On Being Blessed

I haven't written much lately because I've been a bit down - I don't like being ill; I don't like being old; I don't like not being able to see clearly; I don't like being four and a half hours drive away from my boys. These things, however, are sent to try us - or so I was brought up to believe: What can't be cured must be endured; stiff upper lip; put on a brave face; worse things happen at sea, and all that.

Here's a pic of an 'angel' that flew over Devon earlier this week (click to enlarge): Beautiful isn't it?



I'd like to think that someone is watching over me too but I have the feeling that, if they are, they're shaking their heads in disbelief at the moment as they watch me struggling with boxes, moving 'things' from one place to another and seemingly getting nowhere. I'd rather be in the garden where I know I can do something creative - the potatoes and onions are coming on a treat

and I've just re-potted some perennials suitable

for the shady backyard so next year could be, fingers crossed, a riot of colour. I've also made a small enclosure at the front to plant a climbing rose - Joseph's Coat, a prolific yellow/pink beauty in memory of my Mum and Dad - and some Spring bulbs (daffs, snowdrops, crocus, tulips - there are already bluebells self-seeding in the cracks) to remind me that Winter is over and a new year beckons.



I've also bought vegetable seeds, some of which need planting this month and next, latest, for harvesting in Spring along with some glorious Hollyhocks. This garden will have life returned to it if it's the last thing I do :) I tried to tempt birds into the back with a state-of-the-art BirdsRUs feeding centre but, sadly, they've resolutely refused to dine there - I must think about moving it to the front (with my veg seeds? *gulps*)

For sowing this month: Broad Bean 'Aquadulce Claudia'; Pea 'Meteor'; Spring Onion 'Performer', and Cauliflower 'Gypsy'.

I was at the docs today - just tests and checks, the results of which will be known in a couple of weeks. Next week I'm back to the hospital for further tests on my eyes. I'm already short-listed for a cataract operation (one eye only - it seems the NHS can't run to doing both) but something else is going on so fingers crossed all round. I don't like pills but if something could sort out my eyes I'd take it gladly. Suki is also mooching now that the weather has changed from sunny to thundery; he's sneezing and his eyes are runny. I guess you can take the cat out of Spain but you can't the siesta out of the cat. Here he is, doing what he does best:

Apart from that it's just politics that bothers me: all this unaccountability. Even our own Westminster MPs are only accountable once every five years and it isn't good enough; they call it democracy but I don't think it is. They talk of localism and Big Society when in actuality it's nothing more than throwing crumbs at us while the European Commission and the UN dictate the policies and member state governments couch diktats in terms they strive to make acceptable to us. I do wish my children would wake up to the threat but, living in London, they can't see the wood for the trees.

It only remains to be noted, lest we forget, that this weekend is Battle of Britain Weekend and RAF Cosford is putting on a spiffing show. Chocks away!

A Quick Update

The most important thing first: the weather has been glorious for two whole days now - it can't last.

Of the major works, P the builder only needs to install a central heating and hot water system and that work begins a week on Monday - more upheaval and more getting worse before it gets better.  When that's done it's just the little things remaining @ £140 pd.

It won't be long now though; P's done a great job so far. It's beginning to look fab and passers-by actually stop and say how lovely the house looks now it's been painted and the garden has been cleared.  I'm not sure how many have noticed that I've taken down the ugly Sky satellite dish and replaced it with a rather swish and buccaneering weathervane - which actually works.   I love it!  If I get stuck for something to do I walk out into the middle of the road, shade my eyes and cast lingering glances of admiration upwards.  If only I'd had time to attach a pirate skull and crossbones before it went up my life would be complete ;)

Suki loves it here too.  He's establishing a little routine: eat, sleep, patrol, fight, sleep, eat, patrol, fight, sleep ...  The strange thing is that although he's now made friends with the other neighbourhood cats there's one he actually goes out on the prowl for and that one is a little three-legged cat, just like him.  You'd think that being birds of a feather they'd form a bond since three-legged cats are rare as hens' teeth, rather like those who admit to being a LibDem these days.  The trouble began when Suki saw his fellow feline doing her business in the garden the night the fences blew down and he won't forget or forgive: they are sworn enemies.  She just sits there and pouts prettily before telling him what a scumbag he is and running away - I think she might wear him down in the end.

I'm making inroads into the back yard with netting fixed to the walls and clematis and honeysuckle ready for planting; the montbretia went in a couple of weeks ago and has taken very well.  I just have to fill the beds with compost where the level has dropped and, hey presto! I'll have a lovely view from the kitchen window before you know it.  At the moment it's just paint-flaking, stone-crumbling walls that once were white but are now green and fungi-ridden. I'd like to put decking out the back too: the paving is too far gone to restore and it's quite dangerous to walk on but I think a make-over will have to wait.  The flagpole is up though - St George and a Gadsden.  It was supposed to be 20ft but I lowered it to 15ft so it isn't too intrusive for the neighbours.  I don't know them well enough yet and I'm not about to give anyone a chance to call me a racist for flying the flag of my own country, not just yet.  Let me settle in first.

