A Little More Conversation

True Story

Lord Mantle:  I like Francis Bacon.

Me:  Oh I don’t, he gives me the eebeegeebys.  If I was to write a critique of his work, or even a thesis entitled The Artistic Merits of Francis Bacon, that would be exactly what I would say, “he gives me the eebeegeebys”.  Except I am not sure how to spell it.

Lord Mantle:  E E B E E G E E B E E ‘ S

Lady Mantle and Myself in unison:  There is no apostrophe!

Lord Mantle:  Yes there is, by golly!

Lady Mantle replied alone.  This could quite easily escalate into one of their marital ding dongs which general end in a very messy cow pat flinging shoot-out.  For this reason, and not wanting to get between them if such a thing should happen, I thought it sensible to hold stum:  Definitely not, it doesn’t have anything belonging to it so consequently it doesn’t need one.

Me, before Lord Mantle could reply, trying to divert attention from the dangerous apostrophe:  I wonder if it ends in Y.

Lord Mantle who is easily sidetracked: Yes, Y ‘ S that would work

Me, unconvinced and cowardly:  Perhaps ……….

Lady Mantle takes deep breath and starts making strange whimpering noises whilst pawing the ground.

Me:  Shall we do some work now?

Post event note:  According to the Collins English Dictionary the word is spelt heebie-jeebies, and means a state of nervousness or jitters.  It was first used by the American cartoonist W. B. De Beck (1890-1942) in his comic strip Barney Google. 

We weren’t even close.  But there is definitely no apostrophe.

Best

A frosty morn; a road trip with Hero, warmed by winter mixture; a coffee rendevous with Torrington Tina, Rusty Duck and Mrs Bun; a lesiurely wander around sugar sifted gardens, enjoying the familiar and admiring the new; chickens and fir cones and deer and ferns; icy rills and the ghosts of water lilies; soup, cheddar and chatter; bargain buying; squashes and pak choi; conifers and grasses; reflections and back lighting; and laughter, of course, laughter.  Everything a trip to RHS Rosemoor with your friends should be.  And more.

Just when I thought things couldn’t get any better.

A ginormous disco ball hanging in a stately oak.

Six on Saturday – Guest Blog with Fat Ol

Before we begin let us get one thing straight, my name is not Fat Ol.  I am Perfectly Formed Ol.  Due to Gill being “too busy doing nonspecific important things” I have reluctantly agreed to stand in.  Between you and me, don’t tell a soul, she said (and this is a direct quote) “I can’t be bothered, you do the Six on Saturday, just waffle on a bit, no one will notice”.  Never one to baulk at a journalistic opportunity, I agreed.  To my mind it is about time a bit of class was introduced to the proceedings.  If you would like to discover more about the wonderful world of Six on Saturday, pop on over to the marvellous, nay inspired, blog of our master The Prop.  Her shirker self took these photographs as my delicate paws have trouble with the camera buttons, so I will have to make the best of what I am given.  Shall we proceed.

First we have a portrait of the gorgeous Me!  I think She might have been trying to photograph something else, but I pointed out the error of her ways.  A splendid shot I thought and looking rather swelte. Though I say it myself.

Next a rather boring shot, definitely lacking in the ginger department.  I believe it is called Lavandula pinnata.  Not much to see here.  Although I must admit it is flowering rather well at the moment and smells just lovely.

Now we have some under garments.  Specifically some new thermals.  I believe they worked very well.  I would have liked to show you her new longjohns, but unfortunately they have been censored, far too saucy.

Although I officially live next door, Gill’s garden is also my territory and therefore I am the one to come to for any insider information.  There is still plenty of jungle to crawl about in and hide and do other things that annoy her when she is weeding.  She always forgives me, especially as I blame my sister Daisy.  The agapanthus has had an unexpected last horrah.  It is looking a bit ragged.  I heard on Catlitter that last week her grumpiness had a problem with her spelling.  Embarrassing.  The Saliva ‘Phyllis’ Fancy’ is forming a perfect backdrop.  Cold weather on the way.  Things may well change.

The varietated wallflower is coming into its own now the surrounding show offs in pots have been snugged into corners.  Helpful as ever and, I am sure you will agree, such a lovely assistant, I helped by delicately pointing at the plant in question.

