Come Walk With Kay!

You’ve had Come Dine With Kay, how about Come Walk With Kay?

So, off we go!  Ah, hello!  Nice to see you, glad you could come.  Mind you, I think the shorts, T’shirt and sandals are a bit of an odd combo.  It’s not the Bahamas you know.

Grab a stick and join in. The aim is to knock the stick out of the other person’s hand. You are not allowed to whack anyone around the knees, even if it is fun.  Stop it! Now there’s being enthusiastic, and there’s being downright vicious, maybe I shouldn’t have invited you after all.  *stern face*

The kids decide they know where they’re going and eventually bomb off in the wrong direction.  Would you mind chasing after them to get them to come back? I’m afraid I can’t be arsed.

It’s a laugh sliding down on the concrete supports under the bridge. Have a go! So, you’re stuck? I’m not climbing up there to get you. Just close your eyes and let go…. (it’s not actually as steep as it looks, I mucked about with the camera angles)

Opening locks is harder work than you’d think.  You’ve got muscles, you go help them.  Again, I can’t be arsed.  I am not lazy, well, not much anyway.

Yep, I see your birding skills have improved over the years. They are indeed ‘Goosies.’ Bill Oddie would be very impressed.

I don’t care what you say, you DID NOT just see a Mud-Skipper.

Thanks for helping with the blog, I appreciate you taking the time to submit a photograph……..but this is fake. No-one believes you saw a MudSkipper, let alone that you took a photo of one. Give it up.  Stop sniggering.

Nice bridge innit. You’re cold? Well, I’ll lend you my scarf if you like, but next time dress like a lancashire lass rather than a beach babe will you? *digs you in the ribs playfully*

‘Biggun and Littleun’ speeding ahead. We’ll catch up once we get out of this mud won’t we. *slithers around a bit*  Can we link arms? If I fall over I’m taking you down too.

An orchid? Nah. I think it’s a Drakesbill Flowerpuss.

I think it’s nice that anglers decorate telephone wires with early Xmas decs too.  Very pretty.

‘See that puddle? That’s your varicose veins that is.’ *evil grin*

‘Ready….Aim and fffff……….fart’ In all honesty, this actually happened.  What made it even funnier was that he said ‘Pardon me’ really sheepishly afterwards.

Now I’m going to get all soppy. This is the exact spot where I finally found the courage to ask Horace if he’d go out with me all those years ago. Sounds romantic doesn’t it. It was at about 7 in the morning after an all night new year’s eve party. We tried to snog half way home, but Horace said he was worried he’d be sick in my mouth because he’d drunk too much cider. I know, I know, it’s a bit ‘ew’ – but it’s real life rather than sugar coated crappy romance, and it still makes me laugh to think about that to this day. (We managed a snog later and he didn’t throw up so things did improve)

You’re a wuss! You can’t be tired. Sit there too long and you’ll freeze to death. Come on, we’re nearly back to the car.

Go on then, we’ll give you a lift home. Get mud on the back of the chair and Horace will go ape-sh*t at you though…..

 

 

Summer is the Bees Knees!

Well, when it’s summery it’s the bees knees anyway!  Yes I know it has been tipping it down this last week and it’s not felt like summer at all, but prior to that it was gorgeous, you have to admit it.

Cloud busting!

Today we spent almost all day in our living room, with rain splattered windows and the wind racing around our battered back garden.  It was ok though, the kids played Rabbid Rabbits or some other such daft named game, on the Wii and jumped about like crazy things for ages, so that kept them occupied.  I had a headache mostly, still have in fact.  You know the sort that makes you feel like your brain is in an invisible vice. Nice. Every yell of ‘Jump on the rabbit!!!’ made my eyes water, I swear.  (I probably did swear inwardly too).  But they’ve been happy enough and that’s what counts.

Now the day is over I’d like to revisit a lovely day we had last weekend, when the sun shone down like a golden god, and the wild flowers bounced in the light breeze.  A much calmer day than the one we’ve just had!  Horace’s parents and our rabble went to Nostell Priory which is a huge old country house (we didn’t go inside) which boasts a gorgeous fish filled, water-birds aplenty lake, meadows and a strange old gateway thing called the Obelisk which was the grand entrance way for visitors in days of yore.

