Books

I hate finishing books . It was hard to get started with Marina Lewycka, Two Caravans though I had loved her Short history of tractors in the Ukraine , and in fact it took me two attempts in between which I switched to something else , the name and details of which escape me it being at least two weeks ago . Something by Nina Bawden I think , who writes brilliantly and whose husband was killed in a train crash not long ago . Again I should know where that took place , but again , Ive forgotten . Paddington maybe . I remember at the time being shocked that bad things happen unexpectedly and just as tragically to well known people too . I digress. I hate it when books end . Having found Two Caravans hard going for about five minutes ( when I tried starting at around midnight probably at the end of a Day Job day ) , I then re tried soon after and found it incredibly poignant , tragic and very very funny all at once . Its definitely not a good idea though if you want to continue eating chickens and conversely could be very useful indeed of you are contemplating the vegetarian lifetstyle.
I see the last few pages approaching and feel myself slowing down . It makes the long nights bearable if I know there are people there by the side of the bed whose lives I am part of in some small measure , to share them with . A friend of mine , who clearly hit the insomnia thing before I did , talked once of treasuring the extra time for reading and I am eternally grateful to her ( thanks Barbara , though I expect she will have forgotten she said it by now ) for providing this take on something which I know many people find troubling , exhausting and indeed a source of anxiety all of its own .
A point is reached as the little pile of pages decreases when it becomes inevitable and my only way to cope is to start foraging for new material , either re reading something old ( with my memory this can be very rewarding ) , ordering something from e bay or Barter Books .
So now that Two Caravnans is done , its over to Fay Weldon .( She may not leave )

The day job

So tricky to do anything at the end of a day job .Today it even starts differently . The alarm goes off and wakes me with a jump at 6 45 , which is odd as for months now I have not slept well and become accustomed to waking several times , reading to send me back to sleep at four am , five am , and sometimes 6 . But in the last few nights Ive been sleeping heavily and waking at alarm time feeling confused and unclear about whether getting out of bed is such a good idea . Usually I'm raring to go ( admittedly often due to boredom and that " might as well get on with the day " feeling when sleep is elusive .I try to post two photos from yesterday and though the blog reports success the blogs fail to appear ( though I manage to get them in the right place later ) .I sit in a long traffic queue and ponder the week ahead .What seems like minutes later in time , but years in how I feel , I'm in the same traffic queue but reverse direction . There has to be more to life than this , arriving home knowing there are more reports to read . Roll on Wednesday evening !I want to be CatCalling , writing about things , out on my bike , not staring into space drained of energy .And shar pei s look like nice little wrinkly dogs .... any advice ?

The walls of keys , yesterday, Belsay Hall

Each of the keys has a separate brown label with script in copperplate describing which room or area the key relates to . The labels themselves are fasinating , the topiary garden , the women's room , the loud room , the dirt room , the boot room and the coffin room ( the coffin room ? How many houses have a separate room for coffins ?)

Making beds

Toby in a pile of bedlinen as the beds are changed .

Plug holes , pugs and a picnic

Our plan for the day once the usual bike ride has been discounted due to two flat tyres and the wrong valve for the pump for one of the bikes ,is a relaxing morning followed by another day at the Art at Belsay Hall .

We meet at the picnic tables at one and I explain to anyone who will listen about my bilious attack shortly before departure due to a bad smell in the house . This is to do with a Drain Problem which becomes obvious when I step out of the shower and smell bad eggs . I start to explain that although the smell is downstairs and near the back door , I know the problem links to the upstairs drainage system due to a former bad smell in the bath plug area upstairs . Sitting at the picnic tables and passing food extensively between the six of us , my sister queries how I can be so sure and I say "When it happened last time and I sniffed the bath plug hole .....

" Sniffing the plug hole , as you do " , she quips , waving a pork pie in my general direction and we are convulsed with silly giggles .

