NICE PEAR

Excuse the smut but in these humourless times we live in I’ve gone back to my non PC childhood, a time where I remember we could call a spade a spade and not be cyber-lynched by a load of holier-than-thou trolls who couldn’t spell hypocrisy if their spelling bee app hit them in the face (literacy happy slapping – kids don’t try this at school). 

There’s nothing wrong with the odd double-entendre now and again so live with it.  We did back in the seventies, that infamous era of tartan bell bottoms, platforms and disco.  In them days, it was OK to go out for a ‘chinky’ or pop down to the ‘paki’ shop for a loaf of bread or a penny worth of sweets.  Nobody took any notice.  Nobody got offended.  Nobody had the means to tell half the world and if they had, nobody would have bothered because there was other more important stuff to deal with like power cuts and miners strikes.  Nowadays even buying white bread automatically brands you some kind of racist – such are the nonsensical politically correct times we live in.

Sorry, off on a tangent or on my soapbox as the other half would say.  In this case the pair being referred to are not my jugs but the pear tree on my patio which I planted a couple of years ago.  It’s a Conference pear and as you can see from the photo below, is currently in full bloom.

Patio pear tree - Conference

Flowers usually mean fruits in my book so I’m hopeful that perhaps this year we may actually get to taste a few home grown pears but we’ll see.  It’s a small tree planted in a reasonably sized tub but this is not likely to be the ideal growing condition for pears. 

Beautiful blossoms

It would probably fare better in the soil where roots can spread out liberally and draw nutrients from deep down.  I haven’t given it a feed or sprayed it with any chemicals, preferring to grow things very organically though I suspect I’ll have to do some background reading on how to look after my pear so that they’ll look their best. (nudge, nudge, wink, wink!)

But never mind all that.  Look out - Mr Tabbs is on his way over as the Charminster Cat Cafe has now re-opened for business.

Meow - what's on the menu?

KNITTY NORA

I’ve re-discovered the art of knitting since joining the workplace knitting group and have become what can only be described as a right ‘Knitty Nora’.  The needles are never out of my hands these days! 

Knitting, as those of you who partake of this pleasure will know, can soon become an obsessive compulsive past-time but at the same time is strangely therapeutic.  After all the chores are done, there’s nothing better than vegging out to a good movie and a spot of knit one, purl one.  This simple hobby has produced a myriad of woolly toys, hats and jumpers mostly donated to good causes both at work and to local hospitals. 

Mr Snowman

What’s more, it gives me a bona fide excuse to indulge in charity shop shopping as many often have random balls of wool and other crafty bits and pieces that can be quickly fashioned into small items for sale.  So really it’s two hobbies in one with many benefits both for me and others.

I recently picked up a couple of lovely balls of pale yellow wool whilst rummaging about in a Parkstone charity shop and used it to make fluffy chicks for Easter.  (24 chicks for £2.50) 

A basket of fluffy chickies

I’m hoping to sell these at work to raise funds for one of our charitable causes.  They’re so cute and a perfect fit for a crème egg or two.  Not that I’ll be tucking into any as my arse is already the size of a small planet with no further need to widen its orbit!

HOLIDAY HOME FOR CATS

Food, fashion, felines – cyber life appears to revolve around this unholy trinity to which I’m about to add my contribution as landlady for the Holiday Home for Cats.

Cats on holiday

Daughter’s two mischievous moggies are keeping me company this week as she’s swanned off to Austria for a week on the piste.  And what a pair they are!  There’s the ‘I’m just going to hide under the duvet cat’ called Dusty and the ‘I’m too lazy to do anything cat’ called Pookie who loves to eat, sleep and spend the day chattering to birds, flies or cobwebs (no shortage of those at home).

Dusty the duvet cat

Pookie the lazy cat

Shelby is much bemused by her furry companions, preferring to tuck into some dandelions before shuffling off for a kip in her cardboard box behind the lounge door. 

Look Dusty's not under the duvet

How about a nice tasty dandelion?

Visitors have not deterred our neighbourhood kitties from calling at the Charminster Cat Café for their daily bowl of milk and Dreamy treats.  

Cat Cafe - closed (for now)

Both Ginge and Mr Tabbs have turned up regular as clockwork only to find al fresco dining is the only available option on the menu.  Supping your milk outside on the decking bereft of a pampering is definitely not what the doctor ordered so I expect the pair of them will be relieved when the interlopers clear off back home.   

Who's that mog?

Meanwhile back on the stairway to heaven, things are taking a step in the right direction.  Two whole days of solid sanding has turned the house into the Sahara.  What a mess!  And where are those itinerant traders when you need them? Never mind a bit of tarmac, I could have press-ganged a lackey or two into giving me a hand but I guess these days, they’re too busy taking over the local parks before the Easter break to be bothered with door-to-door enquiries. 

Wood sanding by cats

They've done a lovely job

A bit of wood filler to plug a few cracks here and there then it’ll all be ready for staining next weekend which means I can take the day off tomorrow to pay homage to the ‘Papa’ (Papa Emeritus III of Ghost) at the Brighton Dome.  

Ghost

WHO? WHAT? WHERE?

Yeah, yeah, I know I’ve been the laziest blogger in town but the truth is the past 18 months have whizzed by in the blink of an eye, a sure sign of getting old so I’m told.

I’d like to think I’d done something useful with my extended blog holiday like saving the planet, finding a cure for cancer or learning how to speak Swahili.  However, my self-imposed cyber detox was just a case of real life happening – too busy being in the moment rather than living vicariously online posting photos of breakfasts, cats or outfits clearly not made for overweight, middle-aged ladies with wobbly bottoms.  By the way, here’s a picture of my breakfast in case you missed it!

Just like Golden Nuggets

So now that I’ve made that gigantic leap out of my PJs and onto the keyboard, what now?  At the moment I’m doing a Led Zeppelin and buying a stairway to heaven.  Well not exactly buying it, more like re-modelling the old one with a cunning plan to turn it from a nondescript suburban monstrosity into a model of elegance and refinement with a bit of stain, varnish and lots of elbow grease.

Two days into my project and I’ve begun to realise that a staircase transformation is going to take as long as Brexit.  I ripped up the old carpet expecting to find the previous owners had painted everything white but surprisingly, the treads are untouched and in pretty good condition.  Great!  A good bit of sanding should bring out the lovely grain in what I’m guessing is the original wood.

Stairs before sanding

Treads before sanding

And now for some stripping! Ensure front door is locked, curtains drawn and ansaphone is on before flinging caution to the wind and baring all.  Just kidding!  For those that wish to strip wood in the nud then good luck to you but as my wood stripping method of choice involves using Nitromors then I’m keeping my kecks firmly on.

Heat gun or chemical strippers?  Whatever floats your boat or in this case, leaves it paint free.  There are pros and cons to both but I guess I just like the sadistic melting effect that Nitromors produces on painted woodwork.  Accidentally drop it on your skin and it burns like acid which is why it’s so effective on even the most stubborn areas.  Brush it on then one cup of tea later, hey presto!  Lovely bubbly paint for you to scrape off.  What could be easier?

Nitromors - use with care

Actually let’s face it, stripping paint off wood is not easy or for the faint hearted.  Don’t do this at home unless you finish what you started.  Half stripped wood is like a cold kebab, unappealing in the cold light of morning unless you’re hungover.

Can I have a go?