I haven't begun the raised beds because I just keep adding to the pile of rubbish in the front: cardboard; plastic, ripped out kitchen cupboards/worktops/kitchen sink/taps/oven/hob/satellite dish... you get the picture.  I'm having it cleared next week before a Roma family takes up residence.  If you're wondering why the neighbours don't complain it's because my new fence is 6ft high and the pile of rubbish is 5ft 11ins.

Slowly, slowly... I'll get there in the end.

Dear Diary...

Avatar Farm

Do you know that funny feeling you get?  It's the one that comes out of the blue for no reason that you can put your finger on and it settles in the centre of your chest and feels quite warm and full as it spreads up to your throat and forehead - that one.  If I had to give it a name I'd call it 'contentment' or 'love' and if I were a cat I'd be purring blissfully.

P added a terrific 'P Special' trellis today and planting is almost up-to-date so I now have six hanging baskets and eight troughs hanging off the stone walls and fencing.  Due to it being so late in the season I bought last-minute plugs or grafted plants but next year I'll be growing from seed and cuttings as usual - I'm looking forward to January 2014 when my kitchen and dining room will be filled to overflowing with seed trays and compost.

The baskets and troughs contain a mix of veg, fruit and flowers but at the moment it's mainly flowers: cascading geraniums, trailing fuchsias, tumbling tomatoes and English strawberries.  I've also planted a couple of large pots with a fig tree - donated by P - and a small bay tree.  The lilac tree has been staked to support it against the wind and it looks as though it will survive after the ivy and fungus attack.  For all that the plants aren't yet grown or in bloom the garden still looks more alive and welcoming and the birds are beginning to visit.

The Star Jasmine and the Clematis Elizabeth are doing very well in their new home, despite the fact that Suki has been caught, on numerous occasions, peeing in the Clematis - maybe it's a plant that appreciates nitrogen! Wild lilacs also grow everywhere here and they smell wonderful in the warm air. I can hardly wait for my corner of Scented Heaven Central to come into full bloom :)

I've been trying to lay out part of the raised beds but it's tricky because of the 'debris' - there won't be enough room until I've cleared it all away.  I've solved the problem of the Giulietta tomato by planting it in a large wicker hamper that once contained Christmas goodies (I knew it would come in useful one day and I've only had to hang on to it for twelve years).  I lined the hamper with weed-suppressing membrane and coco fibre before filling it with an Irish peat/organic compost/vermiculite mix.  Giulietta is a grafted Italian plum tomato so I'll stake it and love it and, once the sun begins to shine, it will repay me with a bounty of delicious tomatoes for salads and sauces.

I went to NatWest in St Marychurch today and it was what I've become accustomed to of late: 'fraud', 'fraudulent'; 'dna'; 'blood test'; 'family antecedents'...  One question I particularly liked: 'When did you first open your bank account?'  When I gave them the year, give or take a couple, I was told, 'No, what date?'  Well, I laughed my socks off and the staff - it took three of them to sort it out, including the Manager - were what I've experienced of people down here: lovely.  I just hope they recognise me next time!

The drive back was interesting - I think it was the scenic route.  Flags - Union and St George - adorned almost every building and Babbacombe Beach was very inviting. I had two useful recommendations: one for a seafront pub/restaurant called 'Angels', which I'm told does terrific food, and another for a fishmonger who gets his daily catch from the local fleets at Brixham Harbour.

It's strange here. I get the impression that, for example, our national flags would have caused more of an uproar had they been taken down for 'causing offence' rather than for having been erected in the first place.  I know I keep banging on about the difference between London and Torquay/Devon but the disconnect really is quite striking.  London is a city under siege and the fallout has yet to reach the Shires but come it will:

A barbecue weekend

Well, I did say in my last post that if Suki continued to whinge once I let him out into the front after the new fences were erected that I'd barbecue him.  The weather here is gorgeous so a barbecued drumstick that tastes 'a bit like chicken' seems appropriate, maybe with an accompaniment of a Devon tomato salad and a jacket potato with lashings of Devonshire butter.

The fences are 5ft high with no purchase for cats' claws and the stone wall is 6ft+.  He steels himself to jump almost to the top of the fence but then slides down like a cartoon cat, leaving his claw imprints on the way.  Once he worked out that he was lousy at climbing fences (three legs good, four legs better) he turned his attention to the wall.  I swear this cat, for all he was rescued in Spain, has some Yorkshire blood in him: he just won't give up.

Still, it's shown me once again what lovely neighbours I have.  Twice today, H has looked over the fence or rang the bell to let me know The Ginger Being was going walkabout and then I met A, for the first time, who proceeded to walk with me, up and down the road, calling for the flipping cat.

