Monthly Archives: January 2011

I’m memetastic!

My friend Wendy over at Herding Cats in Hammond River has honoured me with a Memetastic award, conceived by Jillsmo at Yeah, Good times!

I’m such a smartarse, I already knew what a meme was, and who conceived the notion of memes. Personally, I like accidentally simultaneous memes myself. Just to add to my smart-alec-ness.

Anyway, there are several rules and then you have to pass it on. I shall do my best to pass it on, but I think I read a lot of the same stuff that Wendy does, so our links might be similar!

he rules for accepting The Memetastic Award are as follows:

1. You must proudly display the “absolutely disgusting graphic” (her words) that Jillsmo created in your post [check].

2. You must list 5 things about yourself, and 4 of them must be bold-faced lies (I can totally do that…it will be fun!).

3. You must pass this award on to 5 bloggers that you either like or don’t like or don’t really have much of an opinion about.  I’ve decided to pick on pass it on to bloggers I haven’t previously spread lies good words about.

4. If you FAIL to follow Rules #1-3, Jillsmo will become the stalker from hell (or something to that effect)…I’m not tempting fate on that one!

5. Once you’re finished, please link your celebratory post back to The Memetastic Hop, so Jillsmo can see how far her diabolical scheme has gone.

I am unfortunately not so good at bold-faced lies about myself on account of there are few things I haven’t done… Meh. I am too adventurous and talented big-headed for my own good.

Anyway… here are mine:

1. I liberated Caen with my sister. We were employed by the midget branch of the Maquis and sent down to Caen to free it from Nazi occupation. Che Guevara studied my memoires on the subject and used it as inspiration for his life’s work. He asked to meet me, but I was deep behind the Iron Curtain at that point and I couldn’t get out from deep cover. In Cuba, there is a revolutionary song about me and Celia Sanchez.

2. I played the original Wonder Woman.

3. For some time, I went out with Dave Mustaine from Megadeth, until Axl Rose started causing complications by dragging up the past. There’s nothing that Dave can’t stand other than other ginger rockers making drama for him. P.S. Dave’s curtains don’t match the carpet, if you know what I mean.

4. I was going to write “my father is a serial killer and kept me locked in the basement until I was 18, but that doesn’t fit with the Caen story, so make up your own lie on my behalf about this early picture.

Instead, I am going for the line that my mother and I wore identical outfits until I was 23. That should do it.

5. I once mooned (potentially) 29,000,000 people from the top of Roppongi Hills Tower in Japan. It’s not often you get an opportunity to bare your behind to an entire city. I don’t have a picture of this, but that doesn’t mean it’s not true or it didn’t happen. My friend Lynne will vouch for me.

I’m going to pass this on to:

1. Izziedarling

2. Cindi

I’m not adding any more because I’m sensitive about people who probably had it already or who will be meme-overdosed!!

The New Dickie Bird

In Bury, Steve lived on Chaffinch Drive, next to Goldfinch Drive on the salubrious ‘Dickie Bird’ estate. It is rough as anything on that estate and I can’t say I’m not glad we aren’t there any more. Not a day would go by without some drama and it seemed the police and various ambulances were on constant drive-by. I can’t count the nights we were woken up by pissheads arguing in the street. Jake had several bikes stolen, even though we kept them inside, and it was generally assumed that if it wasn’t nailed down, it was anybody’s. That said, Marie, his next-door neighbour, is a stellar individual, although I don’t miss her coughing in the night or baying “Monty!” at her dog.

Here, we have real chaffinches and other finches – which makes compulsive viewing. I’m up to about 5€ of bird seed a week right now, and it’s worth every penny. We have flocks of visitors each day, from the usual to those I’d never seen before. We have lots of blue and great tits, and there are lots of sparrows, as you’d expect. We had a few chaffinches, a couple of robins – who fought viciously about whose right it was to eat the seed, wood pigeons and collared doves.

In recent days, however, we have had some less usual visitors – ones I’d never seen before, although the bird guide I have assures me that they aren’t rare.

Like this greenfinch and these goldfinches

They’re all getting braver and braver, coming closer and closer to the window, although they’re not very good at coming close enough for a good picture, and they’re certainly not tame enough to come traipsing in like Steve’s mum’s blackbird friend! I tried to follow in her footsteps and chopped up some raisins and cranberries but the birds threw them on the floor to get the sunflower seeds.

Jake and I saw a partridge trotting along the road the other week as we were coming back from school – wasn’t sure what it was at first since it didn’t seem to want to fly and was not big enough to be a grouse, but a little research gave its game away.

We also had three herons in the cow field over the road last week – they’re quite regular visitors too, but it was nothing like the flock of egrets – now that was something else!! Between the buzzards and the hen harriers, the kestrels and the other predators, we’ve got a full complement of great free-to-view entertainment. I’d say it’s just about as interesting as Criminal Minds, but without the serial killers. Well, maybe, if you count the birds of prey…

At this point, I confess I am not that new to bird watching, having become addicted to it in the pantanal in Brazil, where I acquired the nickname ‘chachalaca’ – which I thought was a cute little bird until I realised it is an incredibly noisy and boisterous little thing. You never really ‘see’ it, but you can definitely hear it. Meh. Like I care about being nicknamed for a plain little noisy bird.

If you want to hear my sponsor, click here and press play!

More design-y stuff I love

I’ve finished my last piece of knitting and I’m now knitting a poncho. I’d kind of got a plan in mind, but it hasn’t worked out very well on account of I’m terrible at remembering which lines I’ve knitted and which I’ve purled. Nonetheless, it’s not important. I’m knitting a spring poncho/early autumn poncho on account of thinking this cold, cold weather will have gone away by the time I’ve done it. I’m doing 6 squares knitted together into blocks for each one – I’m reckoning on a month’s worth of knitting. Oh là là!

Despite sitting in a half-finished front room, I’ve got bigger ideas on-going. I love-Love-LOVE this website and the photographs of sky. Wow!

Laura Konttinen via Please Sir


Why oh why…

Did I want two more dogs??

I might as well have Dog Slave and Boy Slave written on me in permanence. I do nothing but pander to the whims of the various animals from dawn to dusk.

First is Moll waking me up by wanting to get under the covers and then get out again. Because I’m blanketed up, she’s got three to get under or out of. Thus, I have to be fully awake to unwrap and re-wrap her. This is Steve’s fault for letting her sleep in the bed. Now she’s entitled.

Second is navigating cat shit. Basil no longer wants to go outside on account of the other dogs and so he’s back on litter box duty. However, he misses. Today he shat in my last box of card from The Card Factory.

Third is navigating Tilly’s ‘girlie accidents’ (according to the ad about her from her previous owners – actually, completely un-housetrained… hmmmm)  and mopping up before letting them all out, having safely secured Basil in a dog-free eating environment so that he can eat his precious cat food in peace without being molested by Saffy or Tilly. Molly wouldn’t dare, but Saffy and Tilly are greedy and their eyes are bigger than their consciences or fear of punishment.

Then comes petting Tilly after she’s weed and congratulating her on weeing outside or doing a big shit. I’m going to start congratulating everyone for shitting where they should. I might stand near my brother and go “Good Aim!” when he gets it in the bowl.

Following this, I have to then retrieve Basil from his cold dog-free buffet and settle the dogs down again.

Mostly, things are fairly calm until I need to go out. It’s not so much the going out that’s the problem, it’s the coming back. Tilly sits on the back of the settee so she can look through the window, which is very cute and thus I am heart-broken upon leaving. Then when I get back, I have not to greet Tilly until she’s weed, and fuss Saffy who barks until you do and pet Molly who I like fussing when I come back because she doesn’t wee or bark. Then they rifle through my bags.

I then have to have three dogs underfoot in the kitchen until I send them all packing. I do a good line in ‘Out! Out!’ until they all disappear, before sneaking back in. Then the whole rigmarole again.

Tilly, not being house-trained, likes to sit near the door knowing full well whenever she does we’ll let her out. Then Saffy follows her, not wanting to miss anything. Tilly used to go out to drink – both dogs are compulsive drinkers, because they’re so used to it and doing it out of boredom. Tilly goes outside to drink from the laundry basket and then comes in and wees in Jake’s room or the dining room, or the kitchen, or some other place I’ve yet to find and I mop again. Saffy barks every time she goes outside because she’s so excited to be outside and nobody has ever told her not to. So if they go out, I have to follow – firstly to inspect peeing and nervous drinking – and secondly to stop the barking and chicken chasing.

Molly also has got into the habit of sitting in Steve’s chair, behind him. The chair isn’t big enough for both of them, so Steve usually falls off the edge as Molly shoves her way in. Tilly sits near the door desperate for some extra water or a sniff at some cat food. Saffy, thankfully, is sleeping.

This is obviously not even including the walking and the fussing and the constant attention to dog psychology.

But, I must say, I love it really.