Christmas Dinner and Angels.

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Thank you all for your Seasonal good wishes and lovely comments (and ‘reacties‘) on last weeks blog. You are all very kind. Many times this year, I have often thought the comments to be more interesting than my posting!

At the moment, the weather here is very mild for the time of the year and yesterday morning, as I looked out up a very sad, drab and colourless garden, I noticed my Christmas dinner approaching to pick up the seeds I had put out as bait.

Three Red Legged Partridge…….but sadly, no Pear Tree!

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Only joking. I couldn't eat such lovely wild birds.

It’s turkey for me as usual.

By now you will have all had your ’fill’ of Christmas cheer. I certainly felt full to bursting at three o’clock yesterday. Everything was just too good to leave.

  

For many years now I have shared Christmas Day with a very good friend. Not only do we share company, but also the cooking. I cook the turkey here at my place and she does all the vegetables and trimmings. I load the hot cooked turkey into the car and drive the 163 miles over to her house.

No, no! I joke about the miles. It’s a five minute trip.

This scheme works well. Using two ovens is so much easier to get things right.

Get ready!

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Get steady!

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Go!

It doesn’t get cold and is in fact ideal, because I read the other day:-

“Do let the turkey rest. It’s a crucial part of the cooking time, so never, ever, carve a turkey straight out of the oven. It needs at least half an hour covered in foil and sitting on the side, (valuable time in which to make the gravy and finish the vegetables).” 

It arrived safely and a smashing meal was enjoyed by all.

The jokes in the crackers were unusually good this year.

I saved mine and thought I’d share it with you…… 

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When four of Father Christmas’s Elves fell sick, the trainee Elves did not produce toys as fast as the regular ones, and Santa began to feel the Pre-Christmas pressure.

The Elf 'n Safety directives from the eu, were also causing extra expense and long delays.

Then Mrs Claus told Santa that her Mother was coming to visit, and that stressed Santa even more.

Later that evening, when he went to harness the reindeer, he found that three of them were about to give birth and two others had jumped the fence and were out, Heaven knows where.

Then when he began to load the sleigh, one of the floorboards cracked, the sacks fell to the ground and all the toys were scattered.

Frustrated, Father Christmas went in the house for a glass or two of mulled cider and a shot of rum. When he went to the cupboard, he discovered the Elves had drunk all the cider and taken the only bottle of rum. 

In his frustration, he accidentally dropped the cider jug, and it broke into hundreds of little glass pieces all over the kitchen floor.

He went to get the broom and found the mice had eaten all the bristles off the end of the broom.

Just then the doorbell rang, and an very irritated Santa crunched his way to the front door, yanked it open, and there stood a sweet little angel with a great big Christmas tree.

The little angel said very cheerfully, 

“Merry Christmas, Santa“. 

“Isn’t this a lovely day?” 

“I have a beautiful tree here for you – 

where would you like me to stick it?”

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And so started the age old tradition of putting......

.... an Angel on top of the Christmas Tree!

Poor old Wes, for the first time ever, on Christmas Day, he had been on his own.

Well, as I'd brought back home the turkey remains to make soup, I carved off a big plateful for him. That cheered him up no end and as I settled down with a big glass of Green Ginger Wine, he curled up on my feet to sleep it off.

(The turkey that is. Not the Ginger Wine!)

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Wired up for "Carols from Kings".

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Post Early for Christmas

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For the first time, 

I've managed to be ahead of things this year. 

I have in the past always underestimated the time available leading up to Christmas, but not this time. 

I bought my M&S Christmas pudding in November (long sell-by date), 

even a hunk of cake and mince pies are all safely gathered in!

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I buy M&S because this is one time of the year, 

when it is good to have something really nice.

And.....this year, I wrote all my cards early 

and posted them all off last Thursday.

Years ago I would buy an assorted box of 30 cards, 

but always noticed that I ended up with about half a dozen left which, to be honest, I wouldn’t have sent to my Mother-in-Law!…..No, no, no, sorry. I meant worst enemy.

Either the picture on the front was a bit naff or the words inside a bit sloppy. Sometimes both.

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I now buy Charity packs of six,  or sometimes ten, 

with identical pictures and words.

