Did you know that pastas are not just pretty shapes, their designs vary for practical reasons;

Buon' appetito tutti!    

I see the French have used the publication, this week, of their language version of Harry Potter and The Deathly Hallows, to take a swipe at the British class system, the bourgeoisie muggles, and various past governments within living memory, together with their prime ministers. The French leave no doubt about the individual character assassinations of those British leaders.

It beats me why the French cannot accept that they too have writers of quality, writers who provide different genres, writers that are internationally known and respected, for whom, there is no distortion of ideal or character assassination made. A bit of grace would go a long way. Meantime, Vive le Harry Potter !    

The Controller of Radio 4, Mark Damazer defended the increase in the sounds of music on radio 4, which is meant to be a predominantly speech-based radio channel, saying, " Radio 4 has not become a wrinkly radio 1."   

We don't do much about feeding the small birds till November is well established. There's plenty of feed lying around at the present time in the fields from whatever there remains of corn cutting and hay making. Cutting grain is always later here than in the south of the country and the UK as a whole. Ripening is certainly slower in our colder climes. There has been some ploughing creating more feeding opportunities for our feathered friends. Currently,the ground is still soft enough for worms to be 'beaked' up, be it in our garden or on the farmed lands around us.

As mentioned, there is no real need to put out feed in our immediate vicinity, yet.  As the usual fish stocks are not plentiful around our nearby coastal waters, the large herring gulls, amongst others, have been eking out their existence other ways all year. The gulls have encroached a little on the feed that the small birds eat that is available on the farms. Gulls tend to keep away though, as the farmers will shoot if they think there is any risk to their well tended livestock. Bird borne diseases are always a worry and no flocks of birds are welcome in farmers barns and sheds because of this concern.

Always mindful of animal predators, once the hard frosts set in we put out nuts, fatty balls, and anything else we think the birds will benefit from eating, but they are placed up high on our six foot chain link fence. 

We have benefitted from gooseberry droppings close to the house wall. We  had a small crop of fruit the last two years and if we aren't quick enough, our benefactors will peck at the gooseberries before we have had a chance at a nibble. I am sure this bonus came from about ten miles away, where I know there are some soft fruits growing in a sheltered garden, which our garden, definitely is not.

It's 9.31 pm and I am feeling weary. It's been a strange day.

a.m. Up and about early; got dressed in preparation for a funeral this afternoon.

Travelled 20 miles east to the county's major superstore. All good intentions contracted as hubby wanted me to visit a garage over that side to get a test report on a second hand duff ABS unit that was sold to him.

There were bright clear skies on the journey over, the sun was really bright and very, very low. It was blinding at times even with sunglasses on.

In the store, kept my head down which makes for minimum chatting possibilities and got on with the job. What, no vermicelli nests, never stocked them, really! Worst sin of all though, no tinned haggis, tut,tut; Quickly wrote out a customer request.

Forty minutes to get home; felt hungry, no time to stop for a snack and a drink. Bought a sandwich and ate it in the car gulped down with some water.

To avoid road works and delaying traffic lights, took picturesque back road. Got stuck behind rubbish collection vehicle and as a consequence missed my turning, so ended up travelling lots of extra picturesque miles across country. Came out at road that has road works and delaying traffic lights.

Arrived home with just enough time to unpack car, refrigerate stuff that needed it, and, in double-quick time, share a box of sushi with hubby.

Collected two ladies for the funeral. The church was very full with the balcony taking the overflow. It was a mark of respect for someone who was popular, and meant a lot of different and good things to very many people. Went to the cemetery for the committal then afterwards we joined a well attended, respectful tea and refreshments, with the family.

Decided to try for a beauty therapy appointment at the local tertiary college. I needed to chill out. Got an appointment and well and truly slept. I only hope I didn't disgrace myself too much with slack jaws, or even worse, snuffling.

Back home, completed cooking of sea food meal hubby had prepared and took a swig of the wine reserved for the cooking

Tonight, change of domestic I.D. into secretarial mode, doing hubby's letters for the irksome problem he has with the duff car part.

I think I might just put on something comfortable now, curl up, read my book and get an early night.

BBC Radio 4 news this evening 24th October 2007.

I would say, that dubious status has already been accorded to Joseph Stalin.

I'm sitting here, just having 'penned' replies to friends' posts. I was quite clear in my own mind what I was going to blog about. Now I am not so sure. Let's see what comes.

I thought about how much easier it was to get on with my day without other half mooching about; he'd gone to help a friend this morning. I got lots of jobs done and was still doing them mid afternoon, when I got a phone call that put an end to all that; "that was a marathon call you had" said hubby, who was back by then, and yes... it was. That meant the evening meal was late but he still got out for his meeting on time.