I say 'flipping' because the previous time I'd brought him in, courtesy of two ladies I haven't met properly yet (I like to be formally introduced y'know - Jane Austen and her dance card has nothing on me) he spotted another cat.  'He sounds very upset, poor dear'.  'Oh he is', I said, 'I'm stopping him from eating your cat for breakfast.'  Ice broken!

Being Spanish, he, Suki not A, wasn't mightily miffed in an English sort of way when I took him back into the garden, he was full-on tearing his hair out and digging holes into my arms - first time ever.  He then proceeded to attack my ankles.  Each of the savlon-smothered holes is 5-6mm in diameter - yes, I actually measured them, they're enormous gaping wounds - and I'm not a happy bunny.  I've never heard him in such a rage before. He's now sleeping next to me, curled up as if butter wouldn't melt.

No camera but the Star Jasmine (trachelospermum) (sun, part shade) is planted around the front porch, replacing the horrid ivy, and so is the Clematis Elizabeth (anywhere).  The parts of the raised beds are all laid out ready for fixing once the old fence is taken away to make room; the permeable weed membrane and newspapers are raring to go (only fit for lining cat trays and raised beds after all), and the easy-to-mix concrete (just add water) is ready to re-build the small stone retaining walls.  If only I were 'raring to go' too.

More boxes have been opened and more pictures and mirrors found; the huge sideboard is finally up on the landing and super-sized Flaming June (Leighton) has taken her place at the top of the stairs; most of the curtain rails are up now and the material and cord/piping has arrived so I can re-cover the seat of the old Lloyd Loom chair for the bathroom and finally put curtains up at the windows.

So, I'm not short of things to do but, my word, it's hard work and Suki, as you'll have gathered by now, is neither use nor ornament.  Well, actually, he is of some use: he curls up at night around my knees and keeps me warm so perhaps I should have second thoughts about barbecuing his remaining hind leg.  His vocal chords though, they're another matter ... ...

Work begins on the kitchen next week so, all being well, it will finally be up and running and ready for cooking at last and the stuff for the kitchen that replaced the stuff for the garden will be replaced by the stuff for the dining room in the hallway.  Then, to the Bank to get some cash.  Wish me luck!

Royston Robertson


PS I've just thought: now that you all know my cat's name I'd better change all my security passwords.

Hallelujah!

This must be incredibly boring for you but, for me, it's a reality survival show sponsored by Skating on Thin Ice courtesy of Idiot Productions. Who will win? Will it be me or the house?

I've been assured by the company that the fencing panels will finally be delivered next Wednesday. I'm here, ready and waiting with my paint - Cuprinol Wild Thyme since you ask - and my brush. I'll finally be able to leave the front door open and let The Whingeing One out into the front garden and if he continues to whinge after all that, well, I may just barbecue him*.

There's been more unpacking, more taking stock of what needs to be done and a long list of 'finishing' jobs to be done next week. I'm wishing now that I hadn't told P, the builder, that that's all there was because every time I walk round or unpack I find more things that I can't do or are too heavy to hang on these walls without industrial strength fixings and macho-man tools. My tool-box is pink.

Once the fences are up I'll be able to concentrate on building the raised beds and pretend that all is well - I love gardening. Getting to grips with late-Summer veg will take my mind off the leaking pipes/gutters, the central heating, the tanking, the exterior paintwork and all the other structural work that's needed. Gardening, growing something from seed, nurturing and planting out then finally picking, eating, cooking, sharing, freezing, pickling any surplus is the best thing ever. I always feel better when my fingers are in the earth and my feet are scrunching grass.

There's still no sign of the camera and I see no point in continuing here unless I find it soon since photographic details of progress and step-by-step guides were the thinking behind the blog in the first place. It's pretty much like tumble-weed over here anyway.

Be warned - I bought a 'garden thermometer' on Ebay - nice and big and cheap.  It's rubbish - 10p made in China, probably.  According to the scale at the moment it's anything between 13 and 23 degrees C or 32 if I put my finger on it because the tube containing the mercury is moveable.  Aaatishoo - bless you! It's 13.

*  Don't fret - I haven't yet fathomed out how to put it together.   Goddam these exploded views!

Once Upon A Time...

... a Princess was cast out. She had to leave her home, never to return, and move to a foreign Kingdom.  There was a wonderful castle waiting for her in a distant County and her belongings were finally delivered one sunny February morning.

Alas and lack-a-day, the castle had been overcome by the Black Plague: the mould that wounds or kills everyone in its path when it enters their lungs.  Nevertheless, she and her courtiers soldiered on until, eventually, the new home was almost fit for a Princess.