After all, if they are going to different address, who is to know?

What did amaze me this year was the breakdown of where all this money goes.

In my case, the largest ‘Christmas donation’ was not to charity, 

but to the Royal Mail.

30p for a 2nd class stamp and 39p for a First class. 

I don’t see the need for a First class stamp, 

as long as you remember to allow enough time. 

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But as Pam Ayres says - “you may want to impress you friends”.

Hundredweights of Christmas cards,

Went flying through the post,

With First Class postage stamps on those,

You had to flatter most.

Within a million kitchens,

Mince pies were being made,

On everybody’s radio,

“White Christmas”, it was played.

I read somewhere that “Dreaming of a White Christmas” 

was now considered racist!

It wouldn’t surprise me in the slightest, 

as we now seem to have everything we do monitored.

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Oh may thy Christmas happy be,

And naught but joy appear,

Is now the wish I send to thee,

And all I love most dear.

Anyway back to the cards. 

At what point does a Christmas card become charitable? 

When 100% of the card price goes to charity? 

Or just 70%... or 50%? 

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Guess again. 

According to the Charities Advisory Trust (CAT), 

some retailers selling charity Christmas cards are passing on as little as 1.1% of the card price to the charity mentioned on the back.

Online shops were identified as the worst offenders with over a quarter of internet retailers giving less than 2% to charity. 

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The CAT found that many high-street stores had improved since last year. 

Most now gave at least 10% to charity. 

Waterstones, Marks and Spencer and Debenhams now donate 20%, 

while John Lewis gives 25%.

I’m afraid I can’t afford to buy by cards from any of those four. 

I better not say how much I paid for my cards - my friends and relations might be reading this! 

What I do know, 

is that my chosen charity got the smallest slice of the cake.

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Simple daisies I have sent thee,

But they have a golden eye,

And they ever look to Heaven

Even ‘neath a wintry sky.

By now all friends and family will have received theirs, 

and now all that remains is to send Christmas Greetings to all my blogger friends and pals.

These greetings are in alphabetical order  (Sorry Zoe!), 

and I hope I have not left too many out. 

(I did worry about this actually and worse still, since uploading onto YT have remembered a few names I should have included.)

I’m sorry about this - I must be getting old and forgetful. It was an accident, I didn’t mean to miss out anyone. 

We are all friends here.

So to ALL my blogging friends -
(plays full screen - I hope)

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See you all next year.

Cheers....Bernard and Wesley. xx

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Boxes of Goodies.

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I did a post, years back called ‘Little Boxes’.

It was prompted by the song of the same title.

The boxes I was referring to then,

were boxes of things I had that needed restoring.

Today, however, I am prompted by totally different boxes,

in fact parcels.

I will now flip back to just after World War II,

around 1946-7 when I was five, and living at Thackeray Road.

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Little B at Thackeray.

I can remember a very impressive box that arrived there one day.

It had come from a family in the United States.

When opened, it revealed its precious contents - food!!

Yes, it was a food parcel!

You are going to ask how I could remember this.

Well some things stick in your memory don’t they.

I can remember things from those days better than I can remember phone numbers and even names from yesterday!

And why does it remain a memory?

Because the parcel contained amongst other things, a tin of pineapple.

After all the dull flavours of war rations, this taste, my first taste of pineapple in fact, was something ‘out of this world’.

These parcels were sent over from the US by kind Americans and Canadians who made up boxes of goodies that they thought we might enjoy.

There was a name and address enclosed

and Mom would have written to the family to thank them.

How families were chosen to receive these I have no idea,

but every food parcel being made up, would be different.

I can only remember the pineapple,

but I expect there were other things like tins of ham, sausages, fruit and even tinned cream. Of course there could not be anything fresh as these parcels came over by boat and the journey would have taken weeks.

I vaguely remember a tin of salmon being included but I don’t recall trying it. I bet my Mom polished that off.

She adored salmon.

Back now to December 2011.

This morning at 9:05am I found this in the porch.

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A parcel from California.

It had not taken five weeks to ship, but just over five days!

And on reading the ‘Customs Declaration’ - it contained food!

To be honest I had been tipped off

and was looking out for the postie.