I keep telling her, “the watched nerine never boils” but still she stares and pokes and prods – when she should be stroking me!  Next week ……

That is my shift over, six of the perhaps not best but it’s all we’ve got.  ‘Til next time.

 

 

 

 

Restraint

Nancy Nightingale is not a woman of restraint.   The word does not come into her vocabulary.  It is one of the reasons that I like her.

The morning was spent planting some of the hundredweight of daffs, tulips, more daffs, iris and more daffs she has recently bought.   I am not totally without blame.  A few weeks ago I sat next to her as she pushed “buy” with increasing intensity, as I feebly whispered “I think that might be enough now”.  My entreaties were to no avail, she worked herself up to a purchasing crescendo and fell exhausted to the floor as her credit card exploded.

We planted in colourful trugs, painted metal planters, pots and in the borders.   And still there are more.  They will have to wait until next time.  My back may have recovered by then.

 

Six on Saturday – In Haste

Sorry folks, I am in a terrible rush today, so this is going to be heavy on the photos, light on the words.  Almost indetectable on the words.  Let us go, but don’t forget to pop over to The Prop’s site to find out what it’s all about Alfie.

First a cyclamen, a bit raged around the edges but that is the same for many plants in my garden.  Also for the gardener.

Now some “I should have bought them in for decoration but forgot” hydrangea heads.

Bulbs, in pots, but you will have to take my word for it, they could be just pots.  Muscari ‘Mount Hood and Tulipa orphanidea ‘Flava’.

Salvia elegans is always late on parade and I can never quite capture its true colour.

Going into its second winter, this pellie is not showing any signs of giving up.  I hope I haven’t just cursed it.

Lastly, a single flower spike of Nerine undulata.   Will it won’t it?  Hope so.

That is me done!  Must dash ……..

 

Stone Washed

Today Lord and Lady Mantle were called away on top secret business, possibly something to do with road testing custard slices, but I can’t be certain.  I was left to my own devices.  Dangerous you might think.  And I wouldn’t blame you.

By nature I am a flitter, jumping from one task to another and back again.  This doesn’t work well when you are working with other more methodical folk.  Being home alone meant I could dance around to my heart’s delight.  Two days of dry weather gave perfect seed collecting weather, if you discount the gale force wind.  I trimmed back the black elder and tree peony, allowing plenty of space for the soon to be on site Men with Machines who are going to trim/butcher the leylandii.  Pots of pelargoniums and dahlias were moved to the greenhouse, I dug up the black zantedeschia and chocolate cosmos to keep them company.  Weeds were ousted and prize winning compost incorporated.

They returned just in time for His Lordship to make me a quail toastie and pour me a pint of claret for lunch.  No one mentioned custard slices.  Mum’s the word.

Although there is still much colour in the garden, gazanias, alonsoa and osteospermums, I loved the muted, stone-washed tones of this lace-cap hydrangea.

Kindness

Social media tells me it is World Kindness day.  Sounds like a good thing.  Although I doubt the people who should be taking note are paying attention.  Still we must do what we can.

Today we had a day trip to the big city, well a city anyway.  We wore our best smocks held neatly in place with baler twine and caught the horse and trap into town.  After a wander around the shops, buying a few essentials, pitch forks and the like, we went to Zizzi’s for lunch.  We always go to Zizzis.  It is great.  If anyone from Zizzi’s is reading this and would like to reward my testimonial with an unlimited life time of pizzas, I would not refuse.   I am sure I could do better than “it is great” if I put my mind to it.

Although we were early, the restaurant was busy and our charming Italian waitress was a little flustered.  The meal was delicious and as we were about to leave she apologised for her tardy service.  She then explained that she was quite new to the job and hadn’t known it so frantic before.  I tried to reassure her.  I told her it had been fine, we hadn’t had to wait long, we could see it was busy.  Most importantly she was nice and most things can be forgiven if you are nice.  “You think I am nice?!” she beamed.  “Yes, I do, very nice”.  “Thank you, you have made me feel so much better, you have made my day”.

And her reaction made my day.

It is worth it, a kind word.

To unashamedly quote The Bard, who was actually talking about something else at the time “It is twice blest:  It blesseth him that gives and him that takes.”

Still it is true.  It is good to be kind.  And once you get going it is very easy.