The 'YES' Day.

    Today was a day of mostly 'yes's'.
I have decided to figure a quick budget based on the train-wreck of a printed statement from my bank.
The calculator shows indifference to the d.debits I'm adding. Actually, I think I have a manageable amount at the end of the month. Yes!
Then, Yes, I have to go food shopping.
On a Tuesday, it is quiet, better stocked and my favourite check-out lady is working. Yes.
The deodorant stick makes a bid for freedom....sails over the crisps crying, "I wanna be freeeeee!" and safely lands in a space on the belt without knocking over the passatta. Yes, yes.
    On my way home I remind myself I need to call a new garage. The car is needing an M.o.T. by the end of the month.
I'm dreading all things associated with the responsibility of change.
Uh,oh. My mobile is poorly, it keeps checking out in a blank sort of way, then it is brave and works for as long as it can, then passes out again.
Which I feel is odd behaviour for an inanimate object.
I am resourceful and use the land-line to ring this new garage, despite exposing myself and my little 'billy-cart' to young, jumped-up mechanics that wouldn't know who Cleo Lane is when asked the make of my car.
    My fears are quashed by a friendly woman's voice.
This is the bit when I feel like Danny Wallace in his 'YES MAN'. Except my Yes's are less of a sociological experiment.
Non the less, I find myself at the unyielding mercy of 'yes' and all it's ill considered knock-on effects.
I expected to be slotted in next few days or even next week.
Completely caught off guard, she announced a 2:15 or a 3:00 slot for a test today.
TODAY?
"Yes! um, 3:00, please."
With our peeps coming home for 3:40, I hoped they wouldn't eat all the chocolate peanut cookies 
as a knock-on effect.
    After emptying the boot of the car into the village charity shop, I zoomed off......fearing I may be late on my first visit to this friendly garage. That would be rude.
I am familiar with the area of where they reside...under rail-way arches near a popular tourist coach park. (Not a park consisting of rides shaped like coaches, just were they park.)
     The mechanic is a one man welcoming committee.
He waits patiently as I pick my keys out of a puddle. I fumble with them more as I eventually give him the one for the car.  
For the 45minutes it takes to test, I decide,'yes' to the much closer tourist cafe, instead of popping up to my usual coffee house.
Here comes a knock-on effect.
Weaving my way around tourist groups, milling around fuzzy rimmed cowboy hats, Royal tea-towels and London t-shirts, even though we're not in London.
The ice lolly freezers are about three feet apart, there must have been about eight of them.
Tat drips from the walls and beams over head.
Finally, I spot the cafe part with civilised marble tables and lovely straight chairs befitting a tea shop.
    There are lovely tea shop pastries, cakes and sandwiches......and a pot of coffee sitting on a hot plate.
Twenty years ago, I would have bravely partaken in the java most commonly referred to as 'joe'.
I'm ruined by the cultured flavour and ambiance of today's favoured coffee houses.
This became a firm 'no' of the day.
     Eventually, an attendant could be bothered to attend this odd little cafe counter from the afore mentioned twee shop of souvenirs.
She sulked over in her faded jeans and a grey hoodie with a face like a yard of pump water.
I asked for a pot of tea, expecting a brutal little catering pot for one.
But instead, she fixed me a china pot nestled in a large cup and a small jug of milk.
Then glared at me and asked for £1.99.
Ooops, not enough change. I asked if I could pay for it with my card?
She shifted her weight on the other foot...."Five pound limit."
As a random act of kindness or a desperate bid to get us away from this unpleasantness, the woman beside me nearly begged me to let her make up the difference.
I thanked her very much for the offer, but I was not going to let this attitude intimidate me or this kind hearted woman.
So, I popped back to the lovely cakes and chose two fruit bars and a rather large baguette.
£7.45 and I need to pay in gift shop.
    I put my heavily laden tray on a table and found another girl dressed in cloths too small for her revealing more than I would choose.
Grumpy caught up with her friend and they proceeded to gripe in Polish.
During my transaction, I would not be at the mercy of the cultural differences. I know other Polish people that have never made anyone feel an outsider.
I finally sit down at my table and listen to the traveller's banter from behind my book.
When it is time to go back across to the garage, I found my way out of the cafe of oddities.
The girls were outside, Grumpy leaning back on a chair blowing a thick stream of smoke from her maw. 
She glared at me as I passed by as though she was cursing my nose to fall off into my next bowl of soup.
I did not dignify the expression with a response.
Instead, I mentally kicked the remaining chair legs out from under her causing her to swallow her cigarette.
Another 'yes', albeit an imaginary one.
    I left the car at the garage overnight.
My phone would periodically let me use it,but it was still poorly. I had to be resourceful with my usage.
The bus I was going to catch home before they ate all the chocolate-peanut cookies...was not going to the village for another hour.
At this point, I could kiss those cookies good-bye.
My phone was too poorly to bring up the touch key pad, I couldn't call a taxi.
I speed dial my peeps at home and her independence relishes the task of ringing a taxi on my behalf.
I get woozie and eat a fruit bar.
Yes, that's better.
A few minutes later my taxi shows up.
Yes, That's our gal!

Love Val x

Mistaken Identity

    I'm sure, almost positive, you have looked at other people from time to time and thought; 'Wow, that person could be so and so...or they could be thing gummy's evil twin.
Or, have you actually made eye contact with someone, you were sure you knew?
This sort of thing happens to me in a local supermarket.
 My reaction is to smile broadly to put the stranger at ease, then apologise profusely, "Honestly, I'm not a lunatic, I was so sure I knew you....em, sorry.
 Then my face is so crest fallen it's scudding along the floor as I walk away, reeking  of awkward.
Then, because this has happened in a supermarket, you're bound to run into them again at least eight more times.
   Consider, each encounter has to be as unobtrusive as possible. This may include diving into a deep trolley filled with Eco-nappies and organic veg. By which an amused toddler is delighted by the turnip with actual moving eyes!
   On the other hand, I'll bet nearly everyone knows of someone that can't possibly be mistaken for anyone else.
I was sure I knew of such a one.
Let's call him Greg.
I've known him for a few years and he has taken over the role of main child organiser of the children he has with his wife.. He is an artist while his wife works full time. His style is sort of bloke boho, makes a ponytail look cool, ears subtly pierced, wears J.Lennon glasses and makes wearing wax outdoor attire....well, cool.
    So, on this particular occasion I find myself once again in said supermarket, spying about six checkouts down, a person I have previously described.
I cannot resist a little natter, as he seems to be hunched over preoccupied with some thing. No, someone!
A wee baby in one of those newborn pushchairs, that look like a pod on hydraulics with 4x4 tyres for infant off roading.
So, as I put my hand familiarly on his shoulder as my voice goes all 'luvvie'......
"Oh my goodness, congratulations good for you both, look what you've done! A little boy or girl?"
    But, because this man was bent over his baby, I had no real concept that this 'Greg' impersonator is indeed a full 10" taller!
This impersonator is confused in this surreal situation he seems to have found himself in.
He gives me a hollow eyed, blank look in hope that I will have realised my clunking mistake and beggar off!
 His sleep deprived expression begged me to make haste!
Ah, but not without sputtering in what is rapidly becoming my 'repitior for people I thought I knew'.
    About two days later, I bump into the Greg impersonator outside the village news agents.
Ohmygosh, there are no deep trolleys to make good my escape!
I briefly smile as though to say 'I mean you no harm'.
He still looks sleep deprived.
Purposely, I stride into the newspaper shop, then stand there a while.
'Oh great, now he thinks I'm the village idiot.'
About a week later, the Greg impersonator has had an encounter with a harsh hair cut. A no.2 I'd guess.
Maybe he has seen the real Greg and became completely freaked out in a sleep depraved way.
Even though he still wears J.Lennon glasses, the balance of INDIVIDUALITY has once again been restored.

    Until that is, when I saw our youngest peep's doppelganger in camping play area in Cornwall.........


    Love Val x

Time and Space Emporium. Norse Code. readers:11+

The Time and Space Emporium

　

Word from the Author

　

Energy comes from many places. It can take and it can give.

There are pages that restlessly push against it's confinement, wanting to share it's …energy.
The imagination is the thing that keeps us all in it's tight, solid, grip.
It uses you.
It takes you into the darkness of hidden pages, or it brings you out into the light of love.
Don't struggle, escape is futile.
Enjoy! xxx

　

　

　

　
　
　
　
　
　
　
　
　
　
　
　
　
　
　
　
　
　
　
　
　
　
　
　
　
　
　
　
　
　
　
　
　
　
　
　
Prologue

　
Foo ,Cai and the others looked on helplessly as the vision unfolded before them. They were safe enough,
but the shock of the smell and horrid conditions made them wretch, whine and gag. They had to get a firm grip on their humanity, they felt completely helpless.
They watched, as Idris of Darkhair rattled his keys in the de-creped barred enclosure, determined to fight the rising bile in his own throat. Darkhair shook his head....'The prices he had to pay to righteously abuse his prisoners.' The more neglected they were, the more sarcastic he became and the more he enjoyed it.
Darkhair had a nasty sneer behind his lace hanky, as he muttered unmeasured taunts. Olivia became stunned by his cruelty as it took huge bites out of her spirit and strength. Olivia was completely blind, since birth. Her gift was to be able to communicate by thought to her young son ,whom was also sightless. But she was so low, in so much bitter pain, any thought to escape ...would frighten him to death.
Death can be so selfish.

