The time has come," the Walrus said, "To talk of many things: Of shoes--and ships--and sealing-wax-- Of Shopping lists and things

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.

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).

Signs and portents (pic by Brigitte)

Pic by Brigitte

                                                                                            Pic by Brigitte

Also by Brigitte

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.

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…)

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.

Ok, no bulls this time....

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.

Whoops.....

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.

Rockpooling, snorkelling for the fainthearted...

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.

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.

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.