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He rode straight past at eight thirty -

not even a Christmas card today.

This parcel arrived half a hour later by courier.

It was from my blogger pal, Jan,

in Sloughhouse, California

and contained the promised home-made Cookies.

I mailed her straight away to thank her

and to let her know that it was safe

and sound and not just a box of 'Cookie Crumbs!'

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"....boxes of goodies that they thought we might enjoy."

You bet!

Gosh Jan. You have packed those well.

Each Cookie type in its own wee box.

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Chocolate Chip Cookies

and

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Chocolate Cookies

and

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Peanut Butter Cookies.

That, by the way, is Jan's message on the box!

He, he!

And to cap it all, a 'Christmas Pressie'.

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I shall open that nearer Christmas Jan.

Thanks ever so much. {Hugs}

Now as the saying goes -

"The Proof of the Pudding is in the Eating"

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Time for Cookies and coffee.

Mmmmmm.

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Says it all, really!

Many, many thanks. More {hugs}

I popped up all the pictures above so Jan could see that her excellent packing protected all the important contents which all arrived safely.

Not one broken biscuit. (sorry- cookie!).

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PS How long will they keep Jan?

(in a Biccie tin of course).

(Cookie jar?)

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A Tough Choice for a Young Boy.

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When I was at junior school, probably aged nine or ten, we were quizzed as to what we thought we would do for a living when we finally left school.

At that age it was not really a career decision, but I remember all the girls wanting to be nurses and secretaries, and most of the boys wanted to be engine drivers and things like that.

I remembered all this, because the class laughed

when I said I wanted to be a chef!

Well, it never came to pass.

At Grammar school, there were again discussions with career advisors, and being good at Art, I thought I would get into ‘Stage set design’ or maybe ‘Book illustration.

“There’s no demand” they said,

and “Certainly no money to be made.“

“ The future in in technology and especially electronics.“

I enjoyed the art classes. You always enjoy things that you are good at.

Whilst sorting out old photographs from my Grandmother’s house, I found a sketch that I had done when I was nine.

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Granny had kept it all those years.

It was done in ’ball-point’ pen and for a nine year old, not bad, considering that you could not rub out any mistakes, as with pencil.

At Grammar school, we had proper art classes, and guess what?

I was always coming ’top of the class’.

I still have many of my drawings and illustrations from those days.

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Bernard - class 5 a1

Here's a few. I hope I don't bore you.

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And for 'Grey Fergie' lovers -

(complete with rusty staples, at the top.)

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And for any up a Welsh Mountain?

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Moel-y-Myddfa or is it Molly Mithfa?

But my favourite subject was birds.

(in those days - only the feathered ones!)

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Sorry, there are no chickens.

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Close up of the above, Golden Eagle.

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A page of Tits.

(this is not 'page three' by the way!)

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A Peregrine Falcon.

And finally - the dreaded exams!

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Illustration Paper I - Art O Level - 1959 Wed 24th.

Object Drawing Paper III - Art O Level - 1959 Thur 2 July.

Guess what? I passed.

I was torn between what I enjoyed

and what seemed at the time,

the sensible subjects to study.

I opted for Physics, Chemistry and Mathematics.

Well, that choice got me to university and into a well paid job, but I often wonder what would have happened had I decided to take the ‘arty’ route?

In 1968 I ended up here at Taplow Court,

a 'stately home' next door to Cliveden.

It was the home of

'British Telecommunications Research Ltd.'

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Of course I had to do a picture.

A 'scraperboard' from 1968.

I was there for nearly 20 years.

Perhaps I'll write up about them one day.

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Searching for a subject.

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This last week or so,

I have been stuck for a subject to write about.

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So I went digging through my piles and

heaps of sheet music for ideas.

I found this one.

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.....but I expect I moaned about fireworks

upsetting animals last year, and the year before.

And, as last year, and the year before,

I have been making Tomato soup.

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Hey Tom, I think we're in the soup!

And talking of 'being in the soup',

I notice that all the european leaders are

re-arranging the deck-chairs, yet again!

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...and making plans!

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And whilst on the subject of

being in 'hot water'.

Here's a 'clean' song -

"Singing in the Bathtub".