Alas and lack-a-day, the Princess soon discovered that the hot water didn't work; the heating didn't work; water pipes leaked into the bathroom from the lofty awesomeness of the attics above and, each time the Princess bathed or had a shower, floods of soapy, scented water would cascade from the old iron downpipes to the exterior windows, splashing pretty patterns on its descent.

Alas and lack-a-day, the grumpy old King didn't keep his part of the bargain to pay for structural faults so the Princess had to lump it and do the best she could but she shivered while the structure of the house continued to deteriorate around her.

Alas and lack-a-day, the mystical three-legged ginger cat, Suki, developed a cold.  With sneezes, runny eyes and plaintive mewling the Being was only silent when he knew, in his cat's eye, where the Princess was.  He was constantly at her side, whether she was in the bathroom, the kitchen, the bedroom, the living room or the back yard, he was always watching, sneezing or prostrating himself at her feet at the top of the palatial staircase or whilst she was carrying a heavy tray back to the kitchen.

The Princess erected the name-plate for the Castle so the Postie could know where to find her, more curtainings were fitted and the centuries-old growth of convolvulus and ivy was sprayed with Weedol. It did, however, rain shortly afterwards and whether our Sleeping Beauty within will awake remains a moot point.

The story continues.

Alas and lack-a-day:

Get The Barbie Out!

 Out of the box, that is.  It arrived this morning and I was hoping for sunny skies this evening but, alas, it is not to be.  I did consider striking it up, donning my quilted gardening jacket and Peruvian ear-warmers and sitting out there in the overcast, rainy and windy garden as I bravely defied the elements and common sense but I caved in to comfort.  I think I have to face facts: I'd be no good in a yurt.

The problem really is that I've been here since the 2nd but only yesterday did I come across something that cooked hot food - an electric plug-in grill that provided a welcome bacon sandwich.  Any port in a storm!  The cooker here is broken and my replacement won't be delivered until Thursday - and even then it won't be up and working because the chap who's fitting the new kitchen isn't free until next week.  He thinks he's coming to put up a new fence but, oh boy, do I have news for him!  I'm starving!  I wouldn't mind if living on crispbread and tuna fish or sardines had lost me a pound or two but there's no discernible difference so I'm hankering for a hot meal and lots of chocolate.

I wish I could find my camera so I could upload photos for you but I can't find it. The place is in such a state with  boxes piled so high that I need serious, rugby-league help to lift them.  I've learned a lesson since I spent the first week in pain after continuing to heave and carry boxes from room to room after the first warning signals - now, if I get a twinge, that's it for the day.  I am, however, making progress and I'm delighted but my bank manager is not because in my case 'making progress' is a synonym for spending tons of cash.

The gardens, such as they are, are lifeless and devoid of wildlife - it's very sad.  One of the first things I bought was a bird feeding station - a black twirly thing with lots of hooks that looks as if it might be suited to supporting a politician or two but, in reality, wouldn't take their weight.  I erected it at the back and waited eagerly for word to get round that there was a new 5* restaurant in town - 'FatBallsRUs'.  Hmmm... Not a tweet, not a twitter, not a cheep; nothing except one woodlouse swimming for his life in the birds' drinking water.  I may have to reconsider siting it.

The other big job I've begun, but can't finish because it almost finished me, is digging out the overgrown shrubbery and ivy that has all but murdered light and space in the front garden.  I'm hoping that my intervention has rescued the lilac tree that was infected by a fungus and from which the ivy was greedily sapping life.  There are three or four good suckers that I can cultivate but it will take a year or two until they reach full height.  I love lilacs.

It's a shame I haven't stumbled across my camera yet: it would have been nice to show you a photo of my fingernails - a sort of 'before' and 'after'.  Now you'll just have to take my word for it that they were, a few short weeks ago, long, painted and elegant. I decided to buy raised beds rather than have them made and they arrive later this week/early next together with 1800 litres of compost/peat/vermiculite/water granules/tomorite/hanging baskets and so on and so on.  By the time I've finished all this, what nails I once had will be a distant memory and the only ones of which I'll have any knowledge will be the masonry type.

Suki says 'miaow' and sends the latest pics of himself - the first is of him setting paw into the open air for the first time in two years and the second is after wearing himself out chasing woodlice and slugs around the ground floor: he's so disorientated now that he follows me around more than ever - he's even taken to sitting on the bathroom chair while I bathe, which I find slightly surreal and rather spooky to be honest.

I'm sorry the post is a bit long and rambling but so much has happened that it's difficult to be concise.  Think yourselves lucky that I haven't mentioned my lovely postie with the smiley face and the glorious Devon accent.  I'm not too keen on the bin-men though: they didn't take last week's bin which was bequeathed to me, full of smelly rubbish, by the previous owners.  I haven't got to grips with recycling down here yet either- it's different everywhere you go.  And that reminds me, I must let the Council know I'm here... and the gas... and the electricity...and the water...