There was the gorgeous smell of home made bread when I went back to the kitchen. The bread came out of the machine looking great and yummy. It's on the rack cooling ready to be sawn into at the earliest opportunity. Oh yum!

Meanwhile, the washing on the whirlygig in the garden, was still whirling come rain or shine, but by this time it was more rain than shine. It wasn't worth trying to rescue the washing. When the weather first started throwing down wet gobs it would have been worth a try, but hubby was having an eighty winks in the armchair and I was in the throes of my important marathon call.

Tonight, again with some space of my own, the interrupted flow of jobs was completed and I got the very damp (nearly wet) washing in. No point in leaving it out any longer. After all, I don't know what tomorrow's weather will bring. I haven't checked the forecast; in any case that's no guarantee the forecast will be spot on for this bit of the world.

This was nothing like what I thought of blogging about, however, it's what has emerged and what there is. So be it.

Teeth fillings, for those of us who are lucky enough to have some that still do the job, have become a problem when it is time to pop our clogs. This must still be the largest source of mercury contamination into the atmosphere in continents and societies that have not imposed new standards of operation when cremating the departed.

Funnily enough, you don't hear much about this issue; it's obviously not a sexy subject and probably costs more money for people to deal with than it could raise in revenue.

As for getting any kind of affordable dental care, a subject that must be dear to world health care, that is another long and ongoing saga in the UK.

Tonight, We had a meal of various salads, oven chips, with the piece de resistance, moules marinieres.  We really enjoyed ourselves.  It was a great meal though hubby wasn't too thrilled with running out of mayo. for his chips.  Jars of the stuff are disappearing quicker than usual so I didn't have a spare on hand.  Anyway, as I was in the throes of enjoying my meal, I wasn't going to down shells, so-to-speak,  to make mayo for one.  It wasn't that important really, as when I offered the alternative of balsamic vinegar, hubby discovered there was more mayo. to be had from the 'empty' jar.

Must put mayo. on the shopping list. 

Last week I received a letter about a stranger's financial matters. It was to do with compliance issues. Of course, the company were most apologetic about the mix-up, asked me for the client's details and reference number so they could re-send his correspondence.

It was certainly a breach of confidentiality.  Accidental or otherwise, it was a breach of data protection, and I said as much when I spoke to the company.

So, I dutifully carried out my promise and shredded the correspondence in my possession.

Suggested 17th century herbal benefits seem curious by today's standards. A poet of the day, Abraham Cowley, waxed lyrical thus:

I am a flow'r for sight, a drug for use,
By secret virtue and resistless power
Those whom the jaundice seizes I restore;
The dropsie headlong makes away
As soon as I my arms display.

Now would you have accredited the flower of the tulip with all those virtues?

Evergreen. Winter,1987/88

Daughter, how do you manage to get involved in such bizarre events wherever you go!

You tell me that this time you have met a Ukrainian Jewish-Buddhist medium who reads tarot, who is a survivor of an Auschwitz family; he is married to a Buddhist Christian (though we're not sure which angle of the church's persuasion) who has her own escape story from slave labour; they own a manic patriotic parrot; one of them has a son, aged 33, with a sociology Phd, who is wife-less, though it is not clear if he has been attached and if he is stable and sensible. You go to a church with the Buddhist-Christian wife, trip over your own trouser flares and fall flat on your back.

O.K. then, who said there was a postal strike?

Why is it, when there is supposed to be a moratorium on mail sorting and deliveries, we get mail and not only that, what we get are bills

Tonight's visitor;

Me: What's family news then?

- Aw not much really, oh yeah, we've got a new kitten.

Me: What happened to the old cat?

- The old cat died. The kids wanted to poke it, they did, it didn't move and they decided it was dead. It was twenty years old. I went out into the garden and buried it.

-Next day, kids wanted to know where the old cat was, and could they touch it again. I said no.

Me: What's the new ones name?

- Splodge

Me: How old is Splodge?

-about 10 weeks, it's one of those kittens that's small and furry but can become really big looking and fluffy.

Me: Where did you get it?

- From a tree. the tree in our garden.

Me: I didn't know kittens grew on trees.

-Oh, it didn't, (says visitor,seriously) it grew in the tree and we plucked it off a branch.

Dum de dum de dum... nice to hear of a happy event. Today, my blog friend Pompadour gave me cheery news - Hooray! Her missing essay (the replacement for the first one) which was written in the summer holidays, has been found in the bowels of her friend's text munching computer. It was retrieved and it has been emailed to her. I am so happy about it.

It's smashing to get really good vibes. Thanks P.

BIG CHEER