Reap what you sow

We recently got ourselves an allotment. I was so excited, i have always wanted to grow my own food. When we started to work our plot we discovered endless pieces of rusty metal and enough bricks to build a house! Maybe that is what the previous gardener was hoping for. Perhaps he thought if he planted the raw materials he might harvest a new build!

The plot actually resembles a building site more than a garden. We have started work on digging over and clearing but I wonder if we have taken on a project that is too big for us. I am not one who gives up on things easily and I am determined to give it a good go. I have worked really hard already and the thought of someone else coming in and reaping the benefits of my labour does not appeal to me.

I think we will have to call in the big guns and hire some machinery to get the place into any sort of shape for planting. I've never used a rotavator but I am looking forward to the experience.

We have already started to plan our crop layout for next year. I would love to become self sufficient and live off the land. This might age me but I always wanted to be Barbara Good from "The Good Life" We even plan to make wine at some time in the future and definately have a few hens.

And I can get fit and tone up whilst working on the allotment. Who needs to spend a fortune on Gym membership!

Watch this space!

Yesterday I was doing the dishes and gazing out the kitchen window, when I noticed a man walking with a dog. Nothing unusual there. But what breed of dog was it? I looked harder as he approached. Suddenly I got a clear vision of the "dog"...... it was in fact, not a dog but a tiny Shetland pony! I could not resist, I rushed out and cried to the poor unsuspecting man "Can I stroke him?" Bless the man , he stopped and allowed this crazy lady to fuss his little pony. I bombarded him with questions...."what kind of pony is he?" "How old is he?" "where do you keep him?" "Is he hard to care for?" He patiently answered all my questions before making his escape. He probably thought I was mad, but I cannot express the pure joy that the experience afforded me.

Of course, now, I really want one!

Wedding plans

The wee folks wedding is nearing
I think I need a new hat
Gary's been tending the garden
and watching out for that cat!

The invites are being posted
The fairy cakes almost cooked
The flowers have been ordered
and the honeymoon has been booked

The fairy princess is nervous
The garden gnome full of joy
When he looks at his beautiful fairy
He knows he's a lucky boy

The toadstools are being positioned
In neat little rows all around
But for me to see things clearly
I'll have to lie on the ground

And so I look forward with pleasure
And hope to see you all there
A wonderful, magical moment
One I can't wait to share.

These are a few of my favourite things

The warmth of the sun on my face
The sound of birds in the spring
To see my little dog playing
A few of my favourite things

Hearing the laugh of a loved one
What happiness that can bring
Time spent with friends and family
A few of my favourite things

"J" walking

Last week I reached the age of fifty, yes 50! The half century! I am a middle aged woman, a woman of a certain age. Am I bothered? Absolutely not!

My 50th birthday was the perfect excuse to invite lots of people who mean very much to me to gather together and help me celebrate. I decided on a fancy dress party themed "J". The first reaction from friends and family was "why "J"? Becauase J is the first letter of my name, the next was "What on earth can I come as that starts with "J"?" Well it certainly got us all thinking.

On the night I was visited by an array of famous names includung John Bon Jovi, Jackie Onasis and Julius Ceasar. I was honoured to meet for the first time a Canadian lumberjack turned ice hockey star and the lovely Jordan - in duplicate!

I was blown away by the distance friends and family travelled to help me celebrate., and humbled by the huge challenge overcome by two people in particular. I only hope they know just how much it means to me.

I consider myself truly blessed in having such wonderful people in my life. My partner worked so hard to make my party fun and he made me a fantastic birthday cake with 50 candles.

I am a very,very lucky girl!

Ellie meet your Grandad.

When speaking to my niece the other day, I felt quite sad when she said she doesn't remember her Grandad, my dad. She asked me to write a blog about him. So Ellie, I hope this will help you to get know your Grandad, albeit posthumously.

My father, Brian Neville Young was two people to me. One before his stroke and one after. The first memories I have of Dad are when I was very young, I would wait for him to walk up the road when he had finished work and I would run to meet him, he would swing me up and carry me home. I was a Daddy's girl. Mum says that as I got a bit older they used to call me "The news of the World" because by the time Dad got into the house he knew everything that had happened at home that day!