　
　
　
　
　
　
　
　
　
　
　
　
　
　
　
　
　
　
　
　
　
　
　
　
　
　
　
　
　
　
　
　
　
　
　
　
　
　
　
　


　
1: FOR GOODNESS FATES!

　
　
　
　
　
　
Ma and Jammy Nixon wandered around behind the cottage, and found themselves at the fence facing a stable yard.. Jammy is the horse friend of the widow Ma. They could casually observe the comings and goings of every one and everything.
This was a different world.
Ma had given Jammy a big spyglass attached to his halter so he could look at things close up. She found it in the big wicker trunk, which held old and very old books. For some reason, the spy glass was in there.
Jammy adjusted the spy glass to see what things would look like from a distance..... "Fancy that! It works as a telescope as well."
He panned from left to right. O.k. spying on miserable looking ponies that wanted to be free from children that wanted to go fast, all the time. Being watched by parents, or nannies or carers that drove suitable vehicles for off roading.
He knew what that was like. Not driving off road, but remembering his time before Ma.

Jammy Nixon let in memories of long ago. When he was a yearling. Having left his care free , wobbly legged days behind, … the breaking and training days then began. Jammy Nixon can not be described as
strong willed or stubborn or even bravely opinionated. But his nature had a firm compass of being, pointing straight to 'True.'
He did not get excited about going around and 'round to the barked orders of rider or instructor. For some reason the carrots, mints and orchard apples , did not compensate. It wasn't right. He wanted to be out in the fields as he used to be. From dawn til' dusk. Watching vixens returning to the den, to watching the bats feed kamikaze style. Being a horse for riding just seemed unnecessary. He got on with the other horses all right, despite their odd ideas. First it was the spit and polish....then the blinking hounds, then the horns.
The horns upset him, even more than the hounds. He never got used to it.
(Having Ma's grand daughters climbing all over and riding was always a joy...they could tell jokes that were about ..ducks).
But then came the summer morning, when the grooms came early. They led , dragged and coaxed the horses into the trailers. They didn't travel for very long, but when they finally emerged, they met more horses, more riders and hounds.
His first hunt.
Jammy Nixon watched all around him, there were the horses he knew, some he didn't. But they were all chomping at the bit, stomping and pawing the ground.
The riders shifted restlessly, creaking in the polished leather saddles, clipping their riding helmets in place.
The horns sounded, the hounds released, horses kicked on, in unison, they took off.
Jammy Nixon's nostrils burned with anxiety, the cross country jostling, heals digging mercilessly into his sides. The barking and shouting got too much for him all at once.
He bolted..
At this point, his mind stepped out for a while , until it was safe to return......
When it was safe for his mind to peek out again, he saw the red, white and black...and a little bit more red.
There was another rider...red coat leaning over the one on the floor. He was talking on his phone, panicked.
The other horse gave Jammy such a glare, that it made Jammy's mind cover up it's self again.
This was a life for other horses. This was a right of passage for most horses, but right there and then, Jammy Nixon decided he never wanted that much pressure against his nature again.
He was sorry his rider was hurt, but he could now see him moving on his own now.




　
　
Jammy wanted to let them know he really was sorry. He stepped forward to nuzzle the one on the phone, but he reached up and smacked his face away. Then almost as though the man had been reminded of how this all began...The fella reach for his crop and began beating Jammy blindly. The other horses' head shot up with huge eyes ,'GO!' Jammy reared and 'go' he did.
Over walls, hills and dale he galloped, slicing through the morning bird song. In the distance the horns sounded with sirens, spurring him on. Eventually his mind thought it might be an idea to get back on board again and take the reins.
It was a painful liberation, but it was set. No goin' back.
It took him all day to calm down, getting over it was going to be a few more days ...at least.
The sky eventually became a wild sunset, as he picked his way down a country lane. A gentle rain started with good intentions, then just got carried away. Jammy smiled and occasionally shook water off his face and mane feeling gradually more alive. It felt grand.
The next morning came early, the sun kissed the landscape and bathed it in an unreal sheen of light.
A field of poppies bathed in gold. The dawn chorus lifted his face to the warmth and feeling blessed that he was a part of it.
It scarcely worried him that he wouldn't get the saddle off himself. Although, it was beginning to chafe.

Jammy looked up and struggled to remember what he was doing ten minutes ago.
Ma shaded her eyes against the sun as she stood next to Jammy, her legs brushed against the wild grass of the field. She turned and clicked the latch on the gate of her indigo picket fence. Ma decided a long time ago, that if she was going to have a picket fence...it wasn't going to be white.
She smoothed her linen, tangerine apron down the front, patting the deep pockets for soft toffee.
You never knew.
Jammy was quick off the mark this time, unconcerned that he was shamefully nuzzling Ma's pockets for toffee. He was a slave to toffee!
Ma unwrapped the chosen sweets as Jammy squinted on the spy glass once more.
Jammy could tell what the ponies were thinking, while watching them through his spyglass. They wanted fresher carrots and got into a fuss about the mice playing in the nose bags.....again.
These things , he reckoned went on day in and day out. Unfulfilled stable hands biding their time, instructors that were happier with horses than children....
But that wasn't the only reason why Jammy Nixon was watching.
About half way across the concrete yard, there were the stables, with separate paddocks, where Jammy noticed the bobbing up and down of a little, curly head move awkwardly back and forth.
Then he noticed the pretty, pink, pony just behind...
As the curly head bobbed methodically, the hands attempted to weave a ribbon through the pony's pretty,pink mane.
The pony would occasionally wince through the pain as one eye clenched shut.
He and Ma could hear the faint but sharp demands of 'Torcha'. Upon further inspection the name plate on the stable half door read 'Torchlight'.
However, Torcha was too far away to notice being watched by Jammy, or anyone else by that matter.
Anyway, she was thinking about something else.
Anything else...really hard, on things that didn't twinkle.
Jammy watched Torcha in amazement. She didn't blink, not even once!
Finally, the ordeal was at an end. The corner of the stable yard was quiet, and Torcha ...twinkled.
Torcha blinked.
That was it! Jammy had seen enough.
He turned away.


　
　




　
Jammy then heard the gate click again. Ma had emerged with an oat ice lolly. Ma had the lemon one. Jammy gave Ma a sideways glance.(horses are so good at that.)
Ma rested her arm holding the ice lolly for Jammy, as his velvet muzzle slurped long and loud on his treat, bringing her up to date on what he had watched. Ma tutted, she couldn't believe it either.
Unbeknown to anyone, the sun's hot rays were about to cause some mischief of their own.
Always a bit tricky.
Meanwhile, back in the 'twinkly' stable, the smell of gooey hair products was getting too noxious in the hot air. But getting ready for the 'Pony Club Gymkhana', was theeee event of the whole season!
The smell of leather wax joined the 'stench fest', then the stable hands started screeching at each other, while mums' or carers pulled wet wipes, to put a clean edge to the little riders' faces.
Torcha was in the stall furthest from Ma and Jammy, but closest to the old barn where all the hay bales were stacked.
"AAHHHHHH!" the curly hair popped up again, an arm flung as hard as it could on the pavement, a tub of glitter, hair gel, hair product. It landed with a squishy 'PLAT'.
"THISH ISN'T WORKING YOU SHTUPID PONY AND ITSH OLL YOUR'RE FOLT !!!" The little curled haired girl screeched, while trying to wipe the gel off her hands with reams of paper towel. Which also got chucked out the door sticking to the glittery goo outside. "I'll have to wrap EVERYTHING in ribbon now!" she thumped about theatrically.
Jammy's oat ice went 'ploop'.
Torcha's eyes became large and desperate. They began to well-up with proper tears, chin crimped against her ordeal.
"And you can shtop that right now! You CRY BABY!" as the curled haired girl wrapped and cut another length of ribbon around bunches of sparkled mane.
It was near enough at that moment, the sunshine began to ….react...to...goo.
The heat and light mixed with the reflection of the glitter began to have a...reaction.
The paper towel tipped along, with just enough breeze to fan a...flame.
The little curled head began to simmer down a bit, wrapping mane and tail to the desired effect.
Jammy still hadn't moved from watching Torcha, Ma had now contorted herself so she could also watch what neither could believe. Ma was still trying to get a good view and bumped the spy glass. "Sorry, m'love." Ma muttered.
Meanwhile,the spy glass caught a stray ray of sun and reduced it to 'a laser' like beam on a piece of paper towel.
"Diddums!"
"Oh, Diddums dauuuling"....pleaded her Mummy. "Oh sweetie, she's absolutely tops! You just know the right thing to do. You are so good to this pony, She doesn't deserve you." Mummy gushed..
'Not 'alf ', Jammy thought.
"But we have to get you ready for this next event ,we don't want the judgs cross again now do we dauling." "Awright Mummy, shtop nagging...you're auways....shniff ...shniff..." Diddums screwed her nose up under her crossed eyes, "wahhhs tha' shmell?!"
"No dauling, it's what is that ….yes, what is that ….WHAAA! FIRE! FIRE!" screamed Mummy and Diddums at once. Diddums jumped up and down on the flames , successfully spreading pieces of burning paper in the air, some straight into the crevices of the old barn. Hair clips and accessories flew in all manner of directions.
Then nothing.
Mummy wiped her brow. "Well, that's that then."
Diddums shoved her fists on her hips. "Oh, Mummy that was soooo dangeroush. Good for me I put the fire out".
"It was good for you THAT you put the fire out, now come along , there's a good girl."
Are you going to tell everyone how shcawry it was for ME!?"
"Oh, yes dau...oh, that's my phone..SWEETIE, so glad you rang...."

