Tungsten

In the local market town there is a garden shop which I get my bird seed from. I like it because it’s super cheap. Even cheaper then the Pound Shop. I especially like going in the shop during October. That’s when they give away the out of date flower seeds. Just 9 months ago I walked out of the shop with a bag of bird seed and pockets stuffed full with flower seeds. This little beauty cost me the price of feeding the birds for three months. A bargain and us Yorkshire Folk like those.

That’s my Dad, he is a muppet.”

That what Hawklad as a toddler thought of me. He sternly mentioned this to someone at the local zoo after his Dad had one of those moments…… Now wind forward to the present.

What on earth is that…”

If you think I’m trying that you are clearly madder than you look….

The muppet force still runs strong in you Dad….”

If you try to feed that to the birds then I will need to call the Bird Protection Society. “

Clearly he wasn’t impressed with my latest piece of baking art.

Trust me, that was the good side. It was a shocker. It had the soft, airy and bouncy feel of Reinforced Tungsten. Understandably even the birds refused to eat it. I wonder if the builders across the road would like to use it as foundation material. I’m not sure that thing is ever going to break down. Like I’m not sure Im ever going to grow out of my muppet stage….

Heatwave

Summer….

Whisper it very quietly. We are due to get a heatwave. Ok it’s only lasting ONE day. But it’s still a heatwave. On Friday we are due to get to 28C (82F). Wow. Better enjoy it. 24 hours later we are back to 18C (64F). Wow. No thermal underwear for a whole day…

Maybe heavily padded underwear is a better option…

Its was that dreaded feeling. It’s the day for the garden waste collection and yes the bin was empty. As I pay £30 a year for this service I want to get my moneys worth – it’s a Yorkshire thing. Also it’s embarrassing if we are the only house in the village without the bin outside, full of garden trimmings. That’s the sort of behaviour that gets you drummed out of here.

So it was time to cut the hedge. That’s the big hedge. All was going well with the chainsaw until I came to cutting the very top. How to reach that high up without a ladder. So the clearly very safe plastic garden chair was deployed. Within minutes the inevitable happened. Trying to overreach and the chair toppled over. Not great when the chainsaw is in full swing. I would like to say that I performed a beautiful gymnastic roll, landing perfectly on my feet. In practice a large expletive was followed by a muppet landing on his bottom with the ballet poise of an out of control lemming. All this while desperately trying to remember how to switch the menacing blade off. That switch off was not completed until I was finally sat on the ground. No damage done. Well apart from the two new impact hollows in the lawn and the even bigger bruises on my posterior. Following on from the earlier collapsed cycle bruise, I certainly won’t be sitting on any unpadded surfaces for a few days. Oh for some well cushioned pants…

Labels

It’s yellow rose time.

It’s simple being a rose. Just got to worry about getting the colour of the petals right. Can’t have a White Rose suddenly going red. That’s just a no no in Yorkshire. Would I trust myself to be a rose – probably not. Hopefully the gardener would attach a label to remind me what colour I needed to be.

For the last few years I’ve labelled myself. First of all I labelled myself as a WIDOW. Initially I was a YOUNG WIDOW but the young bit was stretching the truth a little too far. I was also labelled a SINGLE PARENT. Son also correctly labelled me a MUPPET.

I can think of a few other labels I could go for but sadly they would not be widely accepted…

  • Chef
  • Gardener
  • DIY expert
  • Multilingual
  • Musical
  • 6ft tall
  • Thor like.

I can think of a few more labels which are more applicable to me..

  • I’ve been called a Socialist before – with some of my views, I probably am,
  • Plant Killer – oh yes,
  • Weapons Grade Cook – can’t argue with that,
  • Metal Head/Headbanger – the cd collection and the Iron Maiden T-shirt gives that away,
  • Newcastle United Fan – otherwise known as a Loser….
  • Little Bro – yes I am the youngest sibling but bizarrely I am the tallest…

But last week I was reading a post by a wise blogger who can actually call himself a gardener. Suddenly I came across another label. A label which potentially fits as well.

BACHELOR

I call myself a widow but in the eyes of the law, I am not. We were together for nearly two decades. Living as close as any couple. But we never got round to get married. We (I) thought we had plenty of time. My worst ever call. Going to take that mistake with me to my grave.

