Monday, 29 July 2013

Important Update On Destiny:

I've just found out that Destiny has been accepted into the care of an animal sanctuary in Bath, one that specializes in the care and rehabilitation of baby mammals; from badgers to squirrels to hedgehogs to foxes. Gavin found out about them online and after he contacted them they sent one of their staff round to fetch Destiny immediately, in-spite of the weather (a storm was raging at the time). The man said that the care they had given Destiny was not just brilliant but PERFECT; that in the mere three days they had had her (she is a 'her') with them her growth had been well above average and she had progressed nicely from a helpless infant to a VERY healthy baby squirrel that not only knew what she wanted and when but had the strength and determination to SCREAM until she got it (she woke Karen 3 times last night, demanding to be fed); which was a VERY good sign. It's not definite, obviously, but he said he was incredibly likely that she would survive to adulthood, thanks to them.
    The sanctuary people have assured Karen and Gavin that they will continue to raise Destiny until she is able to be released back into the wild . For the time being, the care will consist of exactly what they have been doing over the past 72 hours, then in a few weeks she will be placed into what they call a "half way post" to wean her away from any dependence on human contact. Then after that, release into the wild. They've promised that while they won't be sending daily updates - they have FAR too much to do for that - they will contact them when Destiny is ready for that to happen. 
    So that's that. Destiny is gone to a place that will help her until she is able to fully help herself. I've got to admit that I'm a little disappointed, both because I didn't get to see her and also because in the back of my mind I was hoping - just a little, but I was nonetheless - that maybe she would become a part of our family: Karen and Gavin's pet squirrel. But at the same time I'm aware that those disappointments are wholly selfish and for Destiny's sake, it is terribly good that neither have happened. It is best this way, for everyone; but most of all, for her.

Got to go. Games evening at The Grandpapa's.

Anyway, fingers crossed for Destiny. They're confident of her chances, but still; it couldn't hurt.

Alice
       xxx

PS: Gavin took a video of Destiny being fed on his phone. Hopefully I'll get to see it soon. Yay!

Now That I've Calmed Down...

...and before I forget: yesterday morning I and a group of Store colleagues (do they count as my 'colleagues', as I work for The Company, rather than The Store?? Maybe not, now that I think of it. But I see them as such, anyway, and that's what's important. Colleagues they are) were treated to a close encounter with a terribly pretty juvenile Robin.
    It fluttered about along the wall and around our legs and then along the wall again and at the metal door that we would soon be walking through (when a manager deigned to show up) and then onto the top of a nearby bike rack and then back to the door again...it seemed most determined to find a way in. Only when a manager finally arrived did it flit off, but I did wonder at the time as to whether or not it attempted to get in later and possibly succeeded. There are several birds - including a couple of pairs of adult robins - nesting in the eves (is that the word? The big metal beams that hold the roof up, anyway) in various places throughout the store, so maybe its family were in there somewhere and it had accidentally got shut out the night before. Poor thing if so. I hope it found them again. It seemed quite hearty and healthy and able to fly properly and such, though, so hopefully it will be alright.
    Isn't it funny how like slightly misshapen starlings fledgling robins look, though? Lots of speckles, wings that glow with hints of greens and blues, and not a hint of red across their chests at all. I had to double check online and find a picture before I truly believed that's what it had actually been. James, one of the warehouse staff, said that it was, and it did look very robin shaped and it moved in a very robin-esque way, but still. How odd.

=shrugs=

Just thought I'd share that, anyway.
    It was a pleasant interlude before the days work began; we all enjoyed it.

Bloody Dog...

Well, I finished my shift at 9am, having slogged my guts out (Mondays are always the hardest day of the week) and I was very looking forward to a nice sit down and a rest before I began slogging my guts out at home and then hightailed it down to the Sense shop. I should have had about an hour and a half that wasn't earmarked for anything, so just for me. Nice nice..

I looked forward to that sit down all the way home. Right up until I opened the front door and was confronted with a stressed out Mother and a stinking dog. He'd "rolled" in "something" and had been relegated to the garden in disgrace until I got home. She had been too nervous to try and wash him herself in case he struggled and she accidentally hurt him. Or herself, obviously, but more him.