　




　
　
"But Mummy..." Diddums looked back at the hair accessories scattered on the gooey pavement.
"Your pony will be fine for a few minutes, ...as I was saying..." The chatter faded around the corner.
Torcha didn't know what that 'shmell' was either, but it was getting stronger.
The spark didn't need the encouragement of the spy glass, it was getting a little livelier on it's own.
Torcha watched as the paper sparked into a new flame.
'Right, that's it. I am sooo, sob,..out of here!' Torcha thought.
She turned awkwardly around in the stall until she had enough space to give a good whallop with her back hooves. The smoke was starting to collect into her stall, the sparks had gotten to the hay bales and were smouldering.
Torcha coughed while the stinging smoke filled her space .
One smack with her hooves wasn't enough, her nostrils stung..'not ..like this..' Torcha thought and refused to be her last.
'cccrrrrack'..ccccrrack...SMACK!'
Suddenly, the door of the stall slammed open as Torcha staggered back out of the smoke. Her whithers felt the menacing heat from the fire in the barn made her turn blindly through the hair gel and collected hair clips along the way.
Jammy whinnied as loud as he could, Torcha bolted.
Past the office towards the open road, Diddums pressed her hands and face against the window.
"Torchie?" she squeeled.
"Diddums?" Mummy called as Diddums ran out of the office waiting area..
Torcha turned sharp and skidded, dust billowed as she hit the fence to the field with Jammy Nixon and Ma watching open mouthed.
They watched as Torcha raced hard towards them.
Pink, purple and orange ribbons flew out of Torcha's mane as she ran, looking like a demented carousel horse. 'One more fence , one more fence,...' she chanted in her head, over and over. As she prepared to take the last one, something quite unexpected happened...her hooves never touched the other side. 'POOF!'
Then nothing.
She was gone.

Ma and Jammy spun around and watched the far field as they picked up speed of her own.
'SPLASH!'
"HELP! Oooh helllpp,"' splash!'
"Don't struggle m'love, you'll only make it worse!" Ma called out.
Torcha stopped where she was, dripping wet, with a look on her face that suggested she had no intention of doing any more struggling.
"Whaaa," her chest heaved as Torcha's eyes darted safely enough, but stayed still.
Just as Ma and Jammy got to her, Torcha's legs began to shake, one of them buckled.
Jammy swung around just in time to have Torcha collapse gratefully onto his back, while Ma guided her out of the drinking trough.
In the distance, just beyond the far fence, they heard the wailing of fire engines and a wailing of another kind...
"SHE'S GONE!" Diddums yelled.
"ITSH ALL YOUR FAUWLT! SO YOU'D BETTER BUY ME ANOTHER PONY, RIGHT NOW!"
Two fire engines had streams of water giving everything a thorough soaking.
Thick smoke filled the air.
Once everyone was on their feet, they watch the smoke hit an invisible wall..then it reappeared in the field behind them.
Meanwhile, the air they breathed , was fresh.

　
　


　

Ma patted and encouraged Torcha to climb out onto solid ground.
"Well done, you two, slowly does it..."
Torcha had the big, juicy tears gushing out of her puffy eyes.
"First thing, missy is to get those awful ribbons and that nonsense out of your mane and tail." surveyed Ma.
"Ya, your face kind of looks like a bouncy castle...not well..." Jammy trailed off.
Torcha flashed him a soggy look. Ma reached the corner of her tangerine apron to wipe Torcha's eyes and nose to reveal a more dignified effort. "You don't look or smell like a pony yet, but it wont be long. Just a little gentle teasing.." Ma continued. "Oh, I wouldn't do any more teasing...I don't think she likes it."Jammy whispered.
Torcha's puffy expression softened. She already felt she had crossed over to a better place.

The ribbons were washed, Torcha was repeatedly washed, then both put out in the sun to dry.
Torcha had an endearing squint in her in her eye , noticed Jammy. Ma thought he was going 'soft' on her.
She was right, he was getting fond of her. However, he wont make the mistake any time soon by calling her a; 'Pretty, Pink, Pony'...
Torcha was still quite sensitive about that....
With a solid right hoof.

　
　
　
　
　
　
　
　
　
　
　
　
　
　
　
　
　
　
　
　
　
　
　
　
　
　
　
　
　
　
　
　
　


　

2: LOOK WHAT THE BREEZE BLEW IN AND ..OUT.

Torcha and Jammy were still in the newness of their friendship. Torcha was a bit shy...and Jammy was always trying to say the right thing....
Ma came out one morning, smoothing her fuchsia pink apron and holding a handful of washed ribbons. Torcha's eyes showed hurt and betrayal, then bewilderment as Ma lifted Torcha's chin and rubbed her muzzle gently. Ma continued on choosing a purple ribbon and started fixing the spy glass on to Jammy's bridle.
The breeze was tugging wispy strands of hair around Ma's forehead and neck. Strands of mane and tail lifted, as Ma struggled to keep her hair under control.
The wind was picking up a little beyond a pleasant breeze.
Swirly dust devils rose and dropped, scooting up and around the dirt road.
"Breeze is a bit lively, bit of a relief after the heat, but this is a bit much.." as she cinched up the ribbon around Jammy's gadget.
Jammy nickered in agreement as he scanned the area in front of them through the spy glass. Just then, Torcha pricked up her ears as she felt Ma's gentle hand smooth along her..smooth, neck.
"Ip..."
"Ip, ip, mi..."
"M, mi, mi, p, pip...."
The breeze tossed the sounds around, no one could work out where the sounds were coming from.
Jammy knitted his eyebrows together and sauntered towards the road, even though the sounds seemed to be coming from everywhere. "Bipping? A signal of some kind? Jammy suggested.

"How can you tell? Don't go into the dust, it will sting your eyes!" Nagged Torcha following him.
"She's right Jammy, not too far, please." Ma called. She caught up with them as the wild grass whipped their legs.
Something caught Ma's attention, " Oh, those blasted farm cats have been pulling up my flowers again! Look the blooms are spinning about everywhere." Ma and Torcha 'tutted' and shook their heads in disgust.
Jammy put his spy glass gadget to immediate use.
He saw the blooms close-up, they had eyes.
"Those bloomin' blooms 'ave got blinkin' eyes!" exclaimed Jammy.
"You wha,..... I mean, pardon? But that's what eyes do."
"You mean zoom about, bouncing off...OUCH!"
Whatever connection they were trying to make between the bipping and the zooming around, one of them just connected liberally against Jammy's chest.
'Thwap.' a little purple fuzzball hit, then landed on the ground at Jammy's hooves. The dust twisters, minus the blooms,peetered out down the road and out of sight.
The 'woosh', sailed over Torcha and Ma's heads, then Ma quickly scooped the sinking 'ploop' out of the water trough.
Poor thing needed a bit of a shake to get it 'ipping ' again. Another two, slowing through the grass until they finally came to a stop safely under the trough.
One, 'pinging' was still doing just that, zooming from horse, "Ooch!" to post, 'pinged' again off Ma's shoulder, then between Torcha and Jammy. It finally came to rest , up side down, by it's big toe, from Jammy's bridle.
It clearly said,"Mip."


　
　
　
　
　
　
　

　

"As if you didn't have enough things tied to your bridle. And you called 'ME' a bouncy castle." Torcha retorted. "You look as if...."

"Don't look now but, under the water trough..." Ma pointed out. "Needs some help too."
"Say that again.." muttered Jammy, now feeling silly.
"Mip,"
"Oh, that's what we thought you said." muttered Torcha staring at Jammy.
"What??!"
"Pardon."Ma corrected, she couldn't help it.
"What indeed! In the name of rolled oats covered in honey.....does 'mip' mean? I ask you?." Torcha nearly demanded.
'Oooh, I'll have to try that in my recipes.' thought Ma.
"Calm down now, I believe they are 'Aythya ' meaning 'tufted'. But I remember them as 'fuzz balls'. They need our help just like you did."
"Do," muttered Torcha.
"Do what, love?" continued Ma.
"I guess, but I hope you can cut me some slack, in the nicest possible way, the last couple of days have been...so, so, odd." remarked Torcha.
"They are fluffy, and that one is...." pointing with her nose at Jammy's hooves... "purple, in a pink sort of way." Torcha continued bordering on self pity.
"Yes, chided Jammy Nixon. "That is unfortunate."
Each one of the fuzzballs had their own personalities, soon to be discovered. But they were now all grouped together, they jiggled for group security. Despite their best effort to remain 'safety in numbers'...there's always one.

