Words from a Bird

Now I love my Tesco groceries delivery driver.  He is polite, friendly and very chatty, and we always exchange a bit of polite conversation (usually involving the weather) as I lift the bags from the plastic crates he wheels up to my doorstep. However, after today's delivery,  Tesco and I are taking a bit of a sabbatical from each other.  You know how having your groceries delivered should in theory save you a whole mountain of time?  Well today's delivery took so long from start to finish that I could have driven to Tesco (in Aberdeen), done my shopping, packed it in the car and driven home again. Tesco have introduced a new No Bag Policy you see, so the 97 items I'd bought turned up at my door in nine different crates un-bagged and causing havoc.  'Tesco are trialing it out', explained my lovely driver as I lifted out my groceries one item at a time.  Further questioning revealed that this would be going on till late August.  'If that's the case&#

I am without wheels. Poor old Rita (my Mini) went in for a service today.  The husband had followed me over to the dealer on Monday so that we could drop it off, with the expectation of a call from them mid morning today.  At this point, I would have said something along the lines of 'How much?' or 'Are you really sure it needs one of those?' before settling up with them.  They would then drop Rita back sometime this afternoon where we would be reunited. Well ladies, I got the call alright... 'It's George here, from Mini'. Bracing myself (and my bank account) for the pending words of doom, I waited to see what the final bill was.  Mind you, he had called earlier than expected, so part of me was wondering whether he was phoning ahead of some gargantuan piece of expensive work which the technician had identified.  I was partly right. 'There's been a recall on your car, Madam'. Interesting.  This must have happened in the tw

I've been on the missing list this weekend, but for good reason.  As you know, this weekend the husband and I celebrated yet another wedding anniversary. What has been really lovely is that we have mostly kept to home, enjoying each other's company, walking our woofers and eating lovely food courtesy of the husband and his naked flame.  There have been brief interludes of non-anniversary stuff, such as breakfast with the family on Saturday and a most pleasant three hours spent leering at semi naked men with feathered trousers (Matthew Bourne Swan Lake fix) but for the most part, it's just been me and him. As you all know, wood has featured quite strongly in our house over the past couple of months, with the husband's anniversary present to me being an oak pergola which he made himself.  I, not being so adept with a jigsaw, took to the internet, and personalized a cube of oak for him.  The husband loved it, and it now sits inside the pergola, where I can turn it rou

So Rocketman was fantastic. The husband barely batted an eyelid as I broke the news to him that Pets Life 2 would have to wait till the weekend.  I told him as he was negotiating with the poor lady at the ice cream counter as to how much rum 'n' raisin ice cream was required for his smoothie.  Distraction is key on these occasions, ladies. I think that every emotional base was touched with this film.  There was laughter, tears, shock and disbelief.  Actually, most of this was directed at the costumes, but let's face it, for those of us that were there, the 1970's were an interesting time to say the least.  I remember at the age of nine having a pair of red fake PVC hot pants.  How the Mother could have found this even the slightest bit acceptable is anyone's guess. Matched with knee length white socks and a couple of dubious afros,    Miss R and I looked like a couple of Hobbit hookers from the Bronx when we played out on our bikes.   I actually met the hus

There's a lot going on in the Bird's world this week.  Having three dogs (although an absolute joy) is a challenge, especially when walking.  My two, who could break the land speed record if there was a Boneo at the finish line, are having to show a little restraint where the shorter legged lodger is concerned. Lord Sidney is not built for speed (mind you, neither am I so I shouldn't grumble really) and it's a bit of a stop/start walk in the afternoon.  Having said that, it's been a bit hot the last few days, so it's been rather perfect just rambling.   The pecking order has been firmly established with Lord Sidney resting his fluffy, white head on Reg's favourite pillow.  Meanwhile, Reg has taken a liking to Lord Sidney's tartan bed, and is often to be found languishing there when I get up in the morning.  There is always a guilty look between the two of them when I walk into daughter number two's bedroom (now the dogs' bedroom), almost lik

Never again will I send son number two to do my food shopping. Agreed, it was a fairly substantial list, and with all respect to him, he did get everything ticked off, but oh dear, what I have been left with is interesting to say the least. Here are some of the items I asked for, and what I actually got... 6 x large Cox apples Well he got the number of apples correct (all that expensive schooling paid off then) and they were Cox apples.  But the size.  To be honest, I have been confused all weekend, as they were the same size as the 6 x plums I also had on my list.  There has been some serious fruity to-ing and fro-ing this weekend, I can tell you. 1 x free range organic chicken (as large as possible) Now I know this sounds rather showy, but I don't eat much meat, so I try to eat something which has hopefully had the best life ever before ending up on my plate.  What I actually got was a supermarket special for £3.00.  When questioned, son number two was up in

We have a house guest for a few days. Lord Sidney has joined us for several days' R and R while his mum and dad go away for a few days. Now before you start thinking that I have opened up some boarding house for the fallen peers of this glorious isle, Lord Sidney is a most dignified Westie, complete with tartan collar and matching bed.  He's stayed with us before, so my dogs are more than happy to have him stay, as are the husband and I who adore him.   The husband is always very happy to have Lord Sidney here, as it makes me realise that a third woofer would be too much on a full time basis.  I don't know how people cope with more than two dogs.  While one is pooping, another is sniffing while the third might be attempting a liaison with the poodle down the road.  So having Lord Sidney reminds me of my canine limitation.  Two hands is perfect for two leads.  Between visits, the husband has to remind me many times how tricky three dogs are, but it never stops me fr