Great. Wonderful. Absolutely bloody spiffing.

So instead of a sit down and a hot drink and a nice vegetate in front of the television - Frost was on - I found myself washing a very dejected dog. Thankfully he didn't put up too much of a fuss; outnumbered as he was two against one, and it was over with quite quickly, but we all of us got drenched in the process and I managed to get ketchup all over my work boots*. Again: spiffing.

So NOW I am sat down and the dog, having finally been allowed back into the house, is snoring contentedly on his bed, but I don't feel at all relaxed. I feel quite pissed off, actually. More so than I should, probably (we'll blame the hormones. It's that special time again. Whee.), but there you are; that's just how it is.

I'm going to have that hot drink now. Maybe that will soothe me.

Tara.

Alice.
        x

PS: ooh, before I forget; the baby squirrel is doing well. He/she (they have no clue) is getting stronger by the day and has been named "Destiny". Nice name, given by nice people - crazy, but nice - who care a great deal and are doing their best in a difficult situation. Fingers crossed. Although God knows what they're going to do when (I can't bring myself to think 'if', although I know it's more likely than 'when') Destiny grows up: it's difficult even for experts to raise a wild animal from a little after birth to adulthood without it becoming domesticated and unable to be re-released again, let alone a couple of well meaning novices armed with little more than grim determination and two library books.


* an old wives tale that actually works. Not many things can get rid of the smell of fox muck - even lemon, the all purpose smell-get-ridder-ofer, doesn't work all that well - but ketchup can. Sounds mad, but truly, it's great. It takes two washes, though. Because no matter how hard you try, you never get rid of all of the ketchup first time round; there's always a residue left behind.

Saturday, 27 July 2013

A Few Recent Conversations:

Conversation 1:

~ START ~

Scene begins with Alice and Mum chatting about everyday, nonsensical things in kitchen whilst unpacking some shopping. The phone rings and Mum goes to answer it. Carrying on unpacking, Alice is mildly intrigued when she overhears phrases such as "so not very old at all then" and "and how often would you have to feed it?". After the phone call is over with, Mum returns to the kitchen...

MOTHER: (cheerfully) sorry, what were we talking about?
ALICE: Um, I've got no idea now, nothing important I don't think. Who was that on the phone?
MOTHER: (rummaging through bags and rising triumphant with a carton of milk) Karen. Have you found the sugar?
ALICE: Mm. It's in the cupboard. What did she want?
MOTHER: (opens cupboard to retrieve sugar) Oh, just some advice. She's adopted a baby squirrel.
ALICE: ..... (blinks) .....
ALICE: .....Baby squirrel?.....
MOTHER: (nods) Yep.
ALICE: ..... (blinks) ..... Oh.
MOTHER: (nods again) ...Yeah. That's what I said when she first told me, too.

~ END ~

Conversation 2:

~ START ~

Scene begins in well known Pizzeria. Alice and Mum are waiting for their starters to arrive and making small talk. Seeing a woman walk by that look a little like Amanda (younger sister of Mum), Mum remembers something...

MOTHER: That reminds me! You know that Manda's been having problems with her liver lately and the doctors had been running tests.
ALICE: (half listening whilst playing with straw) Uh-huh.
MOTHER: (conspiratorially) Well, she went to get her results yesterday. Apparently the levels of the enzyme that Manda's body is having trouble with should be between 8 and 10, right? Any higher than that isn't good, and when you get to around 50, the doctors are really concerned.
ALICE: (abandons fiddling with straw and turns her attention to fork). Uh-huh. And what are her levels?
MOTHER: (gravely) 233.
ALICE: ..... (drops fork) .....

~ END ~

Conversation 3:

~ START~

Scene begins with Alice and Mum arriving at Karen's (youngest sister of Mum) house to give Gavin (husband of Karen) card and presents etc. to celebrate his birthday. Time passes happily with talking and laughter, when Karen remembers that she promised to lend a DVD to Mum a while ago. Hunt for said DVD pursues and Karen produces two large cases containing individual DVD slots. Mum gives impressed exclamation...