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And would you believe it,

here's a lady who takes her hen

into her bath with her!

Looks more like a cock bird to me.

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A soapy cock.

And this chap, has got one up on

the old rubber duck he had as a kid!

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A soapy duck.

And, still on the subject of soap,

I found this.....

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And this......

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Every bloody week I lose a sock!

And so after all this searching,

for something to write about,

I found these.

And I remembered.

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Where are the boys of the old Brigade,

Who fought for us side by side?

Shoulder to shoulder, and blade by blade,

Fought till they fell and died!

Who so ready and undismayed?

Who so merry and true?

Where are the boys of the old Brigade?

Where are the lads we knew?

Over the sea far away they lie,

Far from the land of their love;

Nations alter, the years go by,

But Heav’n is still Heav’n above,

Not in the Abbey proudly laid

Find they a place or part;

The gallant boys of the old Brigade,

They sleep in old England’s heart.

Words..... F. E. Weatherly (1848-1929)

The words are from a song "The Old Brigade".

I have the music, but only in a book of 'Parlour Songs'.

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One of my interests,

is digging out these old songs and tunes.....

....many of course, long forgotten.

But let us not ever forget the many who died

fighting for our freedom.

We will remember them.

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"Hazel's World"

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Hazel was born on 27th April 1992.

She was one of four females born to her mother,

a 'British Cream'.

(Father not known!)

I have quite a few pictures of them when they

were only weeks old.

Here's one.

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Hazel is on the right, by her mothers left paw.

She has that little streak of ginger on her forehead.

Sadly, I'm afraid Hazel is no longer with us.

She passed away on Monday afternoon,

and finally left me,

after nineteen and a half, happy years together.

These last six months, however,

had been a rather uncomfortable time for her,

with many trips to the vets.

In a kind way, I am somewhat relieved that she is at rest,

she was, after all, the equivalent of 102 in our years.

I have laid her to rest exactly where she was sitting,

in that photo in the sun, on last Wednesdays blog.

I have made a small pictorial tribute and

posted it up on YouTube.

It's just a few pictures of Hazel,

and the only world she knew, my garden.

I had her as a kitten almost twenty years ago,

and although free to roam,

had never strayed from her beloved patch.

This was the whole world as she knew it.

She now rests here in peace, under her favourite Mulberry tree.

(It plays full screen, but not as sharp.)

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I can't think why YouTube,

out of the thirty pictures there,

had to choose this one of my garden roller!

There were loads better.

But there you go!

That's life, I can't change it.

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My friend.

27th April 1992.

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24th October 2011.

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The Lawn’s a dead loss.

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One of my brothers rang last night.

"Are you alright?" he asked.

"As well as can be expected. Why?" I said.

"Well you haven't done a blog for over two weeks."

True, but there are other things in life.

Only the other day Jan, who has just retired (California) said -

"I've spent the past 30 years in front of a computer for 8 hours a day, and it's a difficult thing to change."

but, she tells me,

she is going to take up water-colour painting.

I too spent over 30 years, but since I've retired,

I have found a 'thousand & one' other things to do.

Foody also kindly enquired -

"Are you and the cats OK?"

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A song by Q. Cumber!

So, here they are yesterday watching 'yours truly',

doing a spot of garden re-design.

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My garden is essentially in two parts,

divided by a pergola walk up the centre.

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In Spring.

The lefthand side is all lawn, sorry moss!

The bit on the right is also lawn but much smaller,

as it is tucked away behind the shed and greenhouse.

I decided to convert this smaller patch of moss back into a vegetable garden as it was 30 odd years ago before I came here.

(I gleaned this from my neighbour, who has been on the other side of the fence for some forty odd years.)

So here we go.

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This is what the cats were watching me do.

I didn't want anything too big and too much work,

so opted for a small central patch with grass (moss) walkways round the four sides.

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I left the sundial in the centre and laid a couple of slabs for access.

I am going to plant herbs all around it.

No time for blogging you see.

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The roses have faded,

They’re tired and jaded,

The garden is looking quite plain.

The lawn’s a dead loss,

Just all sphagnum moss.

Oh, I wish it was summer again.

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That was a hard days graft.

I think I'll just sit in here,

in the evening sun!

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