There’s loads to do there, but we only had limited time so we went for a walk among the lush green meadows and soaked up some of the summer rays.  The kids boinged along grabbing dandylions and long grass, usually whipping us with them too.  That was fun at first, but when they started swiping us in the face with the soily ends they’d dragged up from the ground with the grass, I did get a bit mumsy and had to ask them to stop. I know, I know, I’m a spoilsport!

Chocolate ice-creams make great face cream so I’ve heard. Sausage is covered in the stuff if you look carefully.  Horace in soft focus, he should do shampoo adverts I think.

We saw whole flotillas of baby birds and their mums, most of them looking hopefully at us, I think they expected bread.  We saw cygnets, ducklings and even about 5 or so tiny moorhen chicks.  There was a massive carp too, swimming around like a submarine in the middle of the lake.

This was a very beautiful, very bossy swan. It definitely wanted feeding, and we were witness to inter-species brawling. The ducks lost I think.

Grandma Sweara and I spotted Golden Rattle flowers, Speedwell, Plantain, Dandylions (of course!), and other wild flowers I can’t remember the name of, and we discussed the complexity of grasses and how impossible they are to identify.  Or maybe that’s just me being dense.  We saw at least 5 or 6 ladybirds too, lazily clambering around on leaves searching for greenfly dinners.

The sky was a fantastic bright blue, my cardie was too warm, the kids sulked a little because they were hungry, but all in all it was a gorgeous summer’s day walk.  One of those postcard days that I’ll have to mentally mail to myself when the days get all wet and windy like they did today.

And finally a photo that makes me laugh.  I look like an absolute troll, and considered not including this for that very reason, but wasn’t there some king or other that said he wanted his picture painting with ‘warts an all?’  I admire his spirit, so here I am, double chin an’ all. Horace just makes me laugh in this, it’s a kind of ‘This is all just too much to cope with!’ pose.  Darlek shows off her fangs too here, she’s lost almost all her front teeth and is trying desperately to grow them back so she can learn to whistle properly.  Sausage is being his usual cheeky self – I reckon we look like the Royle family or something.  (That’s definitely ‘Royle’ family, not Royal’ Family…..)

Honestly, I look amazing when I wear make-up. *clutches at straws*

Oh and a little indulgence.  I drew a bee this weekend, I was rather proud of it, even though it has seven legs.  I can count, I just got mixed up.

Its wing is a bit broken too, if it was real it would fly in circles a lot.

A Fortnight in France – Part 4

If you’d like to read right from the very beginning, you can find Part 1 HERE!

A quick warning, this is typed up very quickly from what I wrote whilst on holiday.  I suspect the grammar and the tenses etc are very badly mangled.  If you are an english teacher or some such other writing professional, please could I ask you kindly to ignore the badd spelling, terrible tenses of which I write of at the last minute, and appalling p’unctuation.

This blog is mainly about hunting for French Rizlas, suggestive Cave Paintings and drizzle (or should I say ‘Le P*ssing it Down’.

Going Native

Both kids have gone completely native, and have been running barefoot around the site.  We have been using copious amounts of Savlon on ragged feet. No amount of cajoling will persuade them to keep their shoes on.  I reckon their feet have become so calloused with the gravel that they have numb toes, there’s no other explanation for it.

'Please put your shoes on! Go on, go on, go on, go on!'

Darlek is getting dreadlocks and I must appear like the worst mum in the world because I cannot be arsed to run around after her with a brush.  I found a bobble the other day and managed a plait so I’m on with damage limitation exercises.

I’m unsure if they will let us back through customs with our battered  children.  Poor Sausage looks like a shadow of his healthy self.  He fell over the other day and used his face as brakes.  He grazed his face quite badly and now looks like he has jam smattered all over one side of his face permanently.  I am hoping  it will heal a little more by the time we got home.  Both kids have been runnning around like wild things and have acquired scratches and grazes.  All in all, I suspect I may be guilty of mild neglect.  There will be a plaster famine some time quite soon.

A Quest for Rizlas.

Horace and co have struggled to find supplies of baccy in surrounding shops, and in particular ‘thick’ rizlas.  Horace has always been given thin rizlas that are crap for roll ups and he has been unable to ask for anything else because of his rubbish  french.  He proudly announced today that he has found the word for ‘thick’ in his french dictionary so he will be able to go into a baccy shop and ask for them properly now.  I am hoping they won’t think he’s actually calling the shopkeeper ‘thick’ and get thrown out of the shop as a result.  Up until now, he’s just mimed with his finger tips, doing a pinched finger and thumb to mime ‘thin’, and then stressing he wants thick rizlas by extending the distance between finger and thumb to indicate thicker rizlas.  Consequently he’s just been supplied with massive rizlas, they think he’s just saying bigger.