MOTHER: (impressed) Wow, Kaz, how good is that? They've each got their own little slot?
KAREN: (hunting through rows of DVDs) Mm-hmm. Now, I know it's here somewhere... Here, Kayleigh, double check this while I start on the next one.
KAYLEIGH: Alright. ..... (starts checking) ..... Nope, not in this one.
KAREN: (frowns) But it must be! It's not in this one, either. Oh, crap! Have you moved it?
KAYLEIGH: (indignant) No! Why would I? I don't watch that show.
KAREN: (starts searching again) OK, OK...
MOTHER: Can't you find it?
KAREN: (distracted) No, but it must be here. Kayleigh, check it again... Are you sure you don't have it?
KAYLEIGH: (miffed) I TOLD you, no.
MOTHER: (bemused) Sorry, I don't understand; don't you have your DVDs in alphabetical order?
KAREN: ..... (stares in stunned silence) .....
KAYLEIGH: ..... (stares in stunned silence) .....
MOTHER: ..... (still bemused) ..... No?
KAYLEIGH: ..... (stifles giggle) .....
KAREN: (continued to stare, now smiling pityingly) No, dear. I don't do that. YOU do that, but I don't.
MOTHER: (surprised) Oh. Ok.
KAREN: ..... (shakes head ruefully and keeps searching) .....

~ END ~

Wednesday, 24 July 2013

When You Are At A Garage...

...and the garage owner, upon hearing the noise your engine is making after being started up, exclaims "Bloody Nora!" before he has even started the test drive he said he was going to have to do; you know that whatever the problem is, it is bad.

When you are at a garage and - after the "Bloody Nora!" moment - the garage owner, upon raising the car up on the raising-the-car-up-thingy* to take a look, exclaims "holy shit!" as he waggles the exhaust pipe back and forth (in a way that it isn't supposed to be able to waggle); you know that whatever the problem is, it is very bad.

When you are at a garage and - after the "Bloody Nora!" and "holy shit!" moments - the garage owner, upon making a very thorough inspection, sucks his breath in through his teeth and says "I'm not going to lie; this isn't good. Things need to be replaced, and as Theodore is a very old car, I'm not sure what you will decide you want to do"; you know that whatever the problem is, it is very very bad.

When you are at a garage, however - despite the "Bloody Nora!" and "holy shit!" and "I'm not going to lie; this isn't good. Things need to be replaced, and as Theodore is a very old car, I'm not sure what you will decide you want to do" moments - and the garage owner, after filling your heart with dread; tells you that the entire cost including V.A.T and labour will come to a little under £80, you will immediately begin to feel A LOT better.

...Bloody man...
    If he weren't so good (and nice. and honest. and dependable.) I'd swing for him, I really would.

As it was, we waited while he ordered the new exhaust pipe, door-handle fittings and doohickey** - thank goodness for the parts supply shop just down the road. That saved several weeks of waiting - paid the £74.87 bill (rather than having to spend several hundred on a new second-hand car) and skipped (well, drove) our way home happy as Larry.

I'm going to sit down, now. With that temporary stress on top of the heat and with the extra hours I've been putting in at work this week, I feel quite limp.

Tara.
    Alice x


* a technical term used by ignorant people like me, who have no idea what certain things - such as the various car and/or car fixing components - are actually called.

** another technical term. Never fear, I've got loads of 'em.

Tuesday, 23 July 2013

It's...Just...Too...HOT!

