Monthism

He said: May is my favourite month  

I thought you liked September, September is definitely the best month

September's ok but May is better, although I like April even more and March is pretty good, I like June but not keen on July. I hate August, August can f**k right off, September's nice but October is better  

That's me told

My sister has been staying with our parents, Ma has been ill and the doctors say she has to increase her fluid intake, she phoned yesterday 

Your sister has been making me soup and all sorts of drinks, she made me one of those things where you whizz up all the fruit ... a what do you call it ... a selfie ... anyway I didn't like it and I don't want another one

Mrs Blackbird has recquisitioned

a small glass tank in the garden. The Man had filled it with tadpoles  and was about to film them but when his back was turned the blackbird flew down, jumped in and splashed around, then she noticed the tadpoles and scoffed them.*

The tank has stayed there and she comes every day for an afternoon bath, the tadpoles have not been replaced but the Man buys fancy blueberries which he cuts in half and leaves them in a saucer by the tank so she can snack and swim.

*Coronovirus Lockdown has meant that all travelling filming work has been  cancelled, all the kit has come to live in our house, where it sprawls  over kitchen, dining room and garden and threatens to take over upstairs

I have never cooked a turkey in my life

this year a roast turkey will be my contribution to the family Christmas table, I shall get up at 5am to get it cooked, then transfer the hot bird into an insulated, leak-proof box and drive it for two hours up the motorway where it can join a selection of roast potatoes and vegetables on the festive dinner table.

Bringing the bird means that I must also provide stuffing and gravy. It's the gravy that will be my undoing. At the beginning of the week I watched Jamie Oliver demonstrate 'Get Ahead Gravy' - the surefire way to guarantee the Christmas meal is a smash hit. Get Ahead Gravy involves chicken wings - it turns out that I wasn't the only one watching Jamie because every last wing in the country has already gone to Gravyland. I've returned from the shops with a few drumsticks and a pig's trotter, I will have to invent a Fingers-Crossed Gravy.

In other news 

Today is the winter solstice, this one marks twenty years since I said 'I do' to The Man, I've written more about this here. Twenty years is apparently a China anniversary and I'm not sure whether we should be buying plane tickets or a dinner service to mark the event, he is currently working in California trying to avoid being eaten by pumas. He is expected to squeak home just minutes before Christmas.

how often does a thing have to happen before it becomes a Tradition?

I'm thinking at least twice.

This is my second year of getting involved with coffins around Halloween time. This time last year I was decorating some very modern bio-plastic 'Koffins' in Liverpool. This year  my 'coffin project' was to find/make a 'Bristol Coffin' for my neighbourhood funeral parlour*  - locally made from a sustainable wood source, one that will be no more expensive than the eco-nasty-cheapie MDF coffins sold by most funeral directors.

My investigation discovered a wood recycling yard near my swimming lake that is already making inexpensive coffins from reclaimed pallet planks, they will modify the design slightly to make them a little sleeker - I expect to display a photo here before too long.

Other things that have happened recently

1) The Man went to Utah to visit Bryce Canyon National Park, which is full of geological formations known as Hoodoos. He was hosted by a Mormon couple who sent him home loaded with gifts for me, these included:
a tiny white origami box filled with dried, sliced plums
a soap made from home-milked goats milk
a very beautiful oil painting of an evening landscape

2)  I bought some new everyday shoes to replace my very-old-and-collapsed everyday shoes, they are a bit hard though and the breaking-in process is making my feet bleed

3) *I have a part-time job as a Parlour Maid

Nearly Emergencies

I returned to Bristol on Sunday.  The Man took the car out then he rang me

Did you notice the hairline crack - the one running halfway along the bottom of the windscreen?

I hadn't.  I arranged for someone to fix it

that evening the Man said

my arms are achey  

on Monday morning the GP listened to his body and said 

you seem fine but we'll just take some blood  to make sure

in the afternoon a text arrived 

GO TO HOSPITAL NOW!!!!  

keyhole surgery - three stents around his heart

on Friday afternoon his son brought him home.  

We  celebrated a week of not having an Emergency with roast chicken and sweet potatoes

The Man arrived home with new hair

delighted that the barber he's been visiting for many years finally asked  -  

The usual sir?

He enjoyed the in-the-club feel of his 'usual' being remembered by the barber. Also he tells me that time saved on explaining means that he's in and out the barber's chair in ten minutes flat

How did you used to explain it?