'So, you think I'll be able to cope with my expensive cheese habit when I get home?' *look doubtful

When I go home I will need to stop chain smoking, drinking G n’ T’s in the afternoon and contantly eating baguettes and cheese. Not quite sure how this will happen.  Will have to stock up on tonic water, ensure there’s no gin in the house (ever!) and go get plastic fags from the chemists. I will be very bored with mild cheddar, and may have to leave chunks of it sweltering in cling film in the sun on the windowsill in a vain attempt to make the cheese taste of something.  We cannot continue such an expensive cheese habit, more’s the pity.

Laxeaux – that place where they have cave drawings estimated to be from 30,000 years ago (I can’t spell it).

There’s a slight hint of the Cottingley fairies in this tale you know!  The story goes that a couple of french lads found these cave drawings in their summer holidays  in underground caves amongst the french countryside – all of them resolved not to tell anyone about it – but then told everyone a couple of days later.  It is almost impossible to date the paintings because of the make-up of the rock, or something.  I think these lads just got bored, elaborately grafittii’d a load of rock with pictures of bulls with double unicorn horns, and then pretended it was pre-historic.  I suppose we’ll never know! (actually I think there must be some basis of truth because one of them would have spilled the beans to The Sun by now if that was the case).  I reckon the Cottingley Fairies mystery wouldn’t have lasted as long as it did if newspapers offered lucrative rewards for stories at the time.

At the  Museum in Laxeaux (how is this place name spelt?!)  We went for a wander around the museum and were very unimpressed.  They had an area with animals in that were supposed to vaguely look like the beasties that had been drawn on the cave walls.  For example, one of the notices outside one of these animal enclosures said:  ‘Compare the bull pictures with the real things!’ – in the enclosure are horses:  yep, you read that right….horses.   Talk about confusing people!

At the the Laxour site itself, the cave drawings were actually beautiful replicas of the ancient art work; the original cave siting had suffered from mould and damage because of the influx of visitors and the spores that they brought down with them on their breath.  They were amazing to see, the artists had just come out of an ice-age and were making their mark in these old caves.  The paintings span almost the whole of the replica cave, across the walls, the roof, everywhere.  Three colours were used, which is apparently rare in cave drawings of this kind, they consisted of black, red and yellow – various combinations of which led to 12 shadings.  In my youth I always assumed that people from that era just ran around with clubs attacking wooly mammoths and going ‘Ug’ a lot.  In fact some of them were ensconsced in flickering candlelit caves, laid flat on their backs on scaffolding, painting the ceilings of caves with breathtaking images of bulls, stags, bears, horses and, it has to be said, a rather rude stickdrawing of a man looking rather excited about something.

(I’m sorry I can’t include photos, we didn’t take our camera with us on that day)

In the cramped cave where the tour was held, Darlek crawled through a sea of legs at least once to get to the interesting bit of the talk.  The french bloke doing the tour had a really strong french accent and I struggled not to giggle innapropriately at first.

Seriously though,the drawings are spellbinding!  My favourite bit was where the artists have drawn five horses, all following each other in line as if along a hillside.  The artists often used the relief of the cave to add depth to their drawings and in this case the horses really do look as if they are running along a far distant hillside, they are drawn along a particularly dramatic crease in the rock which makes for a perfect perspective trick of the eye.

We were told that anyone who made too much noise would be thrown out so, after we’d told Sausage to stay as quiet as possible, he began to tell me and anyone within reach to ‘shush’ and put his finger to his lips. This meant I missed quite a bit of the talk which was a little frustrating, but was still forgiveable because it was funny.  Daughter thankfully didn’t do her ‘Farticus’ impression whilst we were in the cave.  I overheard Gangdad asking her to try not to blow off too much, and ‘clenching’ was suggested.  The advice was obviously taken on board and gas masks were not necessary at any point in the cave experience. Yay!

Rain, Rain Go Away!

At least it was warm rain!