Today (going by the advice of Yahoo News. ...Yeah. I know. But still) I decided to take a shower a little before I started out for work today to help me to stay cooler. That was at 4.55am. At 5.30am I started out. We were finally in the throws of the big thunder storm we'd been promised* (although; 'big'? Pah! Why, back in my day...) and it was raining hard, so I took an umbrella so that my newly washed hair didn't get washed all over again. 5 and 1/2 hours after that, I finished work, the sun was shining brightly, the thunder storm was long gone and everything was bone dry. Except me, that is.
    Yep. That's right. Not only did my hair not dry (AT ALL) but the rest of me ended up soaked with perspiration as well. Great. It cooled down by a blissful few degrees (outside, not in. The Store can double as a sauna) for a total of 3 hours before the storm cleared and temperatures soared again. Lord only knows what it is like outside now; I am hiding indoors with every window open, every blind drawn and every fan that we own (three) blowing full blast. I can tell you that when I let Bingo out for a wee an hour or so again it was blindingly bright and in the few seconds I held the door open the damn thing warped at the frame (yet again) and made it nearly impossible to close it (yet again)**. So, it seems, it's still quite hot. And, according to the news, destined to get hotter.
    These are the types of summers, you know, that I remember from my childhood. Blistering paintwork on the cars, warping of door and window frames, sizzling pavements and roads (do NOT take your shoes off, by the way, not even to take a stone out. One wrong step and you'll blister like there's no tomorrow, Trust me), your whole body slick with sweat (and not in a fun sort of way), grass burning up and turning brown and crispy under a relentless sun... Ugh. I hated it then, and I hate it now.
    My one consolation as I trudge about feeling sorry for myself is that come autumn and winter time I, the-fat-one-that-doesn't-really-feel-the-cold-much, will be happy and cool and enjoying myself while everybody else - particularly those skinny enough to saunter round in bikinis - shivers miserably under their multiple layers of clothing. ...And yes, I know that makes me an embittered bitch (after all, it's no-one else's fault but mine that I'm two and a half stone bigger than I should be), but right now I don't care. I just want it to COOL DOWN, NOW, so that I can enjoy going outside again. Or properly enjoy being INside, come to that; I'd settle for that.

=sighs=

At least I was able to make myself vacuum today, so the house looks a little better. It meant that I had to take another shower and put yet more clothes for wash, though. The amount we are using our washing machine right now is obscene. Forgetting the horrendous hike we'll receive on our next electricity bill as a result, the idea of how much water must be being wasted on it makes me cringe. But what can you do? Wash by hand, I suppose, but that'd still use a lot of water, wouldn't it?

=sighs=

Now I've moaned in a disgustingly self centered way - about something that people with real problems would kill me for after they'd finished laughing - for several paragraphs I'm going to feed the cat.
    That's productive.
    Yep.
    =nods=

Alice x

* mother went berserk upon waking at 6 and finding a storm raging outside, and me gone. A recently instated New House Rule now insists that I wake her up should thunder and lightening be occurring at the same time that I am due to walk to work, so that she can safely give me a lift in her car.
** An ongoing problem that apparently happens with crappy plastic doors more than it does with wood ones. Once it gets hot enough, being open for even 1 second is long enough for the plastic to change shape sufficiently for the door to no longer fit properly in its frame; thus rendering it unable to shut. All you can do once this happens is chuck cold water at it, or wait for everything to cool enough to force it. Or both, whilst praying, which is what we've been doing. 

Thursday, 18 July 2013

So Far Today:

I have spilled a glass of water all over the table and floor, lost a pair of socks just long enough to make me trudge back up the stairs (two flights, mind. They may be comparatively small and only have 13 steps or so apiece, but still; there are two of them) to fetch another after which I inexplicably found the original pair upon trudging back down again, walked into three door frames, sneezed on and off over and over again and at least once actually on someone (an elderly woman; she was not best pleased, but grudgingly accepted my apology before getting out of the way when she saw that another one was already brewing), gotten in God knows how many peoples' way, dropped almost everything I've tried to pick up, sweated so much in the heat that the top I wore to work today fresh from the washing line needs to go back into soak again (as do I, for that matter. I hate this weather) and have just this minute now crossly blown a raspberry at the dog because for some reason he is refusing to wag his tail at me.

...It's 9:59am.
I'm guessing that's too early to go back to bed and call the day a loss, right...?

Wednesday, 17 July 2013

The Kids Vs Dogs Debate:

Just read an article online, titled "5 Things Parents Need To Stop Saying To Non Parents".

It's here:
http://www.huffingtonpost.com/john-kinnear/5-things-parents-need-to-stop-saying-to-non-parents_b_3573670.html

It's funny and sort of true in an exaggerated and extreme sort of way (the comments alone are priceless. My word but people are defensive!) but to get to reason of my post; while I have an opinion on all 5 things (which of course at some point I'll share), the first one is the one above all that made me roll my eyes and think 'well, that's crap'. 

