five years

Five years ago today, I met Greg - and the boys and Anthea shortly before that, Mrs H shortly before that. It seems simultaneously like I've known them all forever and like it can't possibly have been that long.

Time is a strange thing.

It passes more quickly when you're happy, but when I look back on happy times, most of them seem oddly protracted, taking up a larger portion of my memory than they factually ought to, while most of the worst ones seem jammed up together as if they happened in the space of seconds. They don't have any less weight than the happy ones do (more sometimes, depending on the day), but they don't seem to take up as much room as they used to.

A lot of that is because of Greg and his love and patience. And the quiet times spent browsing the internet on the sofa together looking for terrible Christmas socks for Mycroft. Or riding the bikes somewhere. Or just eating dinner together. There's a peace to my life with him now that I not only never had before but could not even imagine until...probably two or three years after I met him.

Thank you, Greg. I love you. 

national poetry day

So, it's National Poetry Day. A while ago, I posted Tu Fu to Li Po by Carolyn Kizer, and as Tu Fu and Li Po were both real people and poets, I thought I'd post some of their work today.


It's been so long since I headed for East Mountain—
how many times have the roses bloomed?
White clouds have scattered themselves away—
and this bright moon – whose house is it setting on?

—Li Po

They see you're staying in a mountain temple,
in Hang-chou—or is it Yueh-chou?
In the wind and grime of war, how long since we parted!
At Chiang-han, bright autumns waste away.
While my shadow rests by monkey-loud trees,
my soul whirls off to where shell-born towers rise.
Next year on floods of spring I'll go downriver,
to the white clouds at the end of the east I'll look for you!

—Tu Fu

Moonlight in front of my bed—
I took it for frost on the ground!
I lift my eyes to watch the mountain moon,
lower them and dream of home.

—Li Po


Li Po was the wandering sort, I suppose. He always seems to be far from home in his poems.

In other news, I think my phone case is infested with tiny bugs. Not the listening sort, although I do sort of...tend to assume that Mrs H can hear every word I say at all times. Actual literal bugs. Very small. Sort of gnat like. I think they're eating it. It's a plastic case, but it's covered in fabric, and that's the only thing I can think of that might be attracting them. I like the fabric though; makes it easy to keep a grip on the phone even in less than ideal conditions, like 90% of my life and 100% of my working life.

So if I get rid of this one, I'll probably end up with another fabric one. And more bugs in a year or two? Surely this can't be a common problem though or the internet would be full of weeping and wailing and gnashing of teeth over it.

Anyhow, I'm going to peel back the fabric a bit. If a flood of horrifying bugs pour out, I'll try to take pictures. 

mainly a picture post

First off, here is the garlic I mentioned getting out late from allotment. It's a little small and a bit bitter from being harvested too late (maybe? I'm guessing; maybe it's just not dry enough yet, though it seems to be), but there's plenty to plant next year, see if it goes any better. I think you're meant to have them out by the end of July. 

The rest of these are by L, including a very nice apple tree that is not ours. It would be nice to have though if one would fit. What do you think, Greg? (In the allotment, not in the house. I know someone is going to say something. I do not currently plan to grow fruit inside.)

And here are pictures from the Walkie Talkie...

Mycroft's back to school on the 8th, so L and I have been talking about going away somewhere for a short trip after that since we didn't want to spend our anniversary away from the boys right before they left (an excellent decision by the way, that dinner they cooked for us was amazing). 

I've been looking into a few places without telling L, but I don't want to spoil the surprise... Not quite yet at least. 

various pink things

It turns out it's actually impossible to get beetroot juice off of even a cooperative cat. Maf is now slightly pink and will be for some time.

Sherlock is going through a phase where he doesn't like beetroot - I'm sure he loved it just six months ago? - and attempted to feed it to the dogs. Not unsurprisingly, the dogs also don't enjoy beetroot. So there it was on the floor, and the story is understandable up until this point, but then I can only assume that Maf rolled in it, because she got herself absolutely covered and looked like a small reddish tiger when I found her lurking on top of  a bookcase.

I took her to the sink and did my best to get it off, but all I can really say I got for my efforts is that she doesn't smell like beetroot anymore and she isn't leaving smudges on the furniture.

It still went considerably better than the last time I tried to bathe a cat. I was looking after a neighbour's white Persian while she was away, and the cat (Pompom) tripped me up while I was carrying a plate of spaghetti and tomato sauce. Pompom was unhurt but quite covered in sauce. I sprained my ankle and spent the next two hours limping after her around the flat and finally wrapping the more dangerous parts of her in a towel while I rinsed her off. Maf was an angel by comparison. Definitely one of my better patients.

