Paid to Say ?

I find myself sitting, not for the first time, in John Lewis coffee shop , in fact cashing in my free latte on my loyalty card . I am in JL in the first place due to a brain malfunction late last night when I became convinced I had purchased the Wrong Present for my sister .

I confer with D about his arrangements today and we discover that if I leave for town just as he leaves court for home , he can probably be back before the dog has had a nervous breakdown .

Thus I arrive , somewhat puffed by earlier events , of which more to follow , at the Birthay Present Counter and am told that I have in fact purchased exactly the Right Present . What was I thinking of ?

So now here I am with an hour's credit in the parking machine and what better to do than drink coffee.

I cast my eye about thinking of the anonmous letter posted through my car sunroof earlier and trying not to draw too many conclusions , when my eye lights upon a framed advertising poster on the far wall .
A man in a very tall chef's hat stands by the counter of the shop holding in front of him a very big cake .His face is beaming . He is pleased with that cake. The wording reads thus " We are paid to say our scones and cakes are made fresh each day by our team of patisserie chefs for your enjoyment "
I stare in amazement and my lip curls ... paid to say ? Paid to Say ? These companies pay millions , allegedly, for their advertising and they tell the punters in the coffee shop that they are "paid to say" that their cakes are nice ?

I text my sister to tell her about the sunroof incident and she texts back . It is only at this point when I apply my spectacles and everything focuses slightly more sharply that I realise that John Lewis are in fact Proud to Say etc ....

And there was me with my perfect long distance vision ....

Meanwhile I have a ricotta and lemon cake and a summer berry cake to make myself . And when I can proudly announce that I have made them , I will return with the Mystery of the Anonymous Sunroof Saboteur.

Pearl , the Senior Birman , pictured above , has been off colour for a while .
We have not hurried to the vet with her because a) she hates that so much , and b) in between lying looking forlorn and squirting from both ends she has been her usual mischevious self shying nail files and clocks and so forth at the not-so-skinny- greyhound from her vantage point on the mantelpiece much as usual. She has even piddled in Alice's bed three nights on the trot . But we begin to wonder if this is a sign of Distress rather than (Conduct) Disorder when she fails to appear as usual to sit on D's lap and nip his elbow at her leisure , preferring instead to rest languidly draped over the guinea pig hutch in the kitchen away from the mainstream of family life.
So I whisk her away to the vet this afternoon , ignoring point c) its quite expensive.
As we draw up in the village the heavens open and Pearl emits a low moan like that of a labouring heifer. I know , I think , heading for the ticket machine and trying to draw Nat's too small jacket closer round me . She is safely ( or perhaps not so safely in Majorca, we hear there are more bombs. I try not to think ) on holiday and has no need of coats with hoods. The waiting room is full and we are so relieved to find a seat that it is fifteen minutes before I remember to sign us onto the List . Thus we are last on said list . I watch three other animals arrive and their Owners with Brains sign them in in front of me . Finally the penny drops . I have only been doing this for some twenty years .....

Finally , after an hour's wait , during which we watch our neighbour's dog Charlie emerge complete with Lampshade round the neck, we are seen and Pearl is diagnosed with a possible tapeworm , or ( the alternate diagnosis ) Irritable Bowel Syndrome .
She has two injections and a tablet is prescribed which the vet will give . Which the vet will attempt to give .

Pearl thinks not .
We wrap her in a pale green towel , very tasteful , her paws out of sight to stop them tearing us to shreds and she is backed up against me . Quick as a flash she reverses down inside the tube of the towel , lashes at the vet ( perhaps apologetically , after all they are both very blonde and very lovely) and then sits back and waits , mouth firmly closed . "Hm " says the vet . "Very fast and Very feisty".
We re wrap . The vet weighs her up . She stands back and examines her finger . I try not to look at the damage .

She decides to call for assistance .

The nurse comes in and after a fight it goes very quiet . Pearl is wrapped in the towel . Only her little face pokes out . Suddenly she goes completely limp .

" Oh . " says the vet " Have you given up , has the fight gone out of you? "

I massage her heart , worried . They trigger the pill down and squirt water after it . Pearl makes a pill face . She is not pleased . They lift her up . She flops . They unwrap her . She stands up . She looks round at everyone .
I wonder who will pay the price later .

Back at home she rubs happily against everyone and doesn't seem offended in the slightest . Perhaps she didnt notice I was there ? Or perhaps she has a cunning plan .

c1 specially for Silliyak Citroën UK Cars - The range - Citroën C1

A mouse in the Feeder

Despite the note telling me all about the bird feeder near the garden shed which houses a mouse , I still manage to set my heart racing . On the third day I notice the feeder is empty whilst conducting a finger tip search of the garden for one of the cats which has gone missing in action and whilst filling in time hoping for the return of the senior wanderer , I bring out the sunflower hearts and forget the note detailing the said mouse.

