3 January 2010 DIRTY NAILS BLOG by Joe Hashman SHE WAS THERE
She shadowed me down the stairs and as I dressed in front of the fire. She waited, then pressed on, impatient with my faffing about, then scampered like a mad thing whilst I nursed a mug of tea and strolled round the garden in the frost.
After breakfast, a drink and a game, she tip-toed across the cushions to settle on my lap, content and smiling, as I read a book and sipped my second cup.
We been a bit slack promoting Wassailing this time around,
lululemon sale. A combination of Xmas, New Year and other stuff. But the word is out, by mouth and email. It on Wednesday 6th, 5pm for 5.30 and features toast, hot cider, a fire, noise and magic.
In preparation I took Peter mower down there from mid-morning one o and cut the grass.
During autumn, Arthur hacked a path from the benches round along the church hedge and boggy bit then up to join the other which takes dog walkers out on to The Butts. I lifted the mower blades and forced machine through and back a few times to re-establish this now fully circular route.
It been a fine if frightfully cold morning. Chris and Brendan turned up, swaddled withcoats and scarves. In the company of a bullfinch, whistling