Today we woke up to drizzle, fog and what seems to be the Lake District.  I am a little concerned that someone has picked up the entire git and shifted it back to Britain overnight.  Currently I’m sat under our wooden shelter, with my coat on, and a jumper and my jeans, my feet clad in wooly socks and big boots.  I’m rubbish at being cold, there are others here in jeans and T’shirts today but I’m just a wuss.  The sides of the shelter are all open so I’ve had to move from the end of the table towards the middle which is more sheltered by the house – it’s either that or sit typing with a soggy potentially knackered netbook.

That's me, the geek typing in the corner. Not one of the prettiest photos I've ever seen of me, it has to be said!

I’m a little resentful at the weather to be honest, it was so beautiful at the start.  It still is, it’s just the colours are never quite as vibrant in my opinion when the weather is manky.  Wordsworth would probably wax lyrical about the trees drinking in the rain, branches held to the sky in thanks for the watery blessing.  I on the other hand, mourn the loss of the sun loungers and stare sadly at the redundant suncream all piled in a plastic tub in the corner.  Bugger.  We left Britain in floods of rain, it seems it has followed us.  Bugger again.  I’m not bitter. Much.

The gits (I refuse to call them any other name)

The three cottages are called ‘La Lavendere’ ‘La Rosemarie and ?, two of which have their own lawn and  almost direct access to the swimming pool, our cottage has a gravelled area with some sun loungers but no pool.  This isn’t a bother though as we’ve spent most of the holiday hanging around the largest of the gits.  The food is communal so it’s a help yourself kind of affair, which has worked well.  I just feel sorry for the people who live in this particular git as we have all been using it as the main place to hang out – hence they’ve had all the washing up, bottles, the dreaded Sausage’s wet pants left on the floor outside, and abandoned shoes.   As the largest family here, I am concerned that we are secretly known as the scruffy rabble who should really learn to pick up after themselves.  I fill the dishwasher sheepishly every now and then and wipe up in an attempt not to be evicted.  So far it’s worked.  We’re still here. (Kay digs her heels in)

The centre of the communal git has a relatively well maintained lawn with a beautiful tree as the main feature.  I have no idea what sort of tree it is, but it appears to be light green, ferny and fluffy from a distance.  The leaves catch the rain and make it look like it’s adorned with  little glass dewdrop beads.

The botanical term for this tree is erm....'Fernus Frilly Prettius' Honest.

‘I don’t beliiieve it! (Victor Meldrew stylee), it’s started raining even more now.  All I can hear is dripping water and burbling bubbling drainpipes, and pattering on the shelter.  It’s all very watery.  I think I need a wee. Damn you rainfall! (shakes fists at the heavens)

Running in the Rain

We let the kids run around in the rain for ages, they were having so much fun it seemed a shame to stop them.  They did have anoraks on, but seemed determined to wear them with the hoods down, and in Darlek’s case unzipped.  I saw her lie on one of the soaked sun loungers as if in the throes of a boiling hot day, although the sun’s rays had been replaced with pelting rain.  I suppose it was warm rain at least.  Both pairs of their shoes did use to have flashing lights in the soles, now they no longer flash and they are soaking wet and stuck in a corner rammed with newspaper.  Why oh why did I not tell them to put their sandals on!  So that’s one to French rain, and nil to mummy.  Doh!  I bet they’ll both end up with raging Athlete’s Foot now and it’ll all be my fault.

It is a little later in the day and the rain has thankfully left us.  Good riddance to crap drizzle.  Short of entertainment, Darlek resorted to hair design and badgering grownups.  At least six of us have been bullied into having hair do’s remeniscent of romans or forest nymphs.  Boredom has led to minor hair insanity.  As we ignored all requests for TV, or iPad usage, this is what happened.

Horace's hair. Yep, it really is that long.

You'd be right in thinking they are in fact artistically arranged felt tip pens...She'll murder me for including that pic!

I personally had my hair decorated with ferns, and random cream flowers; others had wreaths of ivy and roses, Horace had ‘body’ added to his hair with the use of empty loo roll cardboard tubes and a bubble blowing container, with roses added for even greater insanity.

Further Adventures in Speaking Bad French. 

I just overheard an excerpt of French phrase book dabbling:  Someone has perfected saying ‘Is the equipment secure?’  ‘This is insane!!!’    I’m struggling to think of a context where this particular phrase could come in useful.  Maybe on board a french ship where a bewildered englishman is desperately trying to tie himself to the mast in the midst of a storm and is given a traditional bright yellow rubber ring with a duck head on the front of it.  Sorry, this is all I can think of. Again Horace is on about Gay Boits.  I am at an absolute loss as to how to link that to the above phrases and situation.  Maybe they are sailing to a gay island, Lesbos maybe.