Right now though, it seemed to Ma that the fuzzballs (like all the others) needed to be made comfortable and safe.
If it were only that easy.
Ma needed to consider what they might eat?
Or in fact, how they could eat? They didn't appear to have a mouth, even though they could make a sound
as though they had vocal cords.
Ma picked one up and rolled it gently in her hands stroking it curiously. Even Jammy got in there with his spy glass in hopes to pick up something.
"They can't stay out here and I'm all out of ideas." Ma concluded, so she scooped them up as though collecting eggs in her apron, then took them indoors.

Ma found she could think better if she was baking. She got out a set of ceramic mixing bowls.
Ma lined the large bowl with a tea towel and put it under the window sill, in the sunshine.
She nested all the fuzzballs in the bowl, then she could keep an eye on them.
The fuzzballs settled into the tea towel, (after their rough landing from their previous dimension) while Ma gathered ingredients for choc-chip cookies.
As Ma mixed, added, dashed and pinched ingredients into the bowl, she watched the expressive eyes of the fuzzballs, now beginning to become restless.
Ma quickly set the timer, after sliding a generous batch of cookies into the oven to take their chances.
Ma settled on her elbows on the counter and watched the little fellows become independent of each other......

Once the smoke had cleared, (despite the timer dinging until it fell off the counter) out the open windows
of the cottage kitchen, the little coloured balls toddled out on the window sill.
What harm could it do, some fresh air?
Tottering about on the sill with a generous window box, each fuzzball puffed up into a perfect sphere.
Their eyes closed, they positively shimmered.

　

　

　

　

　

　

　

Ma was reaching to the little'uns through the window box, watched by Jammy as he got a bit closer. "Toffee, dear?"
"Ah toffee, right." Jammy grinned.
"I can't reach like this all day, can you keep an eye whilst I come 'round to the out side?" Ma asked struggling. Jammy slurupped on the sweet and nodded. The purple one.. became fidgety first, shifting back and forth trying to create a space that just simply wouldn't work.
Jammy tried to get in there with his nose ..just in-case it toppled...

The purple one tipped over backwards into the lupins below, passing Jammy's sticky muzzle on the way down.
This triggered an agitated response, where each fuzzball after that, followed in a collective, uncontrolled ...wiggle.
The window box was no longer a safe place for them to be, Ma watch helplessly before she could get to them
as one by one they tipped, wiggled, pirouetted and grappled over the side.
Jammy watched them frantically splay their toes to try to grip onto anything on their way to the soft soil below.
"Don't move! If you get too close, you might step on one or sniff them up!"
'Good point', thought Jammy.
Jammy flicked the spy glass into place, so from a safe distance, he could locate them for Ma to retrieve.
The red and pink ones were huddled together on a large leaf near the soil.
The orange one, was eventually found straddling a bloom.
The blue one was found upside down, eyes squeezed shut..on the red plant. Ma and Jammy had to think quick, 'was that all of them?'
"Ah, the unfortunate purple one is missing. The one who started the whole thing." Ma held her hand up to Jammy, now on her knees intending to sift the soil.
"Just keep standing there , while I check around your feet." Ma urged.
Ma located her flower patterned gardening gloves, then gently disturbed the surface of the soil.
She collected up the fuzzballs that she could find. The red and pink one were very attached to each other, the
orange one , was attached to a bloom and wouldn't leave without it.
Ma had to tickle the blue one, so it would open it's eyes. With them all cupped in her hand, she gently poured them into her deep, apron pocket.
Jammy searched past the flowers, as the ground came up at him, he passed ants on the scurry (bluuugh) and a snail or two on the ooze.(also bluuuuugh).
He gave a little shiver as up close and personal of a snail....he'd probably never get used to.
Also, up close something just zoomed past. And it was purple!
"If I'm not a monkey's uncle..."
"Which you're not ..."
"There 'e goes!" exclaimed Jammy nose pointing behind him, "Towards the picket fence...which is also, purple!"
"Cor' it can't half shift on those little toes." Ma grinned, then hurried after it.



　
　
　
　
　




　
"Quite blissfully unaware of the goings on inside the indigo perimeter, Torcha gazed luxuriantly on the delicious wild grass, then closed her eyes. Taking a deep breath of the simple, yet effective delights of free living which she now enjoyed...listening to the sky larks singing continuously.
She put her head down to munch some more,breathing deep the tantalizing fragrance with every.... "Mgggckck ….gaaaasssp....KAGK! Ahhhh,ahhh, WACHOOOIE!"
PIOW- thump, plup...."EEEK!" shrieked Torcha.
"Ah, that's where the unfortunate ,purple mishap got to." muttered Jammy, as he and Ma trotted towards the water trough again.
When they got there, they found Torcha coughing dramatically.

They found the fuzzball in the trough, sopping wet, with it's foot caught in the handle of a florescent
lunch kit.
"That would be Marky the Sharky's lunch box sent up because he's hungry." informed Ma, as she scooped the fuzzball out of the water away from the circling shark..
"Of course it is and of course he is." spluttered Torcha.
With her free hand, Ma reach inside her (did I mention) deep apron pockets, then produced a small peanut butter sandwich, with crusts on.
"It's his favourite." Ma said leaning into Torcha.
"Absolutely and why not?" hooted Torcha sarcastically. The small shark showed it's fin glide along the surface of the water, then popped a nice toothy grin on eveyone. The purple unfortunate mishap crouched in the cradle of Ma's arm., then shook like a dog.
"Ha, that reminds me of someone..." said Ma laughing, thinking of her granddaughter's crazy, little dog.
"She's got crazy hair, just like you." Ma mentioned.
"Is that your granddaughters, or their dog?" Jammy grinned.
Meanwhile, Unfortunate Mishap inched it's way towards the other half of the sandwich .
"Oh, no you don't. This is sticky. If you want one I'll try you on a little at home." Ma looked up,
"Is it this way with all furry creatures, wanting to roll in the worst stuff they can find?" As she tossed the remainder of the sandwich at the already air borne shark.
In fascination, Unfortunate Mishap sprinted off Ma's arm, along Torcha's back to get a better look at the leaping creature.
As Torcha's tail was already mid 'swish', it caught the fuzzball and sent it sailing towards the floating lunch kit. It would have been a great landing, if it hadn't slid off the other side into the water of the bulging cheeked shark..
"I think you may have to put that fuzzball in a secure environment, for it's own safety." nodded Jammy.
"Or until it learns to behave itself!" huffed Torcha.
Meanwhile, Ma ,again scooped the fuzzball out of the water, while the curiously, disappointed shark looked on.
Marky the Sharky plunged back into his trough that had not always been his home.

He wound up there because of a storm that got a portion of itself caught up on the other side of a multidimensional window (thingy).
Ma was getting used to being the recipient of likeable characters into her life in this way.
It probably never occurred to Ma, that anything sinister would make it's way through. She never saw it as a huge problem. It might be by other people's standards, but you see, Ma was no ordinary person and she had a bundle of 'other' standards that worked just fine.
Anyway, this poor wee shark was hunting inside the drop-off area in the shallows of of an Australianic coral coast-line. This storm had suddenly touched down in the shallows and scooped up Marky along with random objects on the beach....then flung them through the multidimensional window(thingy).

　
　
　




　
Bits of precious coral, a flip-flop, him and a child's lunch box were flung through, into the horses' drinking trough. As the lunch box hit, it flipped open to a soggy, but yummy peanut butter sandwich and a soup flask, that was doomed to exist embedded at the bottom, with an entertaining display of coral and mangled flip-flop to swim around.
Maybe it was the shock of it all that Marky never got any bigger. He also knew when to stay out of the way of a thirsty horse!

Jammy cocked his head in Ma's direction, would it settle if you put the fuzzball with the others in your apron pocket?"
"Oh, we could try.."
"Not the toffee pocket!" Jammy panicked. Ma changed hands and lay unfortunate Mishap in the other pocket.
Inside Ma's apron pocket, the space was quite amazing. Unfortunate Mishap looked about and saw it's companions shimmering on throw cushions and rag rugs basking in the sun..
The sun crept in through a window frame of polished oak, that looked more like a vine. When Unfortunate
Mishap joined the space, the window frame sprouted another curved pane. A rag rug wove itself in front of the purple fuzzball until it was an oval it could stretch out on. Lavender bunched under the window to catch the breeze as Ma walked along. The effect was irresistible to them all. Soon, they were all shimmering gently
in their slumber.

