I’m not looking for praise or glory, but I did happen to save a young life yesterday.
It flew into our sun-room window and knocked itself out. A bird will die if left on its back for very long, so it’s important to get to it ASAP and turn it the right way up, keep it warm and let it recover. This tiny, tiny, baby Great Tit, nestled in my hand, then eventually came to, picked up its head and opened its beak. It didn’t seem at all concerned or frightened. I placed him/her on the garden table and within minutes its mother was with it, giving it food. An hour later, when I was just beginning to worry that it was seriously injured, it flew away. Ah…………………..
Tip for the day. If you happen to have one of these wonderful mechanical beds, like ours, (two narrow beds close together with separate controls) do not be tempted, even as a gesture of affection, to let your feet and legs sidle over to your partner’s side. B woke before me this morning, pressed his button to make himself upright – pressed the wrong button, the one that flicks the feet in the air – I woke stuck in the gap between the beds otherwise known as the ‘great divide’ with my knees pressed hard into my eye sockets…………just some advice from one who knows……………….
The Blackthorn is out! It seems to me that it happened overnight. Is it really unlucky to bring it into the house, I know it would drop its petals, is that why it’s regarded as bad luck, because someone has the bad luck to have to clear up after it? But what a striking combination of colours, off white, chocolate brown, lovett green and tiny hints of acrid green where the leaves are peeping through. I thought I might reknit Valbonne in jewel like hues but maybe the calm colours of the blackthorn would be better……………………..
There suddenly seems a wealth of life in the hedgerows, look one way and there are Catkins and the sticky buds of the Horse Chestnut, look another, and there is an exquisite bank of primroses.
I came across another treasure for the boys this morning. Just on the edge of Hall Wood, nestled amongst a vibrant patch of Ground Ivy, lay a rabbit’s skull (our ancestors used ground Ivy – then appropriately called Alehoof, to flavour and preserve beer).
At the war memorial in the village are tiny white violets, known as Sweet Violets because of their wonderful scent.
Someone has fly tipped in the woods near the park gate, it makes my blood boil; how could someone scar such a beautiful environment? There’s a perfectly good (free) tip on the main road. I shall set forth with black bags this afternoon and clear it up. The last time we were subjected to fly tipping we were left with a very smelly, complete kitchen, including the fridge, washing machine and stove. Before that the person that fly tipped in one of the pit-holes, dumped some of his mail along with the rubbish – name address, everything, kindly supplied ……………………………..
The day is clear and bright, but last night a sea fret rolled up the valley – there is nothing more chilling. It brings with it an eerie silence and what sounds can be heard are dulled and distorted – a night for ghost stories?
The marque is erected, the tables are set and the weather forecast promises sunshine for the happy couple. I crept into the marque early this morning it smells of spring flowers and happy anticipation……………….
I have finished Valbonne, (pattern available soon at Pallas Designs). I took it to the doctors with me yesterday (a monthly blood test) in order to knit some of the neck band, but I was called in before I’d even done one single row, how inconsiderate, not only to run on time but to run early, how am I expected to plan my day and get stuff done?
I think they should serve coffee in the doctors waiting room, then everyone would be early for their appointments and could enjoy a chat, although the question “how are you” would have to be banned. I do, from time to time, have these good ideas. I once (when my dogs were malting) decided that M&S should make a range of trousers in dog colours. What fun it would be to be directed to the yellow Labrador rail, the brown German Shepherd rail, or the White Cairn rail. Perhaps not, but I still think there is a fortune to be made for the shop that sells size 16’s with a size 14 label, and 14’s with a size 12 label etc. we’d all very soon be convinced that they were the only correct sized clothes in town.
Knitting, it may be the turn in the weather, but I have a sudden desire to knit ‘funky’, modern, fun, flimsy, young, stuff, maybe knit in a fine lace yarn, big needles, mellow colours…………
Ah, but I still have the men’s sweater to create. If only there were just a few more hours in the day……………….
I have promised myself that I will complete all the stuff half knitted and the stuff knitted and not sewn…………….. but it’s more fun to do something new……………………………..
I can hear Bernard’s music coming from the drawing room, he has been so terribly down lately. I’m trying to convince him that old age is a beautiful thing if one is surrounded by people that love you, which he is…………..
Lastly I am trying to work out how I can reach our little Indian Buda, he needs a coat of gold leaf paint – ah, I know where there is some! (B’s study, second shelf, left hands side). But he (the Buda not my husband) is very high up on the main gates to the Hall. The gates are the original gates to the East India Docks in London; they are very beautiful. Over the years, even since I’ve lived here, they have had quite a few knocks (mainly lorry drivers that think size doesn’t matter). Today a red double decker bus is delivering the wedding guests from the church……….the driver has been warned to use the lorry lane around the gates; I shall still hold my breath. Oh what history, what tales, what secrets, could be told by these cast iron witnesses and maybe by the little Buda……………….