Also here's a photo I've been meaning to post for a while. Wild strawberries creeping into the allotment:

They're very tiny and very tart - or they were. They're long gone now. Birds and Sherlock finished them off ages ago. Which reminds me, I've worked out why our pink blueberry bush never makes any blueberries: it needs a mate. It can't pollinate itself. So we're working on that. I don't know if it can cross pollinate with normal blueberries, or what the results would be if it did (purple? magenta? probably just blue I would guess), but I'm trying to find another pink one. Sherlock is excited all over again. 

venice

Greg texted me from work today to ask if I wanted to go to Venice this weekend. As in, the day after tomorrow. I got the text while I was trying, along with a police sergeant, to corral a large angry cat who had mauled an intruder. I'm not quite sure how that got to be our job - I expect we didn't step back fast enough when someone asked for volunteers.

I read it in a quiet moment in between cat-catching and treating the claw marks on the man's face. He lucky he didn't lose an eye. That cat had some strong feelings about him. Anyway, I was a little distracted so I just stared at it for a moment, typed back 'yes' and got on with my day.

It actually wasn't until I got home (to find dinner waiting, because my lovely husband got home first) and got leapt upon by a much smaller friendlier cat and a larger friendlier Sherlock (and my husband, who licked my face in case I was missing the dogs at all) that I fully grasped the concepts of 'Venice' and 'two days from now'.

Me: What do you mean Venice this weekend?
Sherlock: We're going to Venice??????
L: *gives me a hopeless look that indicates that Sherlock is not coming and that he hasn't told him this yet* One of my cousins is getting married. We're invited. Might be a nice holiday?
Sherlock: We're going to Venice???????????
Me: All right, but...what do you mean Venice this weekend?????

In my defence, I'd just got off a 12 hour shift and worked pretty much all twelve hours of it. Turns out what he meant by Venice this weekend was that we're going to Venice this weekend. Who would've thought, eh?

Sherlock is, much to his horror and everlasting crankiness, not coming along, for various reasons, including my firm belief that he would manage to hurl himself or us into at least five canals. 

happy birthday, Mycroft!

I have explicit instructions this year not to post about how amazed I am at his age because: 'It happens every year, John, honestly. It cannot be a surprise.' I told him to wait till he was older, and he reiterated his intention never ever to reproduce. I pointed out that he would probably, once in a while, encounter children anyway, and he said he'd make it a point not to be amazed by the process of aging.

Fair enough.  I think he may possibly have mentioned this last year, but as I explained to him I am ancient and forgetful now,  and he'll have to be patient with me...

So I won't say I'm amazed, but I will say I'm proud of what an amazing young man he's grown into, of his patience and fortitude and of the effort he puts into everything he does. He's also great fun to have around and has somehow developed the ability to get Sherlock to listen to him, so he probably qualifies as a superhero at this point.

He also has exams to study for, so we've only got him for the the afternoon, but he'll be home for half term at the end of the month. I asked him what he wanted to do for his birthday, and he said he planned on donating his body for medical research...which is something you can do when you're 17, so I assume he's only signing up for it, not handing himself over immediately.

Before that though, we're all having lunch and going for a ride on the bikes if the weather's decent, fingers crossed.

Also I believe it's Mother's Day in the US, so happy Mother's Day to you - I hope it's a good one! 

the marathon des sables again

71 year old Sir Ranulph Fiennes finished the Marathon des Sables...

He described that penultimate day's walk as "more hellish than Hell". I suppose this means I can't complain about the one night we spent sleeping out on the trip... 

It was great though, the whole thing, including sleeping out (the teepees were quite nice really, and the barbecue was delicious), despite the blisters, which everyone got but only Sherlock complained of. Note to Mycroft and Greg: there is such a thing as being too stoic. Then again, Sherlock probably complained enough for everyone - well, perhaps complained isn't the right word, so much as discussed. There was more interest than whinging, and he wanted to show everyone the huge one on his heel. And why don't dogs get blisters? Well, he probably wouldn't either if he walked everywhere barefoot. He wanted to try. It didn't last long. 

The wall was...really something. It looks fairly ordinary, but the more you walk along it and think about how long it's been there, what's happened since it was built, the more it has a sense of presence, almost like a living thing. Or at least a collection of human experience contained in stone.  

We're home now. I always feel a bit strange coming home from a trip, like part of me's stayed behind. It's always a transition. Trying to catch up to my normal life again. Doing the laundry usually sorts it out, but I still feel a bit absent today, and it wasn't for lack of laundry (believe me, there was a lot). I'd like to go back there at some point. 

holidays

We'll have Mycroft and Anthea and the slobber twins (that's unfair, they don't actually slobber that much) home this Saturday for a good long while. We're thinking of going up to walk along some of Hadrian's Wall, although perhaps with more B&Bs than camping. Sherlock says it's not that cold, and he's right, it's not that cold, but he's young and has bones made of rubber (medical fact, trust me, I'm a doctor) that won't set up immovably from sleeping in the cold on the ground. Also he doesn't care about the availability of beer and warm food, whereas L and I care a great deal.

