Part not quite fourteen yet……..
I have a whole list of odd and esoteric things I wish to
acquire for myself and the house. It keeps altering and expanding. One of the
first things I should do is get my camera fixed. I hadn’t realised it was
broken until I tried it (it had spent some time in storage). I shouldn’t have
been surprised really, my younger daughter went through a phase of insisting
that it was hers because her father said it was…. Ummm, well it was never
his in the first place? This cut no ice whatsoever with
the hormonal horror and she persisted in taking it to all night parties to
document acts of drinking and debauchery.
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| Oh dear...... |
Of course she denied everything… even
when presented with the evidence which remained on the memory card. The camera
eventually developed an unhappy rattle and now it refuses to function at all
(yes, I have checked the batteries). Now I have no problem at all with my
camera phone, it has the immense advantage of convenience. However there is
very little I can do apart from point, click and hope. I would very much like a
decent optical zoom so that the obscure blob I attempt to document actually
resolves itself into an interesting bird/seal/boat or whatever. My friend has a
half decent camera, with which she takes wonderful pictures (often of the
weather funnily enough).
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| Signs and portents (pic by Brigitte) |
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| Pic by Brigitte |
Pic by Brigitte
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| Also by Brigitte |
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| In fact all of these amazing photos are by Brigitte ! |
In fact she has three cameras. This is due to a
misunderstanding regarding the mechanics of charging said cameras. She finally
purchased a waterproof camera in the belief that the local atmospherics were
too damp for normal technology. Actually, this isn’t an unreasonable
assumption, just inaccurate.
I would also like a telescope. Now and again the visibility
is good enough to be able to see beyond the bottom of the garden, and when it
is, there’s lots to look at.
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| This was not that day.... |
From twitching (from the comfort of my living
room) to stargazing (almost no light pollution, you can watch satellites and
shooting stars and argue about which is which) to spying on the neighbours (a
popular pastime in every neighbourhood). It also looks cool to have one, and a
lot of the more expensive houses on the market feature one in the living room
or conservatory. Not that one is trying to keep up with the Joneses or
anything…..
I really NEED some decent proper vegetable gardening books!
Why did none of mine warn me that newly cultivated ground has a propensity to
develop wireworms which eat your spuds before you can? Possibly because newly
cultivated ground is rare in England? How do I harvest seed potatoes? And what
about broad beans? I think I need a personal consultation with someone who
knows their vegetables! Calling all horticulturalists!!!! A week’s free bed and
board in the cottage in exchange for a plan of planting action for next
season???
I also need a brushcutter if I want any ground to plant
anything in. The brambles are doing marvellously and the wildlife is well
chuffed, however, the wildlife has half an acre of bloody wilderness up behind
the house! My rather girly strimmer is no match for the woody horrors at the
bottom of the garden, The house did come with a petrol strimmer, but the fuel
pipes have rotted, so all it does is piss fuel over the garage floor and refuse
to start (that’s another saga for later). Himself is somewhat cagey about
lending me his proper manly brushcutter. Ostensibly this is because it’s big
and scary and dangerous. In fact he bought it for me so that I could clear HIS
garden (which I did, half an acre of head height brambles, not to mention a few
saplings and bits of bike and shopping trolley). No, what he’s afraid of is
that it will vanish into the wilderness, never to be seen again. For the same
reason he will not lend me one of his chainsaws (with which I removed several
of his meatier saplings). I suppose I could offer to do what the bloke up the
road does, naked strimming….. Really. There is an oul fella a couple of miles
up the road from me who indulges in naked strimming (a form of S&M
perhaps?). Harmless enough in itself (don’t think about the thistles…)
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| These thistles even.... |
but a
bit eyewatering for the passengers of the tour buses which regularly pass his
garden, I suppose it gives them summat to take pictures of apart from all that
scenery. This may or may not be the same oul fella who takes his beergut with
him and frequents the local (unofficial) nudist beach. I came across him one
day (what possesses someone to go and get naked in public in order to sit and
read a book while the sandfleas migrate up your crack???) and the first thing
that sprang to mind was that sunburn there must REALLY sting! At least I have
nothing to dangle….
