winter draws on...
It's snowing outside, and the cat has decided that now he only moves from one warm place to another. On the other hand, he doesn't yell at us quite as much as he used to, perhaps he's beginning to understand that 'softly, softly catchee monkey'.
The cows are back under cover, round the back of our house, and there has been quite a lot of fairly high decibel protest. This seems to have quietened down, maybe even cows aren't so dumb that they realise that they're better off out of the snow. One welcome sight and sound that we are getting a lot of now is the return of the migratory geese; great skeins of heavy birds against a sullen grey sky, and the distant sound of their chatter is a cheering sight on a winter day. The Arts correspondent was putting her car to bed one clear and frosty night, and was enchanted to hear the sound of a flock passing overhead
Although we've been having very clear nights, there has, as yet been no sign of the northern lights, we live quite near the University of Lancasters magnetometer, but sadly there has been very little sunspot activity this year. We live in hope, and as they now offer a text alert service as well as the e-mail warnings, there is a better chance that we might get to see them.
http://www.dcs.lancs.ac.uk/iono/aurorawatch/rt_activity/
big feller bockus, you squeeze him, he cry...
The Arts correspondent and I were invited to an evening of entertainment at our local school hall, as I am still more than a little confined to barracks, we thought this would be a diversion (and there was to be a raffle).
The principle entertainer was a gentleman of a certain age who sang songs in a powerful and occasionally tuneful baritone, and also told off-colour jokes. The songs were either sentimental, or comic (much shoogling aboot in auchtermuchty, you know the kind of thing), his jokes were so bad that they were funny, and his presentation was so bare faced that you couldn't help liking him, even when he emerged dressed as a policewoman. Rather strangely, his material was all about the central belt, he plainly came from, or lives in Pitlochry, and I did find it a little odd that he made no effort to give his jokes more local content. Still, I seemed to be the only one who found this a bit peculiar, so who am I to judge.
His stalwart accompanist battled manfully with a large accordion, occasionally emerging from the twilight at the rear of the stage to indulge us with solo items from the Jimmy Shand book of tunes. Completing the line up was a singer from Falkirk, who sang Burns songs very nicely (despite the rumpty-tumpty accompaniment), and performed less well with the more sentimental stuff. Finally, there was a fearsome and solid lady Pipe Major and her solemn and equally solid daughter who did scottish country dancing. Said Pipe Major also performed solo, although the accordionist managed to produce an extra-ordinary sound to accompany her, not unlike plucking a live chicken.
In the second half, she performed her 'novelty' numbers; every time I hear the Remembrance day service, I am reminded that the pipes, fearsome and special though they undoubtedly are, have a strictly limited set of notes, and as they butcher the Skye Boat song yet again, I wonder why they bother. A similar caveat might equally well be applied to 'How much is that doggy in the window?', which, when rendered by the pipes is more readily distinguishable by the rhythm than the tune.
No matter, the audience had a lovely time, much money was raised for good causes, and we won a picture frame of unspeakable hideousness in the raffle. That, I suspect, is our duty done for the time being.
Labels: pidgin english
the daily battle...
Now that winter nights are fair drawing in, the cat has begun to realise that down at one end of the house there is a cosy warm bed, usually with two warm bodies occupying it. This has resulted in some terrible late night tantrums when he is confined to the living room (for those among you who might think we are being cruel I should just point out that he has the choice of a cat basket in the kitchen with a retired cashmere jumper to sleep on, or a persian salt bag stuffed with goose feathers in the living room, both are next to storage heaters).
This being a farm, activity starts at daylight, and we generally stir quite early, mostly to put the radio on and subside back into drowsiness until we actually have to get up. The cat has taken this to be an invitation to interract, and starts to shout the place down at the first sign of life. He can usually be placated with breakfast, but if you aren't quick enough, he'll have a trough, then follow you back to bed. As I am still on crutches, he has time to eat a three course meal, and will still beat me, so the Arts correspondent has been taking on those duties. If, however we don't let him come to bed for a bit, he will try to break down the door.
Once he gets his way, he jumps up onto the bed and curls into an inoffensive ball, purring politely whenever any attention is paid to him. The battle of wills comes once the Arts corrspondent has gone to work and I get up to do my physio exercises, the cat studiously ignores the wierdness with giant rubber bands etc, and pretends that he is not there. When the time comes to evict him, however, it is less easy, he can be gently lifted off the bed and propelled in the direction of the door, but then I have to get up on my crutches during which he scuttles past me and jumps back onto the bed. I then have to kneel down on the bed to evict him again (poking with a crutch has no effect, gone are the days when they scared him), and while I am getting up, he runs past me again. Repeat several times, adding variations like; hiding behind the curtains, under the table, bed etc, and you have my morning. Needless to say, once I have finally succeeded in getting him out of the bedroom, he goes straight to the saltbag, and curls up as though nothing has happened.
For those who appreciate these things, this is one of my favourite National Film Board of Canada animations;
http://www3.nfb.ca/animation/objanim/en/films/film.php?sort=cc&id=17537or if it isn't playing
http://www.metacafe.com/watch/27652/the_cat_came_back/
