The things I learnt today

... that when you rush to work, leaving everything as per to the last minute - by which I mean loading the washing machine, feeding the dogs, rinsing the dishes so that there is a chance that the stay at home offspring will manage to wash them up properly much later in the morning, chucking bread ingredients into the bread maker so that the same offspring will have food for lunch, making hot chocolate for Littlest, taking the fed dogs out for a walk round the garden with poop-scoop toolage and wellies and a raincoat and actually remembering to eat breakfast and find vaguely matching, vaguely respectable attire that will vaguely 'do' for work - and you push the speed limit along country lanes to arrive on time. And you do arrive on time. Just. And after saying, "Hello," and "Isn't the weather awful?" the receptionist politely inquires, "You do know you start at nine?" And it's an hour earlier than nine. That salvation lies in a cup of freshly ground coffee and a cooling-off stroll in the rain.

... that little girls have the best sleep overs: a pile of neatly arranged, chatted to and named cuddly toys; pizza; soft cushions; fluffy blankets and a film with popcorn and hot water bottles. The latter because ... well - it's England, it's nearly June and the temperature is at the average for January.

... that I haven't rabbit-proofed enough of the garden. That Four-legged-rabbit-killer-friend is only interested when they are little or lame and therefore not requiring of too great an effort to catch. That Bertie Baggins disdains all things rabbity - apart from the small round tasty brown treats they scatter about the garden. And that rabbits unfortunately don't eat weeds which means that I am definitely becoming more a fan of Mr McGregor than Peter Rabbit. Which is probably a sign of increasing years ...

... that I don't know the difference between inquire and enquire and have probably got it wrong and will have to look it up. Again. And more worryingly, I look at my title and fleetingly think, 'should it be learned' ... but it is late, I can barely focus on the screen, and I do know the answer to that one!

... that an earlier bedtime would be a good idea

Comments

Colour, Delacroix, flochetage and why don't we all have a go at inventing words

Yes - it is a real word. Flochetage. Well, a real-ish word. One invented by the painter Delacroix, when he found the dictionary cupboard bare and required a word to describe his technique of layering different coloured paints, using lightly pulled brush strokes to create texture and pattern and thereby enhance his base-layer colours (... lost? - stick around, read on and all will become clear. Or perhaps muddier ...). Flochetage implies both stringiness and threadiness. Apparently. And it sounds good - in a filling-the-mouth-with-sound sort of a way. Try it ... flochetaaaage. Not that I speak French. So I am probably mis-pronouncing it. Nor am I an artist. So what do I know about painting techniques - except that I think this one works. What I do like is the concept - you invent a new technique in whatever it is you do, hunt around for the vocabulary to describe it, find the dictionary is lacking, so make up a word of your own and announce to the world what it means. Delacroix isn...

My beloved boy, how lucky I have been

It's an odd thing that when we are waiting for someone to die ... and I say someone here even though the one in question was a dog - but to us he had character and a place forever in our hearts and was more of a familiar someone than some of the people in our lives. So, I'll start again - it's an odd thing that when we are waiting for someone to die, our senses go into overdrive. We notice things that normally would be part of the background of our every day. We breathe more - or rather, we don't but what we do is notice our breathing more, as we watch his. We pause. We think. We listen to ourselves and our inner voices speak. Memories flood our dreams ... though sleep is fitful. Why am I telling you this? ... ... we lost this beautiful boy today And in the hours before he went, I saw perfect spheres of dew on blades of grass - little orbs holding micro-images of our world; a bumble bee drunk on nectar, yellow-dusted with pollen, resting in a crocus; ten - yes, ten! ...

Walking, wondering and not walking at all

We all walk. I walk every day. I also lie. I don't walk every day, as in I don't take the dogs for a walk every day. Poor boys, in this season of tax returns and desperate seeking of extra work and working to pay the tax bill, they are the losers. Four-legged-friend was looking distinctly skinny in his hind legs, when I brushed his coat while he wolfed down his supper this evening (he tries to eat the brush if I take it near him at any other time, so meal times have become grooming times). Oddly, I lose out on the walking too, but this fails to have the same effect on my 'skinniness'... Anyway, we all walk. We walked on Christmas day - Littlest and I walked at the weekend - Slowly. Time to appreciate the trees. Time to encourage the smelly boys into the freezing water. Time for the sun to go down. Time to walk very, very slowly - Littlest's finger phone was engaged throughout in deep discussion with the zoo warden - da...

Walking The Dog

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