I would also like a very small video camera with which to
document my adventures both in Ireland and elsewhere for my mate. She would
love to go on long rambles, trespassing over walls and through bogs and
streams, but she can’t. I’d love to do virtual walks for her, complete with
running commentary. I do have a
tendency to go seriously
'off piste', choosing the twisted, steep and overgrown path rather than the
obviously tended and intended option because it looks more interesting (perhaps
I should spend more time considering why it is less travelled????). I have a
gift for getting creatively lost, up to my armpits in aggressive spiky
wilderness, being eyeballed by a bad tempered bull, from whom I am separated by
a small piece of (hopefully electrified) string.
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| Ok, no bulls this time.... |
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| But there were these scary donkeys. |
It would be a bit like the
Blair Witch project but scarier. I thought of this spiffing plan while
traversing the edge of a slippery precipice in Yorkshire. I suddenly realised
that I was standing on a steep slope carpeted in (slippery) rotting leaves,
about a foot from the edge of a 150 foot drop into a VERY shallow river.
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| Whoops..... |
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| Not deep enough for base jumping, not shallow enough to survive! |
This
was because the official path looked a bit dull….
I
would also like a waterproof camera. When I have been in tropical waters I have
loved to go snorkelling, but Irish waters have put me off due to their
inclement temperature. There’s no point in snorkelling off the East coast of
England, you can’t see your hand in front of your face! The weather turned
Mediterranean for my last week in Ireland and I came upon a mask and snorkel in
the charity shop… which prompted me to go and try it out. Even with a wetsuit
on I was loosing sensation in my extremities (up to my hips and armpits), but
it was worth it! I have no photos
though….because I don’t have a waterproof camera! Himself has donated a pair of
twenty year old fins (DON’T call them flippers or you will be subjected to an
hour long monologue on the subject, you have been warned!). I look like an
extra from an episode of Dr Who circa 1975, but the crabs don’t care.
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| Rockpooling, snorkelling for the fainthearted... |
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| Or those without a waterproof camera! |
Speaking
of crabs (not THAT sort), on the way back to the ferry Himself (who had graced
us with a flying visit) and myself stopped off for a picnic by the shores of
the lake at the bottom of my aunt’s garden. As it was all planned on the hoof I
had bought a rotisserie chicken on my way through town. I had intended to
picnic at the creek at the end of the lake, but on our way down we were stopped
by a pedestrian and informed that there wasn’t even room to turn at the bottom.
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| Popular because it feels like the Med???? |
As we were in the Landrover we executed a five point turn in the nearest ditch
while watching a low slung sporty model grapple with the twists, turns and
lumps as they attempted to reverse up the boreen. I don’t know if they ever
made it, but we stopped at a tiny deserted pier further down the road and
tucked in.
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| Our own personal pier :-)... With added crabs |
The thing about rotisserie chicken is that you are left with a lot
of bones. We threw a couple into the water and watched as the shore crabs
swarmed. First the shrimps would dive in and grab bits. This spread the aroma
and a few small crabs would soon arrive. This activity seemed to rouse the
larger crabs, and within minutes there were twenty odd green crabs scrapping
over a chicken bone. The fascinating thing about this behaviour was that they
seemed to continue scrapping, just for the sake of it, long after one of their
number had made off with the last tasty morsel. It was better than Eastenders!
Of
course, in order to store, edit and disseminate all this I will be needing a
new laptop (or iPad) as this old girl is in her dotage and requires winding up…
Offers welcome (Apple only please ;-D).
I
think a fishing rod might also come in handy, as I hope to catch mackerel and
smoke them. I have tried to scrounge one, but to no avail. I’m reluctant to go
out and buy one until I know that I can both catch and kill them (othewise I
may need a large fishtank). What do you call a pet mackerel anyway? My father
christened my first and only goldfish ‚Ophelia‘, which turned out to be rather
prescient. Of course, in order to get to said mackerel, one needs a vessel. Now
I do have a lovely little 14 foot clinker built sailing dinghy….. gathering
dust in a garage in Yorkshire. Until she is seaworthy (or I become too old and
infirm to sail her) I could use a sit on kayak, one which is small enough for
me to heave up onto the roof of my van without undue spectacle and
embarrasment. Suggestions on a postcard please?
And
finally… I would like a Tagine in which to cook all the veggies I hope to grow
and all the fish I hope to catch and all the bloody rabbits I intend to shoot…
Oh yeah, I’d like a .22 air rifle too please.
