Christmas banter

Dad: let's have our meal a little later tomorrow..say 4pm? We can have nibbles at lunchtime.

Me: that sounds great

*pregnant pause*

Me: have we got nibbles?

Dad: ah. No, we don't.

Me: that could be awkward

Dad: yes, I suppose it could be.

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I was standing by the cooker creating our latest offering to the charcoal gods when a large spider loomed from underneath the appliance.

Me: look, a huge spider

Dad: oh yes, we aren't keen on spiders, I will remove him.

With that dad picked up the spider, walked him across the other side of the room and placed him under the dresser

Dad (responding to quizzical look from me): it seems a shame to put him outside in this weather

Me: well, it is christmas.

Spider continues strolling around by the dresser having enjoyed the free lift across the room.

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DAMP again

The car park looks a bit damp again.

Rest in peace my friend

Today a great man died. Tomorrow will start without him but how fantastic that he was alive and he and I, and many others, stood side by side. Oh comfort, stand by those he loved and who loved him and carry them through.

Lower Heyford–strange sight.

When this boat approached I couldn’t see the steerer but when it went by I realised the steerer was sitting down. By the time I had extracted my camera the steerer was standing up

He still couldn’t quite see so he had to clamber up a but higher – the perfect manoeuvre for a corner.

No more pictures because I got the giggles.

towpath for Voles

The towpath on the Oxford canal, in Oxford, was revamped a few years ago and it is great.  There were plans to extend it further up the canal but it turns out there are Water Voles.  The Oxford Mail writes about it here

Glorious daze

 

Meeting the boaters fame

Lucky Duck are doing a series called ‘meet the boaters’. Seems I am boater number 3.  If you want to get involved in the fun and games then do.

A pheasant Plucker

My father does not like waste.  This manifests itself in many ways, but mostly anything that is edible gets eaten – despite the mould.   My first memory of pheasant was being  ushered out the door to the next door neighbours house to deal with the, now hung, pheasant. 
I recall sitting on their hall floor with Mrs neighbour at one end of the sheets of newspaper and me at the other.  There was a pause followed by an amazing flurry of feathers as we plucked the birds.  For those of you unfamiliar with this task plucking involves the rapid transfer of as many feathers from the bird onto oneself.     I will spare you those details of gutting but it isn’t that dissimilar and tends to make the feathers stick better.
Yesterday I was coming down the road on my motorcycle and a pheasant was killed on the other carriage way. I stopped, picked it up and flung it over the handlebars.  I was feeling rather pleased as it could join the other pheasant that was put to hang the day before.  I set off at 50mph in serious smug mode.
50mph is a pretty good speed to pluck a pheasant.  It wasn’t long before my visibility was seriously impaired due to the flurry of feathers rising in the air. I eventually stopped in a parking spot and transferred my feathery friend, with it’s slightly bare tum, to the top box.
I have no doubt that the ethics of road kill are a complex subject  but I certainly think it would be wrong to leave something that is edible to rot. 

Out on the ledge

Stanage edge, a grit stone escarpment in the Peak District, is one of my favourite places.  Areas of Stanage were quarried in the past.  It is a wonderful place to sit and watch the world go by. I sat on this ledge and watched the world go by.  Stanage is excellent for climbing and it is wonderful watching the climbers at work.