I disagree with it on two levels.

Disagreement Number One is that non parents and parents don't have anything to talk about other than the parent going on about the child and the non parent awkwardly listening in a bored sort of way, because frankly, in the majority of cases that just isn't true. Sure, the parent will go on and on about the child, of course he/she/they will. This is because he or she is their BABY (no matter how old he or she gets, that doesn't change) and the single most important thing in the parents' lives, and that is as it should be; that is good and natural and totally fine. And no, as a childless person there will be no stories even remotely similar (unless you work in some way with children; teacher, perhaps) to volley back at them. And yes (to be honest); no matter how much we may love the parent and the child, not every last thing about said child will be absolutely fascinating to a childless person, nor in any need of being told about in intricate detail, especially not over and over again. But not only do most parents understand this fact (I know Best Friend 1 does. She was petrified of becoming one of 'those' parents. Which of course she did, because, well, that's what you do. Nobody minds. Or at least I don't), but in any case, in 99% of cases there will be something else, if you the non parent really cannot stand to hear another "junior did so-and-so" story, that you can talk about. It can be anything. The weather. The hat a nearby person is wearing. Something that happened at work to either parent or childless person. A discussion/debate about religion/politics/environment/any other often inflammatory topic. Old childhood - if you've known one another that long - memories both good or bad. Various moans about significant others/relatives/periods (childed or not; if you have a womb that works even a little bit, ALL women have a moan or two that they can agree on about that one)/work colleagues/anybody or anything that doesn't fit into any of the categories provided. Trust me. THERE WILL BE SOMETHING.

Disagreement Number Two is an actual disagreement that Best Friend 1 and I agree to disagree on (which for us, is rare), because in many ways, actually, it ISN'T 'stupid' to compare dogs to kids, because in many ways, they ARE alike. Identical, absolutely not. There are definite differences that can never be forgotten. BUT, setting the differences aside, there are other things that you can chalk up to either or of them and not be wrong. Not just the most basic one; that both small children/dogs are dependent on their parents/owners for food - this is a no brainer, of course (is 'brainer' a word, by the way? Spell-Check says "no"...)  because unless living wild dogs cannot feed themselves (and even then they would need a pack to function properly), so you have to feed them to help them survive, just as you do with a small child - but some other things, too. Parents may not like it or even agree with it (Best Friend 1 certainly doesn't on either count, though like a good Best Friend she takes it in her stride, just as I take all the "Squidgum did/said/wants/needs/worked out/looked and/or smelled like so-and-so" stories in mine) but there are, nonetheless, direct correlations between the average dog and the average small child (say 0-4).

Here are 16 off the top of my head:

1) they share a similar way of thinking and intelligence level. Sure, SOME children between the ages of zero and four are geniuses that are composing symphonies or such by age three and have done with university by age ten, just as there are dogs that are so smart that the only way they are one upped by anyone of any age is their lack of oposible thumbs or children that for some reason or another never progress past the mental age of one. But on average, on the basis of thought processes and intelligence alone, dogs and your average toddler are identical. They both have the ability to think and work things out and the ability to understand the world around them (albeit in some cases in an inverted or otherwise limited way) and the ability to know exactly what they want or don't want.

2) they are both dependent on us - be it Parent or Adopted Head Of Pack - for not only food, but EVERYTHING. From cleaning up their messes (bodily excretions or otherwise) to providing love and affection and reassurance to providing entertainment and diversion when wanted/or needed to providing adequate health care for ongoing good health or the treatment of ailments or injuries to the providing of shelter that is neither too cold nor too warm to providing company (different from entertainment) to providing the appropriate teachings to discipline behaviour into a manner that is acceptable within society; EVERYTHING. If you do not provide these things, or at least arrange for someone else to provide them if at any point you can't (i.e.; child minder or teacher, or dog sitter/walker or vet) you are a crap Parent or Adopted Head Of Pack. These are not nice little extras (like cool toys or expensive trips or holidays), but essentials.