Picking the only empty feeder off the tree I notice how dusty it looks and glance inside at the cobwebby sides. Lifting the top off I wonder if Puss Cat will be long as I didn't see her at all yesterday and don't feel like going another day without spotting her . Its brilliant sunshine and I reckon she is out here lounging somewhere but there is a faint niggle of anxiety tickling at my innards. As I lift the feeder down and raise the plastic jug to fill I glance in and There ! At the bottom , looking up , all eyes and crooked cobweb legs is a tiny yet hugely thin all at once mouse staring back at me . Mm I think . Mouse! Put it down before it is up your non existent sleeves! I gingerley place the feeder on the ground and as I do the mouse whooshes up like a firework and up the tree under which we are standing .

My heart is racing . I am proud that I have not dropped it . Proud that it did not wind up somewhere about my person , dressed as I am in vest top with spaghetti straps and cut off trousers. Bare legs bare arms and chest with altogether too much room for manouvre!

And the note from S did inform me that she had seen the inhabitant mouse sitting eating inside the feeder, though she did not mention that this took place whilst she was trying to fill it .

And as I head back to the house there curled up like a snake is the lady of the house , fast asleep , uninterested in mice except in her dreams.

Her sister clambers out onto the fish pond pointing out that the tree stump has dried out over night and that my responsibility it is to bring a kettle full of water to replenish for her drinking pool . What can I do but acquiesce and then sit while watching the life of the garden as the morning purrs and buzzes on ?

The Excitement .. Lindow Man

Lindow Man is at the Great North Museum , currently "on loan" from the British Museum Lindow Man: Body of Evidence - What's on - Great North Museum • Tyne & Wear Mu. from Saturday this week . I want to pop in immediately such is my excitement but remember that I will be picking Nat up from her latest camping trip out in the wilds (ie.at the farm). I start a holiday Things to Do List ( I am turning into my sister) with Lindow Man at the top and a gap before Clear out Car and Clear out Sitting Rooms and try to ignore the fact that if they were higher on the list I would not indeed be arranging Excursions to Lindow Man or anywhere . It is after all not as if I have a year off , just three weeks .
Car clearing out is less crucial perhaps then sitting rooms . The carpets are due to arrive the second week in August which is the first week of my holiday . And in my experience carpets cannot usually be laid without old ones being lifted and removed which usually involves the removal also of furniture and other assorted debris from room. Hm.
As regards car , new car has been ordered , after much prevarication and staring into space and dreaming about Fiat 500s and concluding that though zooming across the piazza in a truncated helicopter sans chopper is the thing in Italy , in Tyneside , especially for the fifty something woman with tall greyhound, this is actually a step too far . So , a nice little C1 is on its way , allegedly , though I have yet to see any paperwork , but new cars being like gold dust and very hard for anyone to obtain it could be weeks before my old car boot will need clearing . One thing for sure ... haha , the contents will not fit into the new one ! In fact , debatable whether any of us will fit into the new one. But at least we will be Green and we will pay £35 per year road tax and the insurance costs will be very low and that orange engine management light will not be on as I drive up the A19 ( some assumptive thinking going on here but that never hurt ) and Best of All , Nat will be able to plug in her Ipod to the dashboard and fight with me about who gets to listen to what music . And fight she will since for the first time in my life I will be looking at the CD player and thinking Wow , look at that ... and then , hang on .. I dont have any CD s to play on it . So maybe as usual she will win after all ?

Tragedy and Disaster

Last night as we drove home from yes yet another car dealership we drove along the sea front at Whitley Bay . The roar of the police and then air sea rescue helicopters caught our attention and the promenade was strung out with people gazing out to sea as the helicopters hovered over the waves . As we drove slowly along we could sea the lifeboat arriving and a series of jet-skis appearing from all directions . The helicopters looked like they were searching for something rather than rescuing .
Within an hour my sister and I were walking the dog round the headland and as we approached the sea front at Tynemouth the helicopter was still out , searching . Two young men in green jackets told us a swimmer was missing but the helicopter search was about to be called off " One has been rescused but we dont think the other one is coming back now " . BBC NEWS England Tyne Search for swimmer missing at sea
This morning the news is that the body of the second swimmer has been washed ashore .


The second story of the day is of a rescue at Holy Island . A car has attempted the crossing after it is no longer safe to do so . BBC NEWS England Tyne Tidal tourists mystify islanders. How scary to be stranded like this ?

Breakfast

... thanks to Auntie Laura's rescue hens , and now she has two new Rhode Island chicks brought home from school in a shoe box after some negotiation between herself and Mr Porteous who one assumes manages the school farm . I haven't yet seen the new babies but have heard delightful descriptions of them backing away in horror from a butterfly and cheeping happily in the old guinea pig quarters where they will stay until they reach sufficient majority to withstand the pressures of life with the Big Girls , and can be moved in with Joan and Co .

Meanwhile life continue here . The washing machine started smoking last night , as Pearl sat contentedly in front of it breathing in the smoke and ignoring the vibrations . Her deafness must be an asset at times .

I continue to email my friend on an hourly basis as we compare the merits of the various little green cars , with nothing much happening on that front . I feel sad saying goodbye to my old car is the problem . It has seen me through five years with many changes . The end of an era . I need to move on , but .... while that orange light is not flashing I am hanging on .