I have never been a keen follower of Delia Smith, though many, including my sister, are fans of her cooking. Some years ago she did a programme about vegetarian cookery and included anchovies among her ingredients. Then, as the debate heated up about intensively farmed animals, the cruelty involved and the health risks, she stuck her oar in to say that poorer families could only afford intensively farmed chicken, and my opinion of her sank to rock bottom. Poorer families would be better off eating healthier alternatives to this type of meat. Why Delia should think it is everyone’s right to eat chicken no matter how barbarously the meat is produced did not impress me.
Her slightly inebriated exhortations to her beloved Norwich City football team warmed my feelings towards her a little, but when I saw she had a piece in today’s Guardian about the tactics being used by our politicians over Brexit/Bremain, I didn’t expect much. So I was surprised, reading this, to find myself largely in agreement with her.
I have done a pretty good job reading the paper today. I am feeling fairly brain dead à la Natalie Bennett after eight demanding days at work on the trot. I thought I was physically tired too, but it’s my head that needs a rest, so it was good to put my feet up, open the newspaper and work my way through the sections and then cast them into the recycling bag.
I have added some hoops to my growbag to support the canes which in turn support the courgette and tomato plants. I am going to have to have an amazingly good crop to cover the cost of the hoops, but as the years go by and they continue in use, that price should be offset. Continue reading
I intended to write a post tonight, but when it came down to it, I am just too tired. It’s bed and a book in a few moments.
So I thought I would just post a couple of photos. They are, predictable enough of MasterB. See them and smile. I know I do.
Look at Those Whiskers!
Sometimes life is just so tiring.
Ooh dear. Just gone eight o’clock and what I should most like to do is go to bed. OK, my excuse is I’ve been working all day. It’s funny how I can feel all bright and breezy and full of vim while working, only to slump the moment I get home. Well, that applies to some jobs anyway. I had a good day. On the go all the time, demanding but fun and positive. Other jobs can be really energy sapping in a negative way and I come home feeling frustrated and dissatisfied.
It didn’t help that I overslept this morning. Continue reading
I see from my emails that there are lots of new posts to read. But I am tired, and now Not Cat has been persuaded to come in, I’m going to have an early night.
So rock ‘n’ roll.
I’m off to bed now, but this is Not Cat at the end of a day spent racing around the garden:
Mother had her head down when I arrived today. “She looks very tired,” I said to the nurse.
“She’s not tired!” she snapped. “She hasn’t walked at all today. She wouldn’t co-operate with the physios.”
She then gave me a list of things Mother had failed to do; won’t put her teeth in; has had her catheter removed but has only passed a little urine; didn’t have much to eat at lunch…
Mother still looked tired to me.
I fetched a chair and sat down in front of Mother.
“Hello darling,” I said, reaching for her hand.
She lifted her head and raised eyelids that looked lead-weighted. Then she smiled, “Hello darling. I’m going to go back to bed soon.”
“OK. I’ll just do your nails, and I’ve brought you a chocolate soya dessert.”
More heavy-lidded smiling.
Her bay was so much quieter today. Three out of the six beds were empty, and I’m guessing Mother was just catching up on sleep after the over stimulation that she hasn’t been able to make sense of. Continue reading