3) Both are capable of being absolute pains in the arse, whether due to being ill at really inconvenient times or places (we've all been there) or behaving in an unacceptable way (particularly in public) either through ignorance or pure willful misbehaviour; it happens. Both have the capacity, thanks to their intelligence, to misbehave or manipulate and try your patience just because they can and to hell with the consequences (I'm never going to forget the day that I said to my then one year old dog "Bingo: come! Come on: come!" and he stood there with an insolent expression on his face and a glint in his eye that told me, in no uncertain terms: "make me"). Both have the capacity, thus, to really really embarrass you and cause you to draw the ire of both relatives and friends or random members of the public.

4) Both have feelings that can be hurt and hearts that can be broken.

5) In the cases of both Parent and Adoptive Head Of Pack, you will at some point at least once (but more than likely over and over again), be the subject of judgement and disapproval by other people because you are not doing whatever it is that you may be doing exactly the way that they did/are doing/thinks you should, or because your child/dog is not doing exactly what their child/dog did/are doing/thinks they would do if they had said dog/child. And in both cases it is equally frustrating, exasperating, upsetting or wearily depressing, or all four of the above when it happens (and if it hasn't yet, trust me, it will).

6) Both children and dogs can see/hear/feel/all three things that we can't and/or don't want to.

7) Both children and dogs love unconditionally.

8) By the same token as 7), both children and dogs tend to be honest to the point of being brutal about everything, towards not just the world in general but towards you. And Adoptive Head Of Packs' take note; just because dogs can't audibly 'speak human', as the saying goes,  doesn't mean that they can't in their own way tell you and everybody else exactly what they think, because they can. They really really can and they really really will.

9) Just like kids, dogs will have a Favourite Thing; be it a ball or a cuddly toy or a stick or a random piece of plastic or card or fabric or actually just anything at all, and it will be the most bestest and wonderful thing of all time. They will carry it around everywhere with them that they can or you will let them, they will cuddle and hold it while relaxed and/or sleeping, they will make sure that it is in the same room as them at all times if at all possible and they will become absolutely frantic if for some reason they cannot find it. Over time the Favourite Thing may change (or may not, which in the cases of dogs can cause problems. We're currently on Pig. Number 12 and running out of options. ...Long story...), but the behaviour revolving around it will not.

10) Both child and dog will have some thing that has to happen no matter what that they absolutely hate and/or fear beyond all reason. The possibilities over what it is are endless and the amount of times you have to do it will vary wildly from every day to rarely, but the one thing that they all have in common no matter what is that it is a thing that the child or dog will make your like absolute hell over. Bingo's, for instance, is being groomed. Bathed he dislikes with a passion but once penned in a walk-in shower and unable to escape he submits without a struggle. You go at him with a brush or comb, penned in or not, and he goes balistic. And no, any judgmental people that may be reading this, he has never once been hurt or in any way traumatized by either a brush or a comb in any of his eight and a half years.

11) Both, at least occasionally, have nightmares and wake up screaming.

12) Both will have a Favouite Food that they adore above all others and will do absolutely anything, bar that Thing They Hate and/or Fear Beyond All Reason, to get. Bingo's is cat food. ...Yeah, I know.

13) Both will clamour endlessly for things and your attention and oftentimes give you the feeling immediately after you stop that no matter how much you have given them, it's not quite enough.

14) Both are (rightly) really smug and proud when they manage to do something or figure something out on their own and in both cases it's a really fun (though sometimes frustrating or fraught at the same time) to watch.

15) Both, at least once at some point in their lives, will break your heart, nearly bankrupt you and scare you to death; hopefully (though not definitely) not at the same time.

and last but by no means least;

16) both dogs and kids will get absolutely disgustingly filthy at the time when you are able to deal with it least.

