Day Trip to Holy Island

Yesterday was Day Trip to Holy Island day , complete with grehound slipping all over the back seat at we took the coastal route which is supposed to be enjoyed at a leisurely pace . Thanks however to a slightly tardy start and a CatCall en route , and said greyhound needing comfort breaks halfway there , the second part of the journey was somewhat faster than the first an d involved much sighing on her part as she gritted her teeth and tried to cling to her beanie seat , and much tutting on my part ( nerves and irritation at the thought of missing the tides ) . Last time for crossing the causeway to the island was flagged on the tide tables as 12 noon . At 12 noon we were still ( allegedly) half an hour's drive away , albeit hurtling round country lanes , with D telling me there was no issue and we would make it . I had visions of the car floating away on the tide and me and him clinging to Alice ( pained expression no doubt ) in the escape- box-on-a-stick .

However , as is often the case in such matters , he was quite right and we made it indeed with half an hour to spare ( pah! Tide tables ! ) and we had to wait to see the water lapping across the road behind us ( I like to frighten myself after the event ....... ) meaning we were truly trapped on an island for five whole hours . Or indeed , four whole hours given the tide tables were wrong .

And the sun shone for us and we found some crinoids on the beach

crinoids st cuthberts beads - Google Image Search and Alice met some little girls from Falkirk in Scotland who were very taken with her , and we met an American man who was staying for two nights and was very taken with our search for the crinoids ( fascinated by our sitting hunched over the sand sifting through patiently till we find a tiny fossilized shell ) and we walked by the lobster pots and the sheep and lambs and coffee shops and ate a picnic entirely composed of carbohydrates as someone forgot to pack the protein .

Leaving at the last minute we drove through the water splashing across the causeway ( argh ! ) heading for a final walk on the rocks at Bamburgh where we found a painting of a deer on the rocks and then Seahouses for fish and chips .

A plan which has been fermenting for some time bubbled along a little further . We have a week in July when Nat is away in France and rather than fly somwhere for a week ourselves which was the plan , we consider hiring a camper van and taking off with Alice for some kind of adventure . Having owned such a camper van in the past , when Nat was a tiny baby , I know many of the pitfalls . It is however long enough ago that I have forgotten most of them , and remember instead the delights of the freedom to go where you chose , to pack up on a whim , to have everything with you and within reach at all times . The picnics in the van , the little meals cooked on the stove , sliding the doors across and having a barbecue just at the back door , the hot sunshine always there ( what ? Am I deluded ? Most of my old photos show driving rain and me holding a baby in the front seat whilst reading a newspaper .....the baby is always smiling but she was that kind of baby ) ... I could go on ....the plan is evolving as I said .

Needless to say Alice slept in again this morning ....

Comfort

Alice is happy . Completely wrapped in between two layers of a duvet , just her toes sticking out . Once in this position it takes a lot to shift her .

Love Hearts or External Male Genitalia -You Decide.

Toby our Birman boy ( albeit looking more like a Ragdoll as he has the Wrong Paws ) helping fold the laundry .

Some debate as to whether the design on the duvet looks more like love hearts or external male genitalia . I say hearts , what do you think ? You may need to click on the picture for a closer look . Of course you may not wish to !

Barter Books

Yesterday was a Barter Books day Barter Books - One of the largest second hand book shops in Europe. and involved , after a brilliantly warm and sunny walk on the beach ( to tire out the greyhound ) , a drive to Alnwick crissong ( or crossing ) country to pick up a mother and a flask of coffee , an altercation with a SatNav , several false starts , a conversation with a greyhound loving window cleaner (whose partner sadly didn't feel the same) about how easy it is to settle a rescue dog into the family ( it is the work of minutes, nay seconds if you don't count the odd puddles ), the jubilant production of the disabled badge allowing us to park car and dog right outside the station which houses the bookshop thus enabling us to keep an eye on Alice who sat upright keeping one eye and one ear on us during the hour we perused the collection of second hand books . The old station is amazing . Its not new to me but there are always new books and as you step inside the smell of old paper is wonderful . A model train is set up above eye level and chugs past from time to time adding a quirkiness to the place . The old fashioned waiting rooms are still intact offering space to sit and peruse the books , music , dvds and magazines , and at the front is an open fire with a coffee pot percolating away with home made biscuits on offer . The leather sofas are popular and occasionally house a dozing " reader " , and sometimes the genuine article . Most people are avidly searching the shelves however, an air of excitement and buzz rarely felt in a bookshop . Here there are genuine bargains and real finds to be had , first editions in mint condition , ancient books of poems and all manner of droppping to pieces cookery books full of old fashioned recipes from yesteryear . There is something for everyone .

We finally leave with an assortment of goodies and Alice has a lollop on the lawn to the side .
At my parents house she then chases the cat up the tree in the garden and falls into the pond. Satisfied with her day , she falls asleep exhausted in the back of the car and snores till we arrive home an hour later .

Having missed her afternoon sleep tells on her and she sleeps in this morning .... I miss my morning wake up call at 6 am and D has to wake her at seven thirty ... bliss ..... !