　
　
　
　
　
　
　
　
　
　
　
　
　
　
　
　
　
　
　
　
　
　
　
　
　
　
　
　
　
　
　
　


　

　
　
3: HALF TERM HOLIDAY AND A LITTLE RED WAGON.
Whickety-weet, whickety-weet, whickety-weet.......
Down the road, coming towards the cottage came the sound..
Or should I say horrible, grating noise. A sound so illegal, it was probably worthy of some sort of 'Gagging Order.'
The noise came to a chattering halt. Torcha pulled up along side Jammy to watch the assault safely through his spy glass. He forgave her being pushy, it was part of her charm. Torcha's ears went straight back as she witnessed the two young girls coming down the road.
'Keep going, keep going.....nothing to see here …' Torcha whispered. "Not one," whickety "One, is ba.."
weet... "bad enough"...whickety.. "But two little" wickety- weet "girls, is more than I can".. whickety-weet
"Stand! With their bl..." whickety-weet " ribbons and whickety-weet bows and pins!" Torcha continued working herself up into a whickety-weet froth.
"Your language Torcha, honestly." said Jammy, most disapprovingly.
Jammy continued to watch Ma's grandchildren pull the red wagon they had made the summer before, full of magazines, a duffle bag and their odd, furry, little dog, named 'Poppy'...that just yelled all the time at new things.
The loose wheel had become bockety, so they had to stop pulling.
Poppy took this opportunity to start yelling again.
(Which added to their noise problem.)
Jammy decided to take to the hoof after Ma , to go and meet them.
Jammy turned to invite Torcha. "Coming?"
"No." with a 'your nuts' look on her face.
"Suit yourself, when ever your brave enough ." Jammy teased.
"Thanks." she muttered looking on.
As Jammy closed the gap between he and the girls, Poppy jumped out of the wagon running full pelt towards him, then stopped.

The air went strangely still between them as the midday heat cloaked the dry grass and dust under them.
Smiles spread across the girls' faces as bright as the sun itself. Poppy began to whine and tip-toe on the spot. They looked around themselves as they heard a distant thunder.
Not a cloud in the sky....but still.
Jammy suddenly stiffened, but it was too late.
As if on the savannah, the gazelles surprised by a leopard.
A pretty pony by all accounts (except now) was showing her glinting teeth and a dangerous sheen in her eyes, parted the long grass in a lunge into the open like a lion on the edge.
She landed in front of the small dog, sending a billowing skirt of dust on both sides.
The funny, little dog looked very small now standing firm in front of the girls she was protecting.
Torcha growled low in her throat (which is odd for a pony) that was primeval.

　
　
　
　
　
　
　




　


　
Poppy pulled her lips to take a deep breath......
'MINE!' she barked. 'MINE!' 'MY WAGON, MY GIRLS, MY TREATS My rope, My stuff, girls,mine, mine ,mine ,mine.,MINE!'..she bounced on ridged legs with each bark.
Torcha (the now quite attractive pony when not scathing) put her head up and opened her eyes wide flourishing the longest, lushest eye lashes....then, laughed!
To Jammy, her laughter (was a long time coming) was like porcelain bells chiming in a gentle breeze.
To every one else it sounded like 'yarking' with an occasional enthusiastic 'snort'.
Little tears slid and dripped off the ends of her thick eye lashes, as she put her nose down to Poppy height and nuzzled the little dog's even smaller nose!
Poppy smiled and greeted Torcha with a tail swish and called 'woooh, woooh'!
Poppy flicked her curled, swishy tail and led the way down the road to Ma's cottage.
The mouth on Jammy Nixon hung open as they passed.
"Close your mouth." Torcha whispered as she passed.
Ma gathered the girls to her hugging their shoulders tight.
"I've baked a batch of cookies," Ma said enticingly.
"yay.."
"Thank you Gra'ma. How'd they turn out?" asked Cai as she leaned into Ma with all her..tallness.
"Oh, I guess the same as always, but I have a legitimate excuse this time."
Ma turned to the younger of the two. "Oh Foo, don't looked so shocked. Maybe I'll turn the job over to you one day. You're not that young any more either." Ma threatened with a half smile that indicated she may be plotting.
"Oh,no Gra'ma, I wouldn't hear of it !" Foo feigned.
Ma gave them one more squeeze,then ushered them into the cool of the cottage, from the hot sun. The horses could graze under the cool of the orchard trees 'round back..
"I'll put some olive oil on that bockety wheel. And see if we can put it right after lunch and lemonade."
said Ma looking between them. "AH yum, I'm sooo like, hungers!" gasped Cai.
Jammy's mouth was still open when they passed.
"Close your mouth darling, you'll let the flies in." Ma said to him gently as she stopped and rubbed noses with him.
"flies."
"Come on Jammy, who's your new friend? She wasn't here last time we were here. Kinda scary, huh? And what was that noise coming out of her muzzle at Poppy? That ,I think was just like, wrong." Foo chattered.
"Not 'alf Mate. Not 'alf." said Jammy smiling after Torcha.

　
　
Cai and Foo settled down on the colourful, miss matched chairs in Ma's kitchen. They drank tall glasses of pink lemonade and eating the middles out of Ma's generous batch of cookies.
"Ma, how do you make the pink in the lemonade ?" asked Foo.
"Beet juice. Not too much though..."Answered Ma .
"Eeeeewww, you put squished up beetle juice in our drinks!!? Don't you find that just, a lot disgusting? I'd rather have my juice bugless, without the, brains..." Foo curled and wiggled her fingers around her squished up nose.
"Beets..veg juice. Sorry to spoil your fun." Ma gave her a droll look from behind her frosted glass.
"Oh.."
"Stay still! Don't move Foo, it's..it's...one of Ma's bugs on your hair...AAAAhhh it fell in your drink!"
"AAAHHH!"sploosh …..a cookie chunk splashed!

　
　
　
　



　

"Happy?" asked Ma nonchalantly passing Cai a cloth."

"Yup! Awsome."

"I think, the trick is knowing when to quit." advised Ma with a tone of caution.

"Like, when she cries?" dared Cai.

"No, like, when you have to clean up her mess."

"Oh." Cai had considered herself told.

Outside the kitchen window, the lupins swished because of the gentle breeze, that carried the sound of Torcha falling about the place laughing at the nutty, little dog.

'My grass! My flower! My bug, my stone , my butterfly!..My ...woooh..your bee, NO, MY BEE!' yelled Pops while Torcha never seemed to tire.

Ma stood at the sink washing-up while Cai and Foo wore tea-towels on their heads to mark their meal duties.

"It's not your summer holidays already, is it?" asked Ma .

"Not yet, it's half term break and Mum and Da have this mad assignment on the west coast of the Queen Charlotte Island out in British Columbia."answered Cai.

"They had to fly out in time for the white bears having their cubs." bounced Foo "It was a last minute thing after Da collected his new camera lens . Mum was making us tell jokes into her new tape recorder to test it out. But I don't think she realises there isn't any tape in it. It's all cards and chips these days.

Da told us not to go on about it, or it just gets way too complicated."

"You mean they've gone to do another documentary on the polar bears?" Ma exclaimed turning to face the tea-towels.

"No, the black type bears that just turned out white." Cai's tea-towel answered as it drained the last of the lemonade.

"Since it was going to be an on going thing , they decided to take us out in the summer. Besides jet lag and school don't mix."

"Fair enough, how is school anyway?" Ma enquired collecting more dishes.

Foo made a lonely wind noise through her pursed lips and Cai answered "Bong.....bong...."

"Well, it's just as well that you're here because, I have a few surprises of my own that needs a fearless but delicate touch."Ma explained with out giving too much away at once.

Foo pulled her tea-towel off to reveal her bob of blonde hair of ten years and reluctantly picked up a plate to dry.

Cai did like wise to reveal her auburn hair of thirteen years .

"Wow, should I take a picture? You....willingly drying a plate? This could be one for the album!" teased Cai. "Oh , it's always different at someone else’s' house." said Ma before a squabble ensued.

"Besides, there's no point trying it on with Gra'ma."teased Foo back.

When they had finished, Ma beckoned them out side on the front verandah, where wicker chairs waited for them. They had miss matched, but comfortable cushions. Most things were like that with Ma, it brought out the friendly in everything and everyone.

Jammy Nixon clip-clopped around to poke his nose onto the half wall of the verandah next to Cai.

Cai reached her arm under his chin and rubbed the whiskers growing out of his muzzle. Cai was especially fond of Jammy. He wasn't demanding or slobbery.

Ma smoothed out her apron and opened a pocket to reveal the fuzzballs.

　

　

　

　

　

　

　

　

　

　


"Naaawwwww, they're sooooo cute!" exclaimed Cai nearly wandering from Jammy.
"They're like...little baby chicks wobbling about, can we pick them up?" Foo asked hopefully.
"If you do," instructed Ma,"You must sit with them and keep the red and pink one together."
The girls sat , wiggling in anticipation while Ma gave them two each. She kept Unfortunate Mishap because he needed special attention.
They all 'mipped' instead of 'peeping' .
"I'm not sure what they are capable of.." started Ma.
"Except getting into grief." Jammy tried finishing.
"Yesssss, that much we do know, so, please don't take your eyes off them. If you need to blink, do it quickly!" urged Ma.
"Foo! Stop, that or you really will loose one!"
Foo stopped blinking ,looking a little guilty.