Dad worked for British Rail, as a guard on the trains. My older sister, brother and I liked to travel on the train in the guards van with Dad. We would watch him wave his green flag to tell the driver all the passengers were on and it was safe for the train to pull out of the station.
As a British Rail employee Dad was a member of the railway social club and we would go, on the train, to Faversham for a night out. At Christmas there was always a big party at the club and we had a lovely tea and a present from Santa.

In the summer the club would organise a day out and the dads would play cricket and we kids played in the paddling pools. Dad always enjoyed this family time.I remember my Dad baking bread. Every now and then we would wake on a Sunday morning to the wonderful aroma of freshly baking bread. One year Dad made Hot Cross buns, they were the size of dinner plates and tasted delicious. I don't know where Dad learned his baking skills, perhaps his mother, my Nan. She was always baking. Although as a Northern family I wouldn't have thought the menfolk were encouraged to cook, surely that would have been considered "women's work"!

I think I must have been about 9 or 10 years old, when Dad decided that he would get rid of the coal fires in the house. He bricked up the grates and then decided to climb up on top of the roof to take the chimneys down. Well, I am sure there are safer ways of removing chimneys! I recall Dad hanging on to the chimney whilst hitting it with a huge sledgehammer. My mother was terrified as she watched from below. Luckily it was only the chimney that came down and not Dad.

Family holidays were usually taken in Devon and Cornwall. Dad didn't drive and the train journey made going on holiday more exciting. You might think we would have been blase about train travel, but I, for one loved it. When we arrived at our destination we would take a huge black taxi to the caravan site. Just about every holiday Dad would bury us kids in the sand, right up to the neck! or build a rowboat in the sand. I am not sure who had the most fun, the children or the parent. Dad was a child at heart.

Every Saturday we used to go shopping in town, and every Saturday Dad stopped off at the local bookmaker to place his bets. Saturday afternoon you couldn't get a word out of Dad except the "Go on boy, go on!" as his horse approached the winning post. When we were a bit older Dad would always ask us to pick a horse on Grand National day. I felt very grown up.

Mum and Dad gave some wonderful parties. I can still hear the neighbours joyful, if a little intoxicated singing as Dad mixed their drinks slightly stronger than he should have. Dad's favourite line was when he asked my mother, who's name is Iris if she would like a drink. He never failed to get a laugh when he told her "Pass your glass I". It still makes me smile even now as I write.

I remember Dad as easy going, he seemed to be content with his lot. Yes he could lose his temper, he was human. And one thing I know which had a profound effect on me was the way he called me "Thick" or "stupid". He never meant it literally, I'm sure, it was just a throw away remark when I did something wrong. But I grew up believing I was, in fact thick and stupid.

These are some of my childhood memories of my Dad. I could go on but I will stop at this point. I will write about my grown up memories in another blog. I will finish this one by saying, I loved my Dad and I still miss him.

Eagle eyed? Not!

When I came downstairs to the kitchen this morning the sun was big and bright yellow, casting a warm glow over fallen leaves in shades of Autumnal golds and oranges. I opened the back door to let Zak (our scruffy but adorable mutt) out and noticed the birds on the roof of the house opposite. Nothing unusual about that, I hear you say. Well no. Except that the birds in question are in fact Peacocks!

Surprised? I'm not. This is a common sight here. Until we moved here I thought peacocks lived on farms or in parks. But we have five peacocks that wonder down our road on an almost daily basis. Well actually one peacock, one peahen and three immature males. I am not sure what a young peacock is called, probably just a chick.

Many of our neighbours feed these majestic, rather pompous looking creatures. In fact the mature cock has a name. George, which I think is fitting as he is rather regal.

Another bird we were excited to see when we moved into our house, was an eagle owl. Yes, an eagle owl, perched on a telegraph pole just yards from our kitchen window. Philip and I were amazed and rushed for the binoculars. We focused on the bird and were watching it for at least ten minutes before we realised.... it is made of plastic! The owl is supposed to be a deterrent to other birds. The telephone company perched him there because the starlings were causing problems on the wires. Oh boy! did we feel silly! Still, we laughed and when we tell our family and friends the story they laugh too, at us probably.