I ask if he can make it shorter and look nice

Conversations

Scenario 1 : an almost empty charity shop this morning  
 
I am examining curtain fabric, an exotic-looking young man is standing near me, he is examining a denim coat and keeps exclaiming

Oh look sheep fur ... it's lined with sheep fur ... even the arms are lined with sheep fur  

I put down the curtains, look at him and put my hands inside the coat sleeves. He looks sheepish and modifies his claim

No ... there's not really sheep fur in the arms ... but look at the sheep fur in the body 

I open the coat fully, indeed the body is lined - with tan teddy bear fabric. It is a beautiful coat and would suit him. I say that he must have it. He declines - unsuitable weather.



Scenario 2 : a crowded waiting room in the hospital this afternoon.   

I sit by an elderly Indian lady, she is dwarfed by the enormous wheelchair she is sitting in. She rolls up her trouser leg to show me her knee, she says that now she always wears trousers:  

Sari is very elegant but it collects a lot of dust between the legs as you walk 


Scenario 3 : with The Man and His son at supper this evening

Strawberries and cream are on the table. The son puts strawberries in his bowl and then cream ... a lot of cream ... then more strawberries... then more cream
I put too much cream in, so I had to add more strawberries, but then there wasn't quite enough cream so I had to add more ...  it's a delicious circle

We're just about getting on top of the cleaning

A month ago builders came to smash down a stone wall outside our back door, as there was nobody inside the house they didn't think there was any need to shut the back door while they were working, so when I arrived home two weeks ago our home had been turned into the Sahara with drifts of sand reaching up to the top of the house.

Last week The Man arrived from Mongolia with bags of torn trousers and many types of thermal underwear, including woolly longpants  so heavy that I can't lift them on my own. These articles have been in a production line of washing and draping to dry then sorting into drawers or piles for mending.

I might have already mentioned that I am very keen on mending. I have a Massive Fan Girl crush on Celia Pym who currently has work in the Victoria and Albert Museum in London. Celia is a textile artist who specialises in visible mending, she also trained as a nurse, inviting hospital staff to bring loved but worn or broken items to the anatomy department, she mended them and this became an exhibition.

Visible mending shows the patterns of wear, the way that our clothes work with our bodies, how these and our bags, shoes or clothes become extensions of us - if these things are good at keeping us warm/dry/comfortable/happy then, like a beloved body part, they should be maintained for as long as possible.

It's going to hit minus twenty five degrees in Ulaanbaatar

Mongolia. The Man has travelled one thousand and a bit miles beyond Ulaanbaatar which I guess means one thousand and a bit miles even colder. He has been looking for snow leopards and for the last two months he has remained unshowered, unshaven and layered like a Baklava in silk thermals and camel thermals and woolies and fur-lined boots all topped with a long Mongolian Man's Coat with a special-sash-that-you-have-to-wear-with-these-coats-or-it's-Bad-Luck.


Once a week there was an underwater satellite call during which I could just about grasp that he's walking really far and up lots of hills carrying really heavy things and he tells me facts like every Mongolian he has spoken to has admitted to inadvertently licking a metal thing in this fierce cold and needing help to get separated, also Goat Fat Stew is delicious and alcohol made with fermented mare's milk is 'quite nice but tastes like goat'.

The Man reckons that the walking and the weight of the kit and the weight of the clothes combined are reducing his body weight but he can't tell because in all these weeks he has never unwrapped those layers. That's two months without a shower - and I get to welcome the smelly hairy marvel home tomorrow night.

In other news
a film about ants and Sir David Attenborough will air on the BBC on 8th December Xmas -ish - look out for it if you can, I shall probably mention this again. 

When I meet a new cat

 -  it is important that I put my bag on the floor so they can have a sniff and see what sort of thing I am.

Just as I've been pussy-footing around in London, The Man has been in Chile filming pumas - big grey cats who wear a lot of mascara - sassy cats. 

I watched footage from a recent trip - pumas in their hundreds were creeping up on the crew, a cameraperson might feel a whisker touching their arm then slowly get up to do a controlled crouch-ey backward walk away from dinner time.

This action looked great played backwards but nevertheless I was a bit alarmed - the numbers, the closeness !!!

I was assured there was nothing to worry about

They're just bag-sniffers, they're exactly the same as your cats

I dreamt my room was full of people

On Friday I returned from my London studies to spend a little time with The Man who was home in our house for  a brief moment between his filming trips. The quietness as I turned the corner near my home broadcast the fact that Cheesey was no longer occupying the tree outside my bedroom window. 

The Man left for Sri Lanka yesterday afternoon

While I slept last night a crowd of people wandered in to my bedroom and sat around chatting, laughing, drinking and arguing.  I woke up and challenged them about their intrusion - they said that they'd been doing it for years and had assumed I didn't mind. 