So there's that. L's head is much better, thanks everyone for your concern. I did my best to keep him in one place for five minutes and get him to rest a bit. Or, as he puts it, chained him to the sofa and weighed him down with a cat. She does get amazingly heavy when she doesn't want you to move, but the dogs would've been more effective. Next time...

Mycroft sent us a photo the other day of Anthea dressed all in black with the hounds on either side of her in an early morning mist. It's no wonder she makes all the boys there a bit nervous. It's probably good for them (and I feel fairly certain she enjoys it). I'm trying to save her some of L's dragon biscuits, but it's hard going. By which I mean I really want to eat them. He could probably make more, right?

Things have been mostly quiet, but at work a few days ago I did end up treating bite wounds in someone's house who had a massive salt water fish tank and an octopus named Dog who supposedly once ate a severed finger. I never got the full story, but I can only assume that the people who live in that house lead far more exciting lives than we do - I knew there had to be someone out there who did. And you see, Sherlock? This is why (among so many other reasons) we can't have an enormous aquarium the size of a small room. I don't want an octopus eating my severed finger. 

ever green

We've been back for a while, but things have been, as usual, slightly intense around here so I'm just getting pictures from the trip up now. Think I'm getting a cold as well. Unusually good timing for it, since Mycroft will go back to school tomorrow evening and Sherlock will be back to school on Monday. I'll try not to give them a virus to take back with them. 

At any rate, here is the very green bathroom: 

The place we were staying:

Our future residence, I mean, a houseboat: 

Distant seals, easier to see than to photograph:

Sitting room with jigsaw puzzle: 

Not pictured: madly squeaking bed or L in fits of laughter due to squeaking bed. I almost wish I'd recorded the sound, but at the same time am very glad I didn't because I know L would find...opportunities...to play it. When I'm least expecting it. 

And now I need to go and listen to Sherlock tell me about Alnwick Poison Garden and why we should go there immediately. 

glitter and chickens

Here's a completely insane and dangerous race that we wouldn't have to actually run... It's 5600 miles through South America. You can do it on motorcycles if you want to. What do you think, Greg? (I already know what you think, Sherlock.) (Mycroft is a mystery to me on this score. Sometimes he thinks we're all mad and then I'll find him and Sherlock planning a rafting trip on the Amazon together with maps and flight schedules.)

Greg was talking in the comments of the other post about moving out somewhere we could have goats and alpacas (why alpacas?) eventually, and I said what about chickens, and I was thinking of the ones that lay blue eggs, but when I went looking for a picture of them, I found this...

...which is a Silkie and does not lay blue eggs, but just look at it. I'm not entirely sure it's not an internet hoax, to be honest, but I want one. Several. 

Unrelatedly, I feel like many of you may have heard of this, but... shipyourenemiesglitter.com

Does just what it says, and the FAQ is amazing. 

Q. Is this for real?
A. Yes, you fucking idiot. We spent too much time, money & resources putting this shit hole of a website up to not get paid for it.

Thanks to Sherlock, I have an unfortunately intimate knowledge of glitter, and I'm not sure I hate anyone this much, but if I did... 

and a happy new year

Well...the holidays have gone by for another year. We have a fresh start, insomuch as anyone ever does with the weight of our lives trailing out behind us. Sherlock and Mycroft are still with their mum, L has gone to work, and the dogs are looking pitifully up at me as if they haven't been walked for weeks when in fact I took them out just an hour ago. But they're booooooored, can't I see they're boooooored? And when will Mycroft be home? And why doesn't Maf want to play?

Maf doesn't want to play so much that she has installed herself on the mantle and is looking down on everyone with her tail twitching back and forth like a pendulum. Occasionally one of the dogs comes to stare sadly up at her and she fluffs up her tail and takes a half hearted swipe at his nose.

Although it's no longer the season for Christmas jumpers, I am wearing the one that my husband lovingly/mockingly purchased for me. I think it's very nice, and if he didn't want me to wear it all winter (although possibly not out of the house), he probably shouldn't have bought it for me, right? 

Also, one of Sherlock's presents arrived late, yesterday before the boys left, and he said I should put up a picture of it, so here it is. An antique human tooth from a collection being sold off. He was very pleased with it. 

I hope you are all equally pleased with your holidays, and a happy new year to you all!