Kids are running around frantically asking anyone and everyone if they will fill up the water pistol.  Despite it being generally acknowledged that this is a bad idea, they are still insisting on asking everyone.  I’ve been asked twice.  I don’t think anyone has actually helped them but Harold has been squirted with water; all I can presume is that they have been attempting the complicated filling mechanism on their own and have achieved a little sucess.  Either that or they have been spitting water into it for some considerable time.  I daren’t sucess the latter as a possibility in case we are actualy thrown out of the git.

The evening sunshine is lighting up the surrounding hillside trees with a golden green glint.  Cream, white and grey clouds are drifting along the mostly blue sky, a hint of crap weather with hopes of further sunshine tomorrow.  Maybe I’ll swim  in the pool tomorrow if I feel brave enough.

So there you go!  This is the blog that refuses to go away.  *sings* ‘I know a blog that’ll get on yer nerves, get on yer nerves, get on yer nerves. I know a blog that’ll get on yer nerves…..’ (repeat until you’re sick of it.)   Apologies, I’ll stop soon, I promise. 

Gardening in a Jungle

This morning we got up late, had bacon butties, the sun shone and the kids didn’t try to murder each other – so it was a very good start to the day.  Because of the good weather, we decided a bit of gardening was in order.  Horace decided to fell a tree (as you do) and I decided to rip out some of the weeds.  As usual Sausage & Darlek decided to run around in ever decreasing circles.

After a really relaxing walk around Wycollar Dene, where we trawled riverbanks for fossils and I searched for arrowheads and lost treasure, we arrived home invigorated and determined to ‘do stuff!’.

Gardening Express very kindly sent me a package of plants earlier this week and today I thought I should make these plants feel properly at home.  So, armed with gardening gloves, spades, forks, trowels and aforementioned package, we set about making a dent in the weed population, which is no mean feat in our jungle.

Four plants perfectly packaged and ready for planting!

These are the plants I was sent, and they were really nicely packaged when they arrived.  There was no loose soil all over the place, and they weren’t battered or tattered at all.  Considering they’d just travelled quite a way in a cardboard box, they were in brilliant shape.

Can you see the weeds shaking? They're terrified!

As you can no doubt see, there are a ton of weeds in the background there.  That is where the plants are destined to go.  The whole garden  looks like that if I’m being honest , we’ve only just started trying to get on top of things, having only had the garden for a couple of months.  There’s a ton of trees that need felling too.  Horace is enjoying playing at ‘Lumberjacks’ though, and I plan to buy him a checked shirt some time soon. Cue Monty Phython’s song ‘I’m a Lumberjack and I’m OK!’.  Forgive me if I’ve made that joke before, it just constantly amuses me. Horace is a ‘puter geek as a rule, and I struggle to take him seriously in his outdoorsy role.  So, anyway!  The kids and I waged war on the weeds!

Die Dock leaves, Die!!

Yes, before you ask, we’re using a small plastic paddling pool as a weed container. Some thieving git stole our wheelbarrow.  I hope the wheels fall off.  I’m not annoyed or anything…much.  Darlek got stuck in despite the silly gardening equipment and helped loose the weeds while I hauled them out of the ground as best I could.  At one point I put all my energy into ragging a blackberry bush out of the ground and fell arse over tit (a beautifully illustrative term I find!) into a pile of nettles.  It hurt and as I type my back feels very slightly warm and fizzy, nettle stings are wierd.

Sausage went off on his own and attempted to plant a huge stick.  He gets seedlings confused with sticks I think.  Good attempt though!

10/10 for effort!

Eventually we cleared a bit of room for one of the plants at least and here it is! I’m hoping it’ll grow up the fence with a bit of support, and we’ll have a pretty pink flower backdrop to that patch of garden. That’s the plan.  I suspect we’ll have to do battle with the blackberries to make sure they don’t take over that patch again though.   The other plants will be in situe next weekend I hope.  Weather permitting.  I shall be doing a sun dance on Friday.  I don’t know if there is such a thing, but even if not, I’ve decided to make one up.  I hate gardening in the cold & drizzle.  It’ll probably involve me shouting ‘Stop bl**dy raining!’ at the heavens and waving my arms around a bit.