My head, clearly unable to cope with this new solitude, is re-peopling itself when I'm not looking.

Yesterday at 5 am

I drove the Man to  where his filming crew, a big pile of suitcases and a bus were waiting for him to start a journey to Costa Rica where they will make another film about animals.

Today at 5 am I drove Kanako to the airport so she could start her journey back to Japan, we did a lot of crying and then I went home and cleaned our empty house and then I filled the car with logs and jumpers and cake and drove to London. 

I drove to Putney, to the house I am taking care of during school term time - the house with the Rude Mad Man next door. Currently it is also the house-with-a-broken-heating-system-until-a-Man-comes-to-fix-it.

While I was in Wales

the Man started putting out food for Mrs Bird. 

I was hanging out clothes this afternoon and she came hopping around near my feet - the Man said

she wants blueberries

I put some blueberries out on a plate

no you have to cut them up, she likes them quartered

I did this then turned my back to do some other chores, when I looked back at the plate the berries were so cleanly gone that I was sure that it must've been the Man eating them and pretending - like he used to do the Tooth Fairy. He came out behind me and looked at the clean plate

she likes some cheese after blueberries - shave a little Parmesan for her

It's like Santa Claus all over again

I've come back to Bristol

the garden is full of slugs and I'm shaking moths out of blankets as the Man appears - I tell him that we're besieged

no he says, we're popular

we are staying in a house on a hill

about 15 miles outside Rome  - there's a great view over the city

the Man is explaining the Olden Days to me


They used to stand here and look at Rome, and when Rome was burning they said 'Fuck Me -  Rome's burning!'

Happy Solstice

21st December
Today is our wedding anniversary.
We got married on the winter solstice because:
1. The Man's work life is governed by moon phases - he’ll always remember the solstice.

2. It is the date when everything starts to get lighter and therefore better


We got married in Las Vegas because:
1. The Man works away from the UK a lot and filming dates are constantly changing

2. That year he was definitely working in California until mid-December

3. The Man had promised his children that we'd have a holiday together.

Mid-December 1999 saw the children and I flying to San Francisco, where we picked up a Winnebago and embarked on the Grand Marriage Tour.

First night:
Snowy Grand Sequoia National Park. Driving on the winding hill road induced the nine-year old to regurgitate an entire packet of Oreos over himself. His father had to strip him entirely and somehow hose him down before getting him into fresh clothing, we left the set of vomitty clothes behind.

Arrival at Las Vegas:
The hotel was old but had promised a pool, parrots and palm trees. When we got there half the pool was closed and children were forbidden in the tiny bit that was left. All the parrots and palm trees had been packed away for the winter - what was left was a sleazy lobby full of people who needed a stool per butt-cheek playing slot machines.

The wedding day:
A stretch limo dropped us at the sheriff's office where we waited in line for the processing window and a lady to bash out our form on a proper old typewriter. Standing with us were flamenco dancers, cave people and a few meringue-type wedding dresses, I was wearing the dress my stepmother had worn to marry my father in the sixties, a navy blue lace shift - very Jackie O. The one good thing about the hotel was the foul-mouthed Hispanic hairdresser who laquered and tethered my hair into a perfect Audrey Hepburn updo.

After the Wedding:
Once back at the hotel the Man, overcome with emotion, collapsed on the purple satin bed, stared at his reflection in the ceiling mirror and declared himself poorly. The Children and I went out on the town without him, the nine-year-old was the world champion air guitar player at the time and managed to persuade hotel bouncers to follow us down the road playing their air guitars too.

Challenge of the evening: the brownie and ice cream mountains at the Harley Davidson café.

Christmas 1999:
Dead Horse Ranch, Arizona camping among geriatric permanent residents who wore pastel leisure suits and carried or dragged poodles around. We parked under a leafless tree and on Christmas eve, while the children were sleeping, we wrapped small items in foil and suspended them from the tree’s branches with dental floss.

New Year 2000:
A campsite high above the Californian town of Escondido. We watched Escondido’s fireworks and the trying-to-get-there-in-time traffic jam. We met some hippies who had been arguing, but then they stopped and everyone made friends and we all had a bonfire and drumming party.

This year:
We are both erratic present givers, The Man tends to panic at the last minute and grab whatever he sees at the motorway services, in the past I have been handed a plastic shopping carrier and map bundled into a paper bag. This morning I was given a very beautiful necklace made from several strings of small grey-green jade beads clasped at intervals with pieces of silver.

My gift to The Man was a dart board and darts, which were received with a puzzled look.