The girls were used to seeing slightly odd characters adjusting to life with Ma, while they stay or move on.
Fuzzballs pottered about on their laps until it became apparent that a little lap doesn't take long to explore.
Ma reached for a wicker basket .
"Pop them in here and we'll put a cake net on top to keep them safe while we watch them."
"Safely." added Jammy exhaling with relief.
Foo, then Cai put their fuzzballs in the basket where they had a little more room.
"Mip!"
From the palm of Ma's hand came the little voice loud and clear. Unfortunate Mishap crouched with just it's toes sticking out. Ma was at the ready in case it did something predictably, unpredictable.
Not quite appreciating the situation, both Foo and Cai reached for it at the same time.. .
"MIP!"
Ma's hand instinctively closed around the fuzzball , they all heard a 'chink'.They all looked at each other.
Slowly, Ma opened her hand to show one of Unfortunate Mishap's eyes were closed, the other in a cautious half squint.
"It looks scared." said Foo moving away. "Sorry, if I did that."
"Thank you for considering petal, but I'm not sure what just happened then. It sure is a moody creature." Ma consoled.
Ma closed her hand around it to pop it in the basket with the others. Everyone heard the 'chink' again, against her rings. Foo unwrapped her movie star styled scarf from around her head and shoulders .
"Daauuling! Do you vaunt my silk for your comfort!" Foo dramatised.
Foo was mad for scarves, as long as they were floaty. She had them by the dozens.
Cai was more the one for the odd clips and modest jeans and long tee-shirt, not so flamboyant.
Foo curled her scarf on Ma's lap like a nest to put Unfortunate Mishap into.
"Now, when I put it down, get ready to catch it!" warned Ma.
"I'm wondering.." Foo wondered, " If we should take it out to Jammy Nixon's spyglass to get a closer look?"
"We could do worse, come on then." decided Ma as she secured the scarf and led the girls out through her indigo gate into the field where Jammy was getting Poppy up on the back of Torcha..
"Maybe she wouldn't yell so much if she could see more, I think we need a break.." chuckled Torcha.
Jammy smiled with relief.
"Jammy m'love...when you're through, can we put your spyglass on to the fuzzball?" called Ma.
Poppy scrambled up on Torcha's back to survey the area....turned around three times ,hopped once and curled up and put her chin down, groaning with contentment.


　
　
　
　




　
Jammy strategically flicked his spy glass and leaned his eye into the scarf.
Cai gently pulled at the bundle until the fuzzball was revealed.
"We wanted to find out what was chinking on Ma's rings every time she held it?"
Foo blew gently on it, while Cai tickled the fuzzball to see if she could find ….There was definitely something hard and smooth. She tried to part the fuzz so the spy glass could do it's thing.
"What can you see, Jammy?" Cai whispered.
"A little oval crest.......a lot like the abalone on your special bracelet Ma. She smiled remembering the gift from her granddaughters on one of her birthdays. (Doesn't matter which one.)
"Or mother of pearl?" Jammy was guessing now.
There was a slight octorine wave that came out as a wink . This time the fuzzball sighed.
Well, it may have been a sigh, a sound that felt old, ancient and heavy.
Like the whisper through a very, old oak wood.
That old.
Unfortunate Mishap's eyes had closed most of the way, despite any consequence of discovery.
It was just so tired. Things in the big, wide world happened too fast for the fuzzball. One thing that Unfortunate Mishap was now familiar with, is that since obtaining the crest, every day had some thing to do with it.
It longed once more for the inside of Ma's pocket and the smell of lavender and slightly burnt cookies.
"Foo, could we borrow your scarf for a while? It's just that it's settling down and it's best just to go with it."
"Sure....look at it's eyes though, they're going mad." Foo noticed, still peeking through the spy glass.
It was only a matter of time.

That night, a full moon, on a clear sky, shone stark, white light through the kitchen window. Long, vivid shadows lay across the counter and kitchen table.

Hanging on the back of the larder door, was Ma's tangerine apron. In the folds were the deep, peaceful pockets, where the fuzzballs safely slept. Well, the one wrapped in Foo's scarf, rested with one eye open.

In the morning, Ma came down the creaking, wooden stairs and eased her fluffy, bunny slippers into the light. The soft, yellow light of the morning , lay like a carpet of a time of peace and quiet.
Ma filled and put the cast iron kettle on the hob for the first whistle of the day.
Ma then took her spiced tea outside to sit on the step and watch the already busy field and wait for the others.
The horses dozed on each other , bathed in soft sun as the last moments of sweet sleep drifted, before their
day began.
Poppy trotted around the corner of the cottage and set about making a fuss of Ma. Cai and Foo had been up after all, seeing to Poppy's needs.
The golden sheen on the field didn't last very long, it was going to be another hot one and like it or not, it had begun!
First, breakfast....Ma reached for her apron from the hook on the larder door, then set about getting the first meal of the day. The fuzzballs bounced softly a little as Ma tied the garment around her middle. Unfortunate Mishap closed it's exhausted eyes, splayed it's toes and fell helplessly into a blissful, deep sleep.
"Who likes their bacon, eggs and potatoes...crispy!?" Ma called through the smoky kitchen window.
Poppy sailed over the threshold first, banked a corner and skidded into the bunny slippers.
"BARK!"
"No," said Ma looking down, "Those are my slippers you goofy beast." Ma grabbed the 'dog towel' to rub her down before Poppy grabbed it to savage it alarmingly in the corner.
"We do!"..was the answer Ma was looking for. The girls kicked off their shoes then winkled some freshly picked wild flowers into a little vase on the fresh table cloth..
A little ladybird was busily making it's way around the fresh stems.
Poppy obviously missed one.

I dress-up on MY terms!

   (Roughly translated from Poppy, a shih tzu three year old female...like alot of three year olds, or indeed some females.......need to do things on their terms.)


   Hard enough for us to know what to wear in this changable weather, or certain events going on with family and friends. Do you feel bad about dragging your four legged companion out in a deluge?
Have a look at my folder of pics taken by my big sister........

This is myself swatting for GCSE's.

I am still waiting for my results in

physics and the molecular structure of B.B's.(biscuits)

This was taken from
sports day. Won silver in the gangbusters, 100 metre running and barking competition.

As a Norman Warrior. The bear never had a chance.

 You're rather lovely.....aren't you.

 My Daddy, big sister and I love Star Wars. ........I'm an Ewok.....duh.
 The day doesn't start until I says it starts.

 Hokay, it can start. REALLY? You do take the most absurd liberties

 I'll let you know the colour of food dish I like. Oh, nice try with the rubber non-tip device on the bowl.
You think?

I do quite allot of surfing with Mum, I'm here for moral and technical support. You have seen an example of attire that I like. I can be excruciatingly cute on my own merit, there is no need to spend heaps of money on outfits that you can't get fox poo out of.
   I am as opinionated as they come, riding purely on instinct and not peer pressure.
Here are some of my considered opinions on the poor, hapless victims of either fashion, circumstance or just wrong place at the wrong time.
Attire described as; from 'haute couture to functional and accessorise galore.
Really?
You cannot have an active small dog syndrome life dressed as Wonder Woman. Whatever takes the attention off the fact your sibling is dressed as a bloody pink rabbit.
I wonder if I made it clear how I feel about the colour pink!
I've known rabbits in my time, they're awesome. but it doesn't work on any level dressed as one.
  Also, if you find yourself, as a small dog in an unavoidable patch of grief, honestly, you cannot put space between you and said problem if you're rolling around tangled in your poncho!
    I have a functional jacket for when there is quite a bit of snow. As a rule, I put the brakes on.
Mum says it's like trying to walk a house.
The only time I get cold and shivery is if Mum stops and gasses her maw on the street corner.
The wind and the rain is an injection of madness! Keep moving, run, bark, spin around in big circles then make them smaller until you nearly catch your tail and fall over!! It's a RIOT!
    Please, it would be too cruel to let me voice my opinion on vivid coloured dogs that climb submissively into wedding attire.
HANG YOUR HEAD IN SHAME!!!
   If by some strange interpretation, the mind has turned us into 'furry children'.....then for heaven sakes above, let us act like them occasionally.
Do not in any capacity think its a good idea to dress cats up. Unless you're up to date on your private medical insurance.
I doubt the N.H.S. would see this as anything else other than 'self harming'.
Hairless cats....soooo unfortunate. Functional clothing from wee kittens I can sympathise.
A heads-up....if they are wearing jumpers, climbing trees is probably not a good idea.
Probably something with short sleeves...they don't want to find themselves like I did.
Imagine a confrontation with the neighbourhood bully cat or the neighbour's dog....
AHHHHHH! I GOTS NO ARMS!!!
.........10 minutes later.........
Poppy is currently engaged in being ferocious and viscous with her toys that know who's boss.
F.Y.I...'what's that' is the command for letting go.
We were just saying wrong the whole time!
   Love Val.