So there you go. 16 ways that yes; like it or not, I really actually CAN compare my dog to your kid.
    From what I've read and seen though, exaggerated articles or biased studies or describers apart, it really DOES seem to offend some parents. Not just cause them to think that you are ignorant or ill-informed and set it aside and/or tolerate it (as Best Friend 1 does with me) but actually really indignantly offends them so badly that they get angry about it and in extreme cases actually end the friendship or acquaintanceship over it.
    Why??
    Until Best Friend 1 had Squidgum I didn't consider why, really - not that I was ever in a situation or a position to say to a parent that "hey; Bingo does that exact same thing" or "I know what you mean, Bingo is really smart, too" etc. etc. before that time - but now I have - and am in such a position and situation - the only thing I can think of to explain it is that deep down, (even if they deny it on a conscious. ....Which incidentally, Best Friend 1 doesn't*...), they believe all animals to be inferior to humans and therefore any comparison made between said animals and their child, who of course to them is absolutely astounding and above average (even if said child as in most cases, in actual fact isn't, not really) is seen as an outrageous insult that needs to be corrected and if not avenged.
    =shrugs=
    That's all I've got by way of an explanation, anyway.


Got to go. There will be more on the subject of childed verses non-childed (as it relates to me) another time, though.
    ....Bet you're really looking forward to that, aren't you?

Alice
        x


* I would like to point out in case anyone reading should get the wrong impression, that Best Friend 1 does not hate animals. She loves them, particularly dogs (though due to financial and spacial constraints she does not currently have one), and does not in any way wish harm or ill-treatment upon them. She does not, however, believe them to be equal to humans on either a practical, intellectual (if that is the appropriate word?), spiritual or moral level. She believes them, in short, to be important, but not quite as important as humans. Whether right or wrong, those are her views, and I respect them, as she respects mine. 

Saturday, 13 July 2013

Update.

Hi Blog. It's been a while, hasn't it?

I haven't felt much like posting the past couple of weeks, really; to start because I've been too busy. What with work and my shifts at the charity store and the dog and housework (how horrid housework is when it's too hot and there's seeds everywhere?) and errands and choir practice and helping mother with school planning and cooking (again, though; when it's hot...), suddenly there doesn't seem to be enough time in the day to do everything I need to. And it's just SO HOT - did I mention that? - and humid and sticky and... =sighs=. There's no sign of it cooling down yet in the near future; in fact, it's going to get hotter, apparently. I'll be so happy when it does. At least in snow and ice you can wear boots to try and prevent you from slipping...in weather like this there's only so many layers that one can remove; particularly when out in public to maintain decency, and what's more, I'm apt to burn so have to slather myself in sunscreen which makes me even more sticky, and... ugh. Just ugh.

Also, I've not felt much like chatting in the build up to Stan's funeral. That was Thursday just gone. I had to change at work as soon as my shift finished, no time even for a shower. I had to just chuck my cleaning uniform in a bag, slip into my black skirt and blouse and then walk as fast as I could up to The Grandpapa's flat where he was waiting for me with a taxi to take us to the cemetery. It was uncomfortably warm even then, at 9am and I was drenched with sweat by the time I got there. Not particularly attractive, but it was the best I could do in the circumstances, so there it was.
    The service itself went off well, or at least as well as something like that can. Ann held herself very bravely. She cried, of course she did, from start to finish, but she held herself upright and erect and managed to keep herself from screaming out in front of others the desolation that must have been inside of her.
    Afterward there was a reception at the Stourport British Legion - Stan had served in the Navy. And the Royal Navy. And the Merchant Navy. Oh, and the the Army itself. Every part of it, actually, other than the Air Force - but we (Aunt Bett, The Grandpapa and me) didn't go. We wanted to make Ann happy, but we had already paid our respects to Stan and the thought of all of the crowds and the crush in a tiny hall in that heat was just unbearable, so we cried off and went to toast him in the quiet coolness of Stan's favourite pub - The King & Castle - instead, just the three of us. Then we had a meal in the nearby fish'n'chip shop before I trudged home to tend to the dog and get dinner ready so that I would be ready in time for choir practice. There were plenty of people that went with her, though, so that was alright.

Anyway, that's what's been happening. There's a story idea floating around inside my head, too; one that's been cannily avoiding being caught. Annoying. I'll get a-hold of it sooner or later, though, and get it down. I'll actually finish one or other of them one of these days, too. ...She says... =shakes head=

Got to go. Rehearsal for the concert tonight. I am SO NERVOUS that I'll ruin it, somehow.
    Fingers crossed that I don't.

Alice
        xxx