Cast your mind back to when I was incarcerated in the Wobble Box having thrown myself down a bona fide mountain in Wales.  Lying down in the caravan with a makeshift ice-pack on my knee (which had swollen to almost double its normal size and was at risk of blocking the light to the sitting area) I presumed that the old arthritis (curse you, old age) was playing up again.  Having hobbled around for a days, I finally did as the husband told me (a rare occurrence as I always know best) and made an appointment at the local gym where they had a super-duper physio. I was early, I always am, and I was told to sit and wait.  Fortuitously, the sofa I chose had a fabulous view of the weights section of the gym, and a most pleasant ten minutes was spent watching various chaps throwing their weights around.  I think that had the physio taken my blood pressure after calling me in, I might well have had a higher than usual reading. But enough of that.  She prodded me.   She bent me. She wav

There's nothing like a wasp in your bra to focus the mind. It's hot you see, and yesterday afternoon I decided to pop on one of my summer tops to take full advantage of the glorious weather.  Pulling a particularly pretty blue vest from the wardrobe, I stuck it on and headed out.  There was a bit much on show I admit it, but as I rarely meet anyone on my walks, I wasn't too bothered. But I need to go back a little.  This top was one I found in a carrier bag at the back of the airing cupboard.  It was stuffed in there with several other items of clothing and one flip flop, and I know for a fact that this bag hadn't made any appearance for at least the last three years.  It was like finding buried treasure, and I pulled out each crumpled piece of clothing delighted to have the equivalent of some new clothes without any money leaving my bank account. Duly washed and ironed, the clothes then made their way up to my wardrobe where they hung in multicoloured sple

Ouch.... I think that just about sums up how I felt this morning.  Actually, from around 11.45 on Friday night if I'm completely honest. It was a designated Charlie Friday night you see.  An occasion which gets lightly penciled onto my neighbours' calendars so that they don't forget.  An occasion where neighbours bring their own glasses and various odd looking (bottom shelf, no doubt) bottles of gin.  We supply the venue (the Wobble Box), the crucial vibes (Radio 2's Tony Blackburn, rapidly followed by Friday Night is Music Night), the vitals (barbecue this time) and even more gin.   This is the fourth time we've had a Charlie Friday, and last night was the best one yet.  We actually managed to get thirteen people into our four berth caravan - if the clever bods at The Guinness Book of Records want to get in touch with me, I'm always happy to do a re-run to prove that this is possible.  Mind you, as the night wore on, some of the less hardy ones (Mr

Ever since Percy demonstrated the rather over exuberant wooing of my friend Mrs F's trouser leg last week, things have not been the same in this house.  After almost seven years of thinking that Percy's persuasions lay elsewhere (mainly in the 4-ply section of the local wool shop) the incident with my friend's right leg seems to have woken something up in him which up till now has remained dormant. Unfortunately, I have to walk past Mrs F's house every day when I walk the woofers, and Percy has taken to running ahead so that he can howl on her doorstep for a few minutes while I shuffle across the road with Reg.  So Percy has taken to a-wooing, and the fact that he can't reach the doorbell doesn't stop him from howling on Mrs F's doorstep in the hope that she will come out 'to play'. Thankfully, the times he has chosen to serenade her, she's either been asleep or out but never let it be said that Percy is a quitter. He's also taken to

I thought you might be interested in the other stuff Mr Bird and I got up to while we were away in the Wobble Box this weekend.  The pinnacle of the weekend was the mountain climb (see what I did there?) but before this, we had anticipated a simple, peaceful and quiet few days together with the dogs.  What we hadn't expected was to be shouted at as we strolled to the pub on the first night, 'What on earth are you two doing here?' Standing outside a posh (and long) motor home, were two very good friends of ours.  Happily retired, they trolley around the world in their home on wheels, and just happened to land in Pandy a whole thirty minutes before we did on Thursday.  The funny thing is, that every time we see each other, the subject of caravans and motor homes is always raised, with promises on both sides made that we will arrange something together for a weekend.  To date, we've never managed to do this, but it finally happened by accident.  We all decided that th

I am officially grounded today, confined to barracks with today's paper and a DIY ice pack thanks to the local corner shop. Let me explain. Yesterday, the husband and I climbed The Skirrid which overlooks our Wobble Box in Pandy.  Having stared at it solidly for forty eight hours, the husband decided that Saturday's 'jolly' would be a 'walk up that hill'.   Now as you know I am an avid walker, clocking up around forty miles a week courtesy of the two woofers, so when faced with a 'moderate' walk (I know this, as I did some internet digging before I agreed to go anywhere near it) which would take between 2-3 hours, I decided that this middle aged bird was more than capable.  I mean, it even had an 'easier' route if you didn't want to do the final 'scramble' (their word again) up to the summit. The husband, looking for any opportunity to give his new ruck sack an airing, packed up like we were scaling Everest, with

I've just returned from a lovely walk with the two woofers.  Bluebells, birdsong and two happy dogs.  What more could you want on a Wednesday afternoon? As we came back onto the road, I slipped Percy and Reg back onto their leads.  This isn't so much that they might run off, but it's quite useful to have them pull me up the final hill before home.  Just as we were rounding the last bend, my lovely friend Mrs F pulled over for a word. She had her woofer on the back seat, an ash blonde temptress of a floozy called Chloe, who my two take absolutely no notice of. However... 'I'll leave Chloe in the car as she's in season', explained my friend as she wandered over to me for a chat.   Now I swear that other than an unfortunate incident with another schnauzer called Hugo, Percy has shown no interest in the fairer sex, preferring instead to do his own thing which usually involves listening to Gardener's Question Time, catching up on The Archers