Mad as a Union Jack tea cosey, vs. Jubile

   The Jubilee that we are witnessing, is a swollen torrent of memorabilia being snapped up by people keen to mark the occasion in a fashion of their choosing.
With 60 years on from Queen Elizabeth's Coronation, we are witnessing once again with all and sundry, her Majesty's achievements.
   You can throw a stone, (tired of the spit metaphor now) in any direction and hit someones bunting.
"Sorry!"
We can also obtain anything from fine bone, gold gilded, china tea sets, complete with the option to obtain a mad Union Jack tea cosy. I can only see nothing but trouble getting it off a scalding tea pot!
Then down at the lower end of the scale, you may want to purchase cardboard faces of the Monarchy with the eyes cut out. Wear one of those and tell me whether cutting the eyes out helps at all.
   Seriously though, the questionably brave, mad as a Union Jack tea cosy people, whom all camped in outrageously unsuitable gear, in the foulest of June weather.
   They will never, ever, admit it wasn't worth it given a chance at glimpsing at the Queen.
These people are soaked and chilled to the bone, witnessing history along side their equally insane neighbour.
"Something to tell the grandchildren!" "An experience of a lifetime!" "We'll never forget this!"
I'm truly staggered.
They were bothered enough to put themselves through this. They're not expecting a pat on the back, which is just as well.
I'm the sort of person that is quite happy to see it on the telly. We all have our different levels of appreciation on things.
   Meanwhile back at the ranch.....our eldest Peep and her mates attended a picnic in the park, having a 'brolli rave' to live musicians all wearing soggy card crowns.
I was finding out about a completely different Jubilee from our beloved scriptural mentor.

   Actually, the scriptures in the Old Testament, the book of Leviticus chapter 25 through to chapter 28, describes a "Jubile."
This Jubile happened every 50 years, to redeem those that had to give up all they owned to pay their debts. A ram's horn would be blown, then families would be able to get their holdings back.
I know how harsh this sounds, but the good news is the children of Israel that believed in the Lord, were well kept, paid servants. The unbelievers that cursed and blasphemed the Lord, had seven kinds of furry inflicted upon them.
Then didn't get their gear back.
They would have been savagely treated slaves.
   The 50 years measures in the counting of 7 sabbath years.
If you owned land, you worked and reaped from it for 6 years, then let the land rest for the 7th or sabbath year.
It was the same with the week as we know it now, and on the 7th day rest.
On the sabbath, you wouldn't go without, you would live off the harvest from the years before.
So, when you multiply 7 sabbath years by 7, this equals 49.
Then add on all the sabbath days, that pretty much makes up the remaining year, that brings us up to 50 years!
The property would then go back to the kin of the tribe that lost it in the first place.
Legalities can be found in the book of Numbers, chapter 36.
  
   Our sins can be a bit like debts.
As we can spend a huge amount of time trying in what is less commonly perceived as 'pathetic attempts' in avoiding responsibility, it is still a weight.
   We are all bad toads and Jesus knows that.
He knows your heart.
Here's the thing: if you believe in his blood sacrifice, change from scepticism, then love him, Your debt is clear.
This also means you acknowledge Jesus and prove you are responsible enough to learn from your mistakes.
That is, if you are able.
If you are not able, pray for Jesus to guide you. Reading the Bible gives you massive instruction for this. He knows your heart.

   The next time the horn of the Jubile is blown, will be the time of the rapture. This is when all the Angels of the Lord blow their horns so we will be judged as the living and the dead.
No one knows when that will be, except the Lord Father. He's not telling.
I am saved, I'm still a wilful toad, and by this I want to be able to bring you with us.
He knows my heart.
Love Val X.

I want to Die Young

   We all think about death.
In one capacity or another. Most of us don't have to deal with it, until it happens to some one we know or love.
Frightening stuff, because we are left behind.
   My thoughts, considerations and musings on 'Death' was refreshed upon reading Jennifer Worth's, author of 'Call the Midwife', 'In the Midst of Life.'
Her book was a thorough compilation of her experiences in the medical profession as well as the up-close and personal aspects of death.
It's not creepy, or morbid, or dysfunctional in the slightest.
If you are young and rearing for any little surprises life throws at you, nothing can be further from your thoughts.
Mostly because you're just trying to get through the 'tick list' that is your day, looking forward to the things you like best with the folks you like best.
   Our culture is composed of 'live life to the fullest' be beautiful, be fast, be FABULOUS DAWLING!
With countless and counting even more ways of doing so.
Our adversity to dying maybe comes from a generation just passing, still more than a little raw in the wake of the First and Second World wars and God keep the soldiers fighting now.
   Those deaths are unnatural.
Imposed by leaders trying to justify their validity to their God and Country by sending thousands of men and women to their hideous injuries and deaths. The lucky ones go quickly.
Many soldiers have a 'letter of death', as means of comfort to those left behind. It just shows the amazing attitudes they have in the life their living. They feel they are making valuable controbutions.
Don't any one dare tell them they're not.
But they wouldn't have this history, if world leaders would do the honourable thing.
Here's just a suggestion....just putting it out there, what if they put themselves in the line of fire!
In a room, on their own.
The victor is the one that comes out of the room and declares 'NEXT!'
Until all the leaders and their successors will actually start thinking about what would be appropriate for the people they are supposed to be ruling.
                                                           *TANGENT ALERT!*
   Sorry.
Death has also been described as the 'angel of mercy'.
Especially for the elderly without hope of a quality of life. Or people horrifically injured or people with a particularly aggressive, incurable disease.
My Aunt died last summer of cancer.
It wasn't localised, it was wide spread.
Here's the thing. She was feeling fine one day, next week along, she felt unwell.
I'm not sure what made her check for cancer, but there you go.
She refused treatment. Not without careful consideration, she just knew it would be prolonged with more misery than she was willing to put herself and her family through.
She was also a registered nurse, well aware of medical advancement and the life prolonging benefits trained doctors can provide.
   I would like to think that Do Not Resuscitate, was some thing they discussed to add to the peace of natural death.
Oh, here's a heads up, apparently, a doctor has to put a reasonable excuse for a death not treated as suspicious. Natural Causes, is not a registered reason.
Even if you die in your sleep, you're supposed to have left us with a reason other than just 'peacefully checked out'.
   I have been a care assistant in a home for the elderly and a home for disabled adults.
In one case, a 45yr. old woman had been successfully revived in a horrendous car accident where she lost her beloved husband.
She was left a paraplegic, with a colostomy bag.
Unable to communicate except with her eyes. (Some times she would blink out the alphabet until we could guess what she was after.)
She would have painful fitting, howling in her agonising prison.
   I would rather have left this world. God's hands are gentle once death has taken us.
Paramedics are duty bound to bring in a patient 'alive.'
Alive is: Breathing.
For doctors, when they take over, can be action of further proportions. (I use this term loosely, as I am not a doctor.)
   My mother and I spoke of her 'wishes'. She told me that most doctors believe in euthanasia.
But only a small proportion of them would enforce it if they could.
It conflicts with their 'duty' as well as their moral obligation to human life.
   As medical technology gallops along side the Apocalypse horses, morality has become a strained
subject.
I am a Christian, my relationship with the Lord is loving, trusting and respectful.
At my end, I hope to have peace, to leave peacefully and to leave peace behind.
I don't want any jumped up medical ethics sticking down my throat or up my backside or thumping electric currents through me........
Because nobody wants to be around if I wake up!
Just because you can bring someone back to life, doesn't mean you should.
Most people whom are dying, know what they are doing.
   With my own Father's illness with M.S. we all suffered his deterioration and wilful self neglect for 25 years. This included alcohol and mental abuse if said alcohol was withheld. He was taken kicking and cussing to rehab, only to come back mean as a half starved raccoon.
Mum had to leave the house most days at 5:00 a.m. to get to the glazier factory where she worked.
Dad died one morning of a massive heart attack.
He was found by home care workers.
The police were called and were waiting for Mum when she got home, exhausted from her manual labour.
That, was more or less ....that.
   I can tell you one thing for free though, if anyone had found him earlier and revived him,
Mum would have taken them 'round back and given them a damned good seeing to!

   I want to die young.......as late in life as possible.
Love Val X.
  
  

Maurice'Wild Thing' Sendak

Born: June 10th,1928 Brooklyn N.Y. Died: May 8th,2012 Connecticut
   No you haven't stumbled upon an obituary article, but just a few minutes to remember what a truly odd man he was.
I mean this in the nicest possible way, as he is the American story teller that told children 'no lies'.
He felt it was important to be able to relate to them, giving them a voice.
I spent all afternoon familiarising myself with the man and what I knew of his illustrative story telling.

   The Sign on Rosie's Door- is a tale straight out of my neighbourhood when I was about eight years old.
If the Rosie in the story book was known to ride down the hill on her Mustang bike with the banana seat/ skate board, only to discover how worlds apart those things really are when you let go of the handle bars........
Heads-up....the seat is for your bum,
Handle bars are for making sure you don't burn-up on re-entry.
    If this Rosie had done that, plus all the thing described in his brilliant story, .....he was probably spying on my friend Cathy and I!