So given that fact then yes I am kinda a BACHELOR. It doesn’t sound right to me. It’s bizarre that until last week I would never have thought that label applied. Never crossed my mind. I know that I’m starting to overthink this. It’s only a silly label. It’s what’s in the heart that matters. But it did unsettle me for some reason.

Does WIDOWED BACHELOR sound any better.

Conversations

Sorry this is a couple of days late. The new WordPress editor took a dislike to this post and it’s taken two days to fix it.

Well a bit of blue sky and no rain is a start. Even the wind has eased. Feels almost like Autumn now.

Two conversations have rather defined this autumnal feeling day. The first one with the dentist.

I finally managed to speak to my Dentist about my chipped back tooth. In a nutshell this is what the Dentist said.

  • The practice partly reopens tomorrow.
  • They have a huge backlog and waiting list.
  • They are allowed to start looking at emergency cases but won’t be able to do much with them. Basically just temporarily patch them up. No drilling or aerosol inducing treatments allowed.
  • They will get back to me when they can have a look at it. But the repair will be some time. Dependent on getting the go ahead from the Government.
  • The Government is a shambles. Just making things worse.

So basically just got to grin and bear it. Will add temporary dental fixes to my increasing list of almost skills. It’s quite bizarre that the UK’s Health Minister is spending more time and energy on getting Horse Racing going than be is on helping out the NHS and Dental services. It’s amazing what being funded by the Horse Racing Industry does for a persons priorities.

The second conversation involved a muppet but not our Health Minister thankfully.

Dad remember when we worked out that you are 25% human and 75% muppet.”

75% is probably understating the muppetry.

Well Dad I’ve been trying to work out which muppet DNA runs through you.”

Well when I used to go and watch Newcastle United play footy. When I say ‘play’ I should say ‘get beat’ at footy. Me and my friend would just sit and slag off our own team. We were definitely the two old muppets in the audience. Waldorf and Statler.

Ok but now you don’t go anymore then they don’t count. I am seeing three muppets in your DNA. First one is Beaker. That expression and the hair sticking up is just so you..”

“The second muppet I see in you has to be Fozzie Bear and those terrible jokes of yours..”

“The final muppet in my Dad is definitely Animal. You seem to approach everything. Things like cooking, gardening, hairdressing with the same care and attention that Animal approaches life..”

I can’t argue with this assessment, although I am a little disappointed not to have a little bit of Miss Piggy in me. Now do I trust Animal with this emergency dental kit…

*****Photos from Wikipedia******

Windy with a hint of muppets.

Please remind me not to try and take a closeup photo during a wind storm. It’s not easy. It’s been a typical Yorkshire May Day. Two jumpers (sweaters), woolly hat and retrieving garden furniture from the farmers field.

A fantastic blogger did a wonderful tribute to me by doing a post on her site, in my writing style. It’s funny reading about yourself in someone else’s words, finding out what I had done. Thank you Chelsea, you do me so much better than I do.

Chelsea’s post is so apt and spookily close to the mark. Outside eating with a hint of muppetry was definitely yesterday’s theme. We had decided to mark the start of the week off with a barbecue. Unfortunately the old bbq crumbled over the Yorkshire winter. My first attempt at building a replacement one didn’t go to well and rather scarily was built next to the oil tank. So when yesterday came…

Dad why don’t we just move the George Foreman grill outside like we said we would.”

No let’s have fun and build a fire on the lawn. A proper barbecue.

Not sure that’s a great idea. It’s a bit grey and very, very windy…”

Yes it was blowing a storm but surely man can overcome the elements. So yes we built a rather fine temporary fire structure at a much safer distance from the oil tank. I was quite impressed. It was loaded with what we had in terms of coal and wood.

How are you going to light it.”

Matches…. This is where the plan encountered its first problem. Yes we did find three matchboxes. A remnant from fireworks night. Unfortunately the boxes where full of used matches. Don’t you just hate that. I managed to salvage one complete unused match and one snapped one. So here goes. Problem two – the wind. Instantly both matches were been blown out. Problem three – living in a house with oil heating and an electric oven. We don’t need to light a fire so the house is bereft of spark generating options.

Ok Bear Grylls what are you going to do now. Time for the George Foreman yet.”

Spiriting up my inner Bear I located my camping flint and tried to create fire. Thirty minutes later – nothing.

Dad I will fetch the George Foreman. I’m starving.”

Too late, it started to rain. So eventually it was an indoor George Foreman feast. Today’s heartwarming life lesson

Once a Muppet, always a Muppet.