Starting again

 So…. starting this blog again.  Hmm.  I want to make a record of the books I read in 2023, and an occasional catalogue of photographs I take and like - not because of any technical skill (there won’t be much of that from me, only from my iPhone), but just because I like them.  Today’s is an example - point and shoot, then turn it upside down.  I love it 🤪

Plague House 2

One of the Guinea pigs - Hershey - has had pneumonia.  If there's anything deliberately designed to make you feel helpless, it's illness in babies and animals.  You can't explain to them what's happening or why you're doing things.  They just look at you helplessly, and it's terrifying.   However, Hershey - after a stay in hospital and a vat of antibiotics - is on the mend and is probably thinking he's onto a good thing now, what with the best of the best hay and the freshest of the fresh vegetables!  

The humans seem to be recovering too.  It was like a conveyor belt of bleugh. So we knew what was in store by watching the one who got 'it' before us.  

And let's not forget 'the fall'. It was quite a sensation. Busby, I forgive you, but next time I'm holding onto a lead rope and the horse bolts, I hope I remember to LET GO OF THE ROPE.  

Paying for all the physio is a good memory jogger.

The Plague House

It's a very long time since I wrote anything. We have a lot of animals. That's my only excuse.

Snowball

Muffin

Hershey

Busby (the little Shetland) and Izzy

Little Tom

and four hens whose names escape me right now (which is very ungrateful of me - they lay the most delicious eggs, and one of them is blue!)

Then there's our newest addition, Dudley, a miniature pony, here sizing up the opposition

They're a lot of work. But we love them. (Whisper: especially Little Tom)

Oh, the Plague House? The animals are fine. The humans are in different stages of unwellness. 

KEEP AWAY. 

When you can't concentrate

It's winter here.  Normally I'm not here.  Normally I miss the winter, while I languish by a pool or wander through the Disney parks or take a road trip, all in the warm sunshine.  But this year I'm here. In the winter. And this year I've caught a cold.  With a cough. A hacking cough that has kept me awake for three nights straight.  I'm getting dizzy and not a little confused on occasion. So I've been comparing winter here with winter there. 

Here 

There

Here

There

Here

There

Here is family. There is a bunch of friends.  Here is noise and chaos and jobs to be done.  There is calm and order and laziness.  

Can someone remind me again why we didn't go back after Christmas??

New

It's cold and damp.  Must be January. 

Christmas was lovely.  

Airborne

Between flights I always forget completely how uncomfortable air travel is. 

At the start of a holiday, it's an inconvenience to be overcome, in order to get to a destination. So no matter how tedious and bone-crunchingly (or more to the point muscle-tighteningly) uncomfortable it is, there's always the holiday to look forward to.  

Coming home is slightly different. Yes, there's home and family and friends and pets to look forward to. But it's a night flight for us these times. And even with extra leg-room, three seats each to ourselves, head-phones, blankets, pillows galore, books, and music, nothing (nothing) can dull the engine noise (it roars, like white noise gone horribly wrong) and screaming babies. 

But oh what memories.

And what to look forward to - home. 

And Christmas. 

I think I can lie down and try and sleep now. Unless the dulcet tones of the captain get through the racket to announce turbulence and seat belts. 

Oh for the 'chance to dream'. 

....

I slept for one hour. 

Packing to leave means looking through some photographs. It does. Really.  With a nice cup of tea.

And some furry-ish friends. 

And some not so furry, or friendly.

What a time we've had. 

Okay. I'm going. One bag packed......