   Very Far Away- is a story from where even at my age, have not strayed too far away from.
Or indeed as I say this, it feels as though I probably wasn't that odd a child.
Peculiar at best.
Next, was my best memory of his work, was at school, reading 'Little Bear'.
Comfort, pure, unadulterated security.
Sadly, all I could pull up was the telly adaptations that someone had taped off their telly.....in the dryer by the sound of them, then popped them on You-tube.
   I have a yellowing paged edition of Little Bear, that I found in a charity shop. It still creates that feeling of safety and accomplishment.
I may have walked to the beat of a different drummer, but I was a damned good reader.
Thanks Mr. Sendak.

    Last but not least- Where the Wild Things Are.
My experience of that classic was during my time as a Pre-school teacher.
I loved building the suspense....doing the voices, softly with a hint of mischief, then loud rolling my TERRIBLE EYES!
Then the children rolling them back, because, you never knew.......
One thing for sure, their faces never glazed over and they Always, wanted to hear it again!
I think I may have turned them into suspense junkies.
Again, Thanks Mr.Sendak.
 
   As I heard him say in an interview:
"There is something living underneath it,"
"And you can bury anything you like in it,"
"When you hide a story inside a story, this is what I am telling the children."
26.03.2009
Maurice Sendak on what being an illustrator means to him. (DVD by the Rosenbach Museum and
Library in Philadelphia.)

Beauty, eh?
Love Val X

A Nation of Hypocrites

   I have almost let the week run out again, I was looking for a little inspiration in my almost expired weekly R.T.
The publication has not let me down.
A debate has arisen between Chris Packham and Janice Turner on the touchy subject of urban foxes.
I applaud both for expressing their unyielding opinions.
   My question, based on all I have observed on the wiley critter is; what makes them so different from us as an opportunistic creature?
We both have the instinct to make our lives as comfortable as we can manage, to provide for our cubs, and to keep ourselves in one piece whilst doing so. Is that so wrong???
I have to however side with Chris Packham, in his attitude towards the creature.
I feel the fox has been depicted as sly and savagely selfish by our authors of childrens' tales.
    As we encroach on the environment that they depend on, they are driven to unusual and inconvenient mischief in order to raise a family.
They will continue to be apart of our lives in this disagreeable way unless we take precautions.
Where I come from, people have to take precautions, so the same thing doesn't happen with raccoons and bears.
Just what do you think the carnage would be like if you don't close the lid on the bear-proof bins?
By the way, raccoons are not cute. They're huge!
Bears are volatile. Also, huge!
Foxes fall into pretty much the same category. Not so big though.
As much as I'd like to keep chickens, I can't.
We live in a high risk/ high probability area of seeing or having our dogs rolling in blinding bliss in their tar-like poo.
   I have heard their manic mating cries in the summer that resonate around the neighbourhood.
If screaming roosters could bark, that's what it reminds me of.
Other times, we have been treated to a rare observation of our four legged canines at their best.
Illusive, keeping to the shadows.
Tearing with unbridled thrill and passion at being alive in the sheer joy of running full pelt across a frozen field.
Creeping wearily into a back garden and curling up where the snow does not fall, or where the wind does not blow, under a huge conifer. The timid and cautious male and female take turns to rest.
It seemed I was intruding on a very intimate moment between them.
I have also seen a fox in it's decomposing worst.
I wouldn't like to speculate what happened there.
If the creature was poisoned, what else would be effected?
The amazing kites that have graced us with their presence? Or anything else that eat carrion?
   Hmmm, we think we're so smart and righteous in all that we do, without a lot of consideration on how we effect others.
   God did not give us wildlife for our general amusement and relaxation. He did not create the natural world around us, so we could tear it down and have our wicked way with concrete in our  defining feature of good and bad.
God created the beasts of the air and of the land and of the sea, because together we would be able to share His earth.
In the beginning, before Adam and Eve were driven from the garden, they did not eat meat.
So animals and other creatures keep this land we enjoy ticking over in the cycle of life as God intended.
   So just think about that the next time you can't close the lid on your bin full of food past the 'use by' dates.
Love Val x

Wish I had stayed in bed.

   Just when you think you've got a day mapped out.
I had to hold my hands up and throw myself on the mercy of the bus driver, having given in to applying for a new bus pass.
At first, I resented having to pay the 'lost' penalty, but I've already spent that on petrol in the last three days driving her myself!
Could she please, PLEASE, get on the bus in the meantime? (Flashing my best impersonation of Puss from Shrek. Which probably in reality made myself look as though I was suffering from a nut allergy.)
I was driven to do such a thing because I was crazed with traffic tension.
I didn't fancy finding out which one was going to crumble first, me or the 'billy cart'. (car)
That night, I went to bed frazzled, but relieved the bus driver took pity on my tangled facial expression.
I agreed, appreciating what would be fair in front of the other children. I had to ask.
   The next morning, I watched the animated exchange of understanding between the Peep and said bus driver.
I mentally punched the air, as the bus drove away with all the peeps on it!
The dog would get a longer walk that day. 'Yes!'
   That same afternoon, I get home from my part time job and crack on with the south face of the Edgier looming from the laundry hamper in the kitchen.
Every thing happens in the kitchen. Art, cooking, disco, coffee house, office and yes, laundry.
I have the radio turned up while the washing machine is doing zumba in the corner.
Can't then hear the phone ringing.
Eventually, I hear the answer phone kick in.
It's playing dance music.
Then my bag goes off like an angry hornet.
While all this is going on, I'm doing my best to inhale a humus salad wrap and trying to pull up a documentary on the lap-top. I couldn't seem to do either successfully without it escaping through the other end.
   Anyway, this hornet wont give over and I answer it.
Three missed calls from Moopa and two from li'l Peep's school. The school try again.
Uh oh.
"Your daughter has had an accident. it probably needs looking at. Can you collect her now please?"
"As soon as I can!"
   Right, kicked myself into fifth gear, ......remember pain relief, call Moopa, turn off lap-top, take dog out for a wee, wipe humus off jumper, stump impatiently around outside because she won't wee.
All and more accomplished and I rattle off to try to beat the mounting Friday traffic.
   When Peeps came out of the sick room, it looked as though she had shoved her games jersey down the side of her sock. Needs looking at,... I can see it from here thanks!
Nearly made me sick!
Off to take my busted up little soldier off to minor injuries.
They know us there.
I wanted to cuddle away the pain, she was in allot of it. Right, hospital.
The urgency was desperate as she felt every bump in the road, finally get there and she can't even hop.
This isn't just any injured ankle, this is an M&S injured ankle.
   Life stood still after we signed in.
Finally the ex-rays. Then a discussion as to what next.
Maybe they were closed at the fracture clinic, but they decided to treat whatever was going on as a break. The plaster was gargantuan and weighed a stupid amount.
Consequently, she stayed in bed for three days trying not to move. Pain relief just never seems enough. 
Thus, I prayed for a conclusive out come of all this at the next visit to the fracture clinic.
Our prayers were answered, we all mused over this odd ex-ray and decided it was tendon and ligament damage.
Peeps is now the proud owner of a much lighter, light blue cast.
Her big sister has given her a much needed pedicure and love heart designs on the top.
Now, I wonder how I'm going to get her to into the non-negotiable rain protection, so she doesn't come home with a carrier bag full of unravelled light blue cast.
    Still can't find her bus-pass.
Love Val X

Oh St. Anthony, Where art thine....stuff?

   My husband's Nan used to call upon St. Anthony when ever she couldn't find something.
Are there rules to the St.Anthony method of finding things?
Do you have to call his name out three times......then turn twice, counter clockwise in stocking feet?
Simutaniously throwing salt at a black cat whilst saluting a magpie?
   St. Anthony's abode is probably constructed from all the stuff we've ever lost. He's not giving most of it back!
He's probably yelling things like, "Get a NEW one! That'll teach you for taking your eye off the ball, ya Muppet!"
I guess once your canonised, you can be as harsh as you like.
   The more important the thing you're trying to find, the more illusive it becomes.
You put something down and sometimes, in as little as thirty seconds, the damned thing is gone!
Not only that, you can't remember what you were doing, or coming from, when said item suddenly becomes animated and independent at the same time.
It is the sort of blank you suffer from when some one says, "Turn over your paper....your time starts ,NOW."
This renders your capacity to piece the trail together completely useless.
The longer you are lured away from the 'thing' you need, the more likely it is beginning to look like you ARE going to have to buy a new one.
Only then, within the week, will you find the original.
This only applies to something that is replaceable. If you've lost your friend's hamster....sorry, but you are on your own. I Don't want to get involved.
   Also, Do Not put things some where safe!  Do Not lick frosty, metal gate posts! Do Not wander around trying to find a clever, SAFE place to put things until you can actually put it away.
(Not in the current book you're reading. That doesn't work.)
Put it away!
If you really can't put it away, put it in one place and make sure it's glaringly stupid!
Make sure you put it some place where you might cause yourself injury until you can put it away where it belongs.
Keys.
Buy a large feather duster to attach them to.
Choose a loud colour.
If you're a fella, um....attach them to a rubber shark.
    What ever you decide on the stupid place, have fun doing it.
The more nuts the idea, the harder it will be to become distracted when you're harangued.
In the meantime,
St. Anthony? Where the samhill is the kid's bus-pass???!!!!
Love Val X