A family at the table behind us looks on benignly and smiles at our hilarity .

One of the rooms at Belsay has old keys attached to all four walls , hundreds of them all relating to doors around the house and estate . The one above is for " the loud room " .

I have become so obsessed with the possibility of a pug that I imagine I see them at every turn .

Rather in the way of a bereaved person who sees the departed one in ghostly form in unlikely places ( I myself saw my grandfather near the airing cupboard , not a place I could envisage him much in real life ).

Later , after the Art but before the walk in the threatening rain to the castle , as we have tea in the Marquee , L sets herself the task of choosing the perfect puppy for us . The Hexham Courant advertises only farming type dogs eg collies and of course weaner piglets , ferrets , and cockerals . She is keen to promote the Jack Russel terrier but I am not keen , feeling that a terrier would be poorly tolerated by the cats .

" You need something with wrinkles " she announces confidently, and I know what she means , though her suggestion of a Boston terrier is also rejected on the grounds that they are too manic for our household , and that when coupled with the guinea pigs on a loud day , and the cats , and the Teen music , and D s music , it would not do and what we really need is a calming influence . I am thinking shar pei at this point and resolve to investigate them on Epupz. We are talking serious wrinkles here .

pug puppy

Spent hours on google and epupz yesterday trying to find a Suitable Dog . Laura reckons I should try for a smooth terrier and D ( sportingly , given his qualms ) came home with a dog magazine from the supermarket ( he likes dogs but frets that it too will want to sit on his desk and rest the head on the keyboard . I personally fear it may make heavier demands than even he has considered , but it would not be wise for me to rehearse them here ) .
It feels unfair not to give due consideration to the possibility of a pug , given it was N who wanted the puppy in the first place , but I worry about the fact that " the flat faced dog does not cope well in the heat " , and mentions of cleaning its sweaty folds leave me with many questions .
My mind wanders to a pug cross and I look at photos of pugs crossed with beagles ( puggles ) , with king charles spaniels ( pugaliers) , with shih tzus ( there was a name but it escapes me ) which look the most appealing to me , fluffy rather than butch . They all cost loads of money and are situated counties away .
Any suggestions from anyone out there ? I confess I'm stuck .

PS . I myself would like a long haired minature dachsund but when we talked ( in hushed tones , whilst waiting in the posh seats in Bravissimo , N said dismissively , we cant have one of those , theyre too long . )

Morning Pearl

Camera unusually situated near the bed so I catch Pearl resting on the chest after the morning door opening ceremony which preceedes Guinea Pig Breakfast and Cat Swarming in the kitchen .

I find Jessie pawing distractedly at the floor and closer inspection reveals a dollop of something unmentionable which has failed to drop in the litter tray and which she is determined to cover up somehow by pawing at the wood . I deal with that then skid in my bare feet across a wet patch near the doorway . ?? Time for more furr ball treatment, possibly .

Fortunately my stomach is strong and I take a tray back to bed laden with strong coffee , wholemeal bran crackers and nectarine , which I later lean into with my newly acquired robe thus completing its initiation into what passes for life in this house in this place . Having economised successfully for several weeks now in preparation for the reduction in Day Job hours , the arrival of the Prosecution notice led me to a feeling that a purchase was coming on and as N and I had to take ourselves to Bravissimo again ( her this time , not me ) , I dived into M and S whilst she was in La Senza ( says it all really ) . The purchase of such an item is of considerable importance to me , more so than that of Proper Clothes since I spend great tracts of time Sloping Around thus attired . But since my choosing time was limited it felt like something of a rush purchase and as I emerged last night from the bathroom , N stared at me aghast , taking me by the hand and leading me into her room where her friend P was lounging palely on the bed ( the two of them having partied until 4 am the night before ) , Look she said do you think my mum looks like a really posh bathroom or what ?

What ? said P .

What do you mean ? I said I am a really posh bathroom . And left before further comment ensued .