National Shed Week

I think someone on Radio 4 said, on Sunday, that this week is National Shed Week. If this is true, it will probably be of great importance to Younger Son.
When he was in his teens, YS was very keen on animals, so eventually we had 13 rabbits, various mice, rats, hamsters, gerbils, chipmunks, chinchillas and probably many other small furry creatures that I have now forgotten about. (Notice I am not including the water snake in this, as that belonged to Elder Son.) Oh, and then there were the fish, lots of them in the huge pond that he constructed, so huge that I had to tread water whenever I hung out the washing.
However, the link to National Shed Week is that YS had three of them. Birthday and Christmas presents tended to be shed-related for a few years and, as well as providing homes for the multiplicity of small animals, they provided a valuable opportunity for him to learn and develop carpentry, building and electrical skills.
So, I hear you surmise, he's probably got his own pet shop by now. Well, actually no; he works in an office. But he does have an allotment, presumably with at least one shed on it.
Funny how things turn out...

Chickens

Elder Daughter has acquired some hens, three to be precise. They are ex-battery rescue hens, but although their feathers are a bit straggly in places, they are not in bad shape. Some arrive so badly pecked and plucked that they have to wear little woolly jumpers until the feathers grow back. These have names too, and personalities, apparently...
Meet Babs, Bette and Talulah, the Mother Cluckers! (Her wording, not mine, ;))

Northern Rock bonuses

Northern Rock employees are apparently about to receive large bonuses, for having met targets for repaying the £26 billion loan from the government, which of course, translates into the £26 billion loan from you and me, the poor, benighted tax-payers. They deserve this, it is said, because they have 'worked exceptionally hard in extremely difficult circumstances.' I'm sure they have, just as I'm sure lots of people in other jobs throughout the country have, even to the point of agreeing to reductions in their hours so that colleagues would not be made redundant and being forced to take weeks, even months off work in order to avoid losing their jobs.
Once again, this is an example of how banks and other financial institutions appear to lead a charmed life, with no consequences no matter what actions they take.
Call me naive, but I, in my simplicity, would have thought that those members of the public who have chosen to save their money with Northern Rock since its nationalisation have played at least some part.

Gas bills

So British Gas are about to graciously reduce our bills by 10%. Good of them considering it is now (hopefully) near the end of winter and that a few months ago they increased them by an eye-watering 35%.

Spring on its way?

New Year is the time for new resolutions, a fresh start, kicking oneself into shape. Well, that's what they say. I tend not to make New Year resolutions as I either forget them or decide they're a bad idea within weeks or even days. However, I had decided to take myself in hand exercise-wise before Christmas and for me, that means mostly doing more walking. I have a couple of problems with this, though.

1. The weather at this time of year - not always conducive to my faltering motivation.

2.. I need a dog to walk with. It's nearly three years now since Lucy died and I do keep wishing I had another now. Dog rescue centres are few and far between around here but I'm not rushing and I'm hoping it will happen sooner or later.

Anyway, back to the walking. One day last week, when the weather was fine, bright and sunny I decided to walk the almost-five-miles there and back to the chemist. You see, it just takes that first step - well, getting out through the door - that's after you've heaved yourself off the sofa. Easy, really - and well worth it, trust me! This is what the route to Coed Poeth looked like.

Oh, and it's uphill all the way.

RIP Beachhutman

I am writing this in a state of shock, as I have just learned from Flighty's blog that one of my favourite bloggers, Beachhutman, aka George has recently died. I first came into contact with George when I moved my blog to '20six', which later became Platform 27 and he sent me a welcome comment with an aside that he thought maybe I was a fellow Archers' fan. At that time, George was facing huge problems in his life, many of which he wrote about on his 'Wrangling Wrinklies' blog but gradually, he got his life back on course and began a great new life commuting between China and Spain.
My thoughts about George are that he was an intelligent, witty, sensitive man who was also very talented, as a writer and artist and, as he was only in his early sixties, I find it hard to believe that he is no longer with us. From what I can gather from his blog, he fell ill with 'flu which proved to be far worse than originally thought.
I'm sorry I never met you in reality, George but I feel I have lost a friend. The blogging world is strange like that.

St Peter and the Blonde

TK hasn't sent me any 'blonde' jokes lately, but now he has. Enjoy.
A Blonde was sent on her way to Heaven. Upon arrival, a concerned St Peter met her at the Pearly Gates.
'I'm sorry,' St Peter said; 'But Heaven is> suffering from an overload of goodly souls and we have been forced to put up an Entrance Exam for new arrivals to ease the burden of Heavenly Arrivals.'
'That's cool' said the blonde, 'What does the Entrance Exam consist of?'
'Just three questions' said St Peter.
'Which are?' asked the blonde. 'The first,' said St Peter, 'is, which two days of the week start with the letter 'T' '? The second is 'How many seconds are there in a year?' The third is 'What was the name of the swagman in Waltzing Matilda?' 'Now,' said St Peter, 'Go away and think about those questions and when I call upon you, I shall expect you to have those answers for me.'
So the blonde went away and gave those three questions some considerable thought (I expect you to do the same). The following morning, St Peter called upon the blonde and asked if she had considered the questions, to which she replied, 'I have.'
'Well then,' said St Peter, 'Which two days of the week start with the letter T?'
The blonde said, 'Today and Tomorrow.'
St Peter pondered this answer for some time, and decided that indeed the answer can be applied to the question. 'Well then, could I have your answer to the second of the three questions?' St Peter went on, 'how many seconds in a year?'
The Blonde replied, 'Twelve!'
'Only twelve?' exclaimed St Peter, 'How did you arrive at that figure?'
'Easy,' said the blonde, 'there's the second of January, the second of February, right through to> the second of December, giving a total of twelve seconds.'
St Peter looked at the blonde and said, 'I need some time to consider your answer before I can give you a decision.' And he walked away shaking his head. A short time later, St Peter returned to the Blonde.
'I'll allow the answer to stand, but you need to get the third and final question absolutely correct to be allowed into Heaven. Now, can you tell me the answer to the name of the swagman in Waltzing Matilda?'
The blonde replied: 'Of the three questions, I found this the easiest to answer.'
'Really!' exclaimed St Peter, 'And what is the answer?'
'It's Andy.'
'Andy??'
'Yes, Andy,' said the blonde. This totally floored St Peter, and he paced this way and that, deliberating the answer. Finally, he could not stand the suspense any longer, and turning to the blonde, asked 'How in God's name did you arrive at THAT answer?'
'Easy' said the blonde, 'Andy sat, Andy watched, Andy waited 'till his billy boiled.'
And the blonde entered Heaven...