load of snowdrops that had divided and conquered, and I’ve spread them out in clumps around the orchard in-between the carpet of primroses, so I hope they’ll start to spread and do their magic for next year.

I moved the greenhouse staging from the cellar in the big house round to next door, and gave my dahlia family a little outing into the sun. Bring on warmer nighttime temps, because 24 big pots to lug inside and outside each day is likely to get old rather quickly.

Every time I come in the living room there are a few more leaves off the lemon tree, and some of the little terracotta balls that are on the top of the pot are on the carpet. I suspect cats are behind this…… The Podenco can open the door but they can’t, It’s like a tag-team operation!

They had very kindly left me another dead vole, displayed perfectly in the front border I was weeding as a gift. Along with some squashed daffodils that pretty much matched the radius of Barney’s arse….

After their killing spree, they like a nice relaxing day at kitty spa, where they are fed, then immediately bugger off upstairs to the corner of the spare room where I’ve put one of the old dog beds, for some sleep. From 9.00am this morning, until 4.00pm this afternoon absolutely zero movement, to the tune of considering popping a mirror under their noses to check for actual respiration.

Now they’re back outside for some more light murdering, before reappearing just after dark for more snacks and a nap before the evening murdering shift can commence.

I foolishly forgot to put suncream on, and given that I can burn on a cloudy day, I might resemble boiled ham by the morning. I certainly know that I’m stiffening up as I sit here writing this, so tomorrow might involve only light duties, rather than the strimming marathon that I had planned. Do I take the before bed precautionary Ibuprofen or wing it? The questions you ask yourself in your 40’s………

Laters…… V.

And after……

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