Semi naked man in freezing temperatures

Click on the photo . Trust me ... I couldn't resist posting this picture of our local runner who strips off most days come rain hail or shine .....fit as a fiddle but probably in his eighties ?
The ironic thing ... I was photographing from the top of the cliffs as we had just come up off the beach , and so couldn't capture the Boot Camp crowd just to the left in the same shot , but they were fully dressed in sports gear with sleeves and legs covered , and were all probably in their twenties .

Aphasia ?

Fascinating article about aphasia in Times2 this morning I wanted to say "I've had a stroke" because of the aphasia I couldn't - Times , striking a particular chord for me as someone usually articulate who loses words throughout the day thanks to the side effects of epilepsy drugs and as the evening wears on becomes increasingly inarticulate until at around ten pm it all goes pear shaped .

My intellect intact , I am completely aware that I am not making sense , but also inable ( inable ? unable surely ...) to put this right and so at around this time I usually get off the floor so to speak and depart the social areas of the house , heading for bed and the cats who tend not to notice .

Last night was a case in point . My 14 year old daughter , possibly aware that she was going away for a few days , had brought down a dvd ( Titanic ) for us all to watch together , but by ten thirty I was laregly incoherent .
Keeping quiet , reading the paper , e mailing , one eye on the tv I can just about manage though I also find sitting still very difficult . I stand and try to interact with Jessie . Talking to cats is simple , even for me after the ten pm watershed , as it involves nothing more than muttered endearments , Puss , Poppet and the like .....I then catch sight of Alice the greyhound and head over to sit near her but make the first mistake , calling her Puss .As the word pops out , clearly I know its wrong but there is no way I can rectify it fast enough . So begins a monologue .....
Puss ..... Puss ... oh no not Puss , you're not a Puss , you're that other Business ( for some reason the word Business is one which features a lot for me )......
at which point I catch sight of D's mouth twitching slightly at me calling Alice "that other Business ".
Alice merely sighs as greyhounds do and shifts to lean more heavily on me , happy at any and all attention .
Jess the bravest of the cats then climbs gingerly up onto the sofa to inspect the dog more closely than she ever has and I desperately want to draw attention to this , but I can find no words , other than Look at this business ...... Nat raises her eyebrows slightly but is so used to me she says nothing .

Soon afterwards I retire for the night , completely past my verbal sell by date .

I read for a while , with a clump of cats surrounding me . They expect no conversation , something of a relief .
D informs me this morning that he came up soon after , and I appeared to have fallen asleep reading . He asked if I was ok . NO . I said firmly and somewhat crossly . Oh , What's the matter , he asked , solicitously . I CAN'T REMEMBER . I grumble and am asleep again .

Air lock in the water bed again

We have an airlock .
Its a complete mystery to me how a water bed can fill up with air not three weeks since we last " bled" the air out of it and filled it full of hot water again .
And what a carry on that proved to be ....The hose has to be dragged up from the yard ( cleaned first ) , the nozzle attachement located next ( a half day job , not mine I hasten to add ) , the bed itself stripped , and wait for it , the cats removed ( and kept out of the room , no mean feat when a hose has to run from bedroom to bathroom along the upper landing ).
I remember it well .
I had a funny feeling about that event and sat it out downstairs until my presence was requested .
By the time I was called up D was hopping from room to room as cats watched in fury at being ousted from the warmth of their own personal heated bed , trying to gain entry each time he opened the door .
The bathroom was in a state of some disarray , the basin taps having a hose attachment in their general vicinity , applied with the aid of several elastic bands ( post office issue ) and squirting water up the mosaic mirrors , across the " I can see myself in the roll top bath if I wish to mirror " in a generous fountain , anywhere in fact but down the hose and along the pipe and into the water bed outlet . The Ikea bathmat was drenched and several of the towels had seen better days .

I survey the scene and remind him the taps configuration didn't look like this last time . ( talk about stating the bleedin' obvious )

Suffice to say after a certain amount of pressure is applied to the taps and attachments ( rather than my neck ) the problem is remedied and a vast quantity of hot water is relayed to the bed . Always a tricky moment working out whether the hose will deliver the water onto or into the mattress ....... ?? By now all attempts to keep cats out is at an end and there is an audience of four ..... cute faces with whiskers all watching intently , the ocasional squabble breaking out over who gets closest to the action .
An equally large amount of air is pumped out .

And with this in mind I find it hard to understand where this new air has arrived from , though I have my theories , relating to nocturnal male flatulence , which are heartily rejected .

It is the cougar all over again .
When travelling to Kirkharle in search of Kendal Mint Cake for Amelia , my stepdaughter,
this afternoon a creature stepped onto the road and I became convinced it was a cougar ( or a lynx possibly ) but D simply gave me a suspicious glance when I mentioned this . He often does not know how to take me . I suppose it could have been a rabbit .

Flatulence aside however , male , female or feline , it is a mystery how a bed which was completely bled of air suddenly fills up again and sprouts visible rugby balls at various points , causing the bed to splosh alarmingly during the night even when a small cat lands or takes off .

No wonder my dreams are so full of this and that and even in my waking hours I can honestly say nothing seems to make much sense .
Maybe I have an air lock in my brain ?