Onwards and upwards I hope!

This is rather a long post, sorry.  I just love wittering on about our little patch. After getting wound up with the kids for standing all over the bit I was weeding I packed it in and went for a wander around to see what I could find.  This old tree stump had some amazing fungus growing on it, they looked like tiny black matches with white tips.  Any ideas about what it is?

Anyone know what this fungus is called?Just click to enlarge the photo.

My last photo is of some of the pretty weeds that I refuse to dig up as yet.  They look like big rounded daisies and they are everywhere!  Much prettier than dock leaves.  Something I adore about our garden is that there is so much to see  even if you just have a quick look around.  It’s like having our own bit of mini woodland.  Although I might get stressed about all the work that’ll be involved in getting it all in check, it’s an absolute joy to amble around, especially on a sunny day.

Pretty weeds can stay for the moment!

This is another ‘sponsored-ish’ post, it is mostly just me going on about gardens, but I do have to mention Gardening Express who have helped make a little corner of our jungle look that little bit more respectable.  I can’t wait to see those plants really growing and coming into their own.   When I get the others bedded in, I’ll post a pic of them too.

If you’re into gardening, and even if you’re not and you just like looking at pictures of flowers, please do have a dig around their site HERE!  They have some beautiful plants, are very friendly and I’d certainly recommend them!

Garden Days – and so it begins!

This is our new ‘garden’ – otherwise known as the overgrown patch that makes me feel a bit wobbly if I think about it too much.  So much to be done!  There are a number of trees that have gone absolutely wild, quite literally.  They need cutting back or taking out completely so that we can get a little sunlight in there.  Horace says he’s probably going to need a chainsaw.  I say, I daren’t watch him with one of those things, they scare me witless!  He needs his fingers to pull weeds out, I’m terrified he’ll chop them off or something.

Trees need to be trimmed!

Chippings everywhere! I think there's half a quarry been scattered on here!

There is a heck of a lot to be sorted, and it’s hard to know where to start.   I need to draw up some kind of plan with paper and pencil, but that is a rainy day job, today the sun shone!  Instead I got my big boots on, got the wheelbarrow, the spade and the fork and dug for England! I’ve started on the raised beds, and have emptied one of them of weeds today, so that’s a start at least.  I found this little fellow hopping around, so I know there’s wildlife lurking in the garden already, which I think is fabulous.  I’m hoping to encourage all sorts of beasties into our garden.

Mr Frog! I didn't kiss him, he's not my type.

There’s a load of rubbish to be cleared too, which looks ever so attractive.  I shall be calling myself ‘Mrs Stig of the Dump’ from this day forth!  (picture the flies buzzing happily around my head).  I cannot wait to get hold of a skip and get rid of this lot.  Skanky horrid stuff.  Some of it must be useful, but it’s tempting to just get rid of it as soon as possible, it looks so ugly sat there.

Nice eh!

We have collapsed sheds too!   I wish we lived in India so we could hire an elephant to shift this stuff.  (random thought for the day).

Jenga sheds.

Still, despite all the work, there’s some hope!  The Blackberry bushes are blooming, so we’ll at least have them to pick, and there’s a few raspberries in one of the abandoned raised beds – they’ll go nicely with some ice-cream for the kids some time.   Speaking of which, the kids love their new domain!   It makes me feel so unbelievably happy to see them dragging sticks around, digging in compost heaps for worms, piling branches up for dens and running rings around trees and each other.  My happiest childhood memories are of playing outside.  In particular I remember dragging an old decrepit mattress half way up a tree, and thinking it was the best tree house in the world.  I want these sort of memories for my two, if I can instil a love for the great outdoors in them, then I’ll have done something right I feel.

Blooming Blackberries! Just add ice-cream in August.

This is not a pile of sticks, this is a 'Den!'

Today I was out there on my own, the kids were in school and nursery so I got quite a bit cleared from one very small patch.  Although it was easier to get things done, I did miss the kids’ giggling and them running around with woodlice etc. Plenty of time for that though!  It was wonderful to be outdoors, the sun shone, my shoulders burnt, the leaves cast speckled shadows, and for a couple of hours all I focused on was lugging bits of greenery about.  Heaven!  Which brings me nicely to my very last photograph, a Forget-Me-Not blue sky.  The heavens and the clouds were particularly beautiful today.

Looking up!