It's been blustery and rainy today...the few remaining plums have been blown off the tree and one of the compost bins ended up in the ditch...again. My cats were walking round the garden with their paws clamped over their heads 'cos of falling debris and all Kittys sheep had a funny turn and were racing about kicking up their heels and baaing fit to burst...I say 'all' there's only a dozen or so...pretty ones, with black faces and vacant expressions.
Eilis took one look at the weather at six o'clock this morning when everyone else went off for their walk and snuggled back on the bed...it was pitch dark and blowing a gale and I privately thought...and not for the first time...that Himself is quite potty to go out roaming round the bog on such a morning...
P.J.....he's a lovely man altogether so he is...he's seen Pine Martens down our street! Imagine! I haven't even seen an Otter yet though other people have...Mink and Foxes don't count...everybodys seen them. He asked Himself yesterday had we heard the Pine Martens and so I found a recording on the net and it beats the vixen fox barking into a top hat...horribly eerie and creepy. Mind you, I haven't heard the little vixens yet...they let off a blood curdling scream at this time of the year when they are seeking out a mate which always catches me unawares even when I know exactly what it is...
You mustn't get P.J. mixed up with P....P is about five foot tall and probably weighs six stone and drinks like a fish...he waits on the corner for a lift into town and the 'pub and turns his back if he sees a car coming with someone he doesn't care for driving...Himself often gives him a lift but he smells pretty awful...
P.J is quite enormously fat...he has a huge tummy and he's quite tall...he is the sweetest and most gentle man...has gall stones and a bad hip and the fox took away all his lovely chickens in broad daylight...he lives round the corner of our street opposite Gerry who breeds horribly expensive hot-blood horses and has a pair of nesting Barn owls in his haybarn...I'm seriously jealous about those owls...the horses are very elegant with their impossibly long legs but I'd rather have the owls...
I did a bit of finishing off sewing today...made a tablecloth from a piece of fabric I'd bought ages ago at the car-boot and cut some flowers out of a duvet cover to applique onto a cushion cover and managed to iron over the Bond-a-Web so now the iron hotplate has a thin and very sticky layer of glue on it...just wasn't thinking at the time.
I found out a bit more about the relative killed in the London riot...he was the Sheriff of London at the time, which was probably why he was murdered, though still haven't found out what the riot was about...
Then I found another relative who was murdered while he was out riding his horse in a forest and apparently minding his own business...actually he'd been involved in some double dealing over an inheritance but that was another story which was so horribly complicated that my eyes were glazing over...there were half brothers and step brothers and brothers born to concubines all scrabbling over titles and bits of land and doesn't it make you inclined to bang their heads together and tell them to get a feckin' grip...
The new Blackberry wine is popping! But...it's popping so furiously that it's popped out all over the worktop and now there's a sticky puddle of evil smelling liquid...I made this one differently...half the amount of that turbo yeast and half the amount of sugar and so why is it working like fury when everything was half of what is was before...
I might go to Adam's cottage tomorrow and see if there are any apples on his trees...he's not moving in until after Christmas so he'll never know I've been scrumping...there is a Damson tree on his land as well...if there is any fruit I might have those as well...shame to let them go to waste after all.
Did I ever tell you...and I might well have done...about the time Himself and I murdered dozens of turkeys for a couple we knew? They'd reared them and fattened them for the Christmas but decided they couldn't possibly kill them...so we did. Well, I didn't actually do the killing...just held their wings so they didn't flap...after we'd spent a sweaty afternoon murdering all those silly birds the lady of the house said she had something for us as payment...we waited...covered in feathers and bird shite and feeling like something narsty in the woodshed...she came back with two bottles of homemade wine...both bottles were half empty. And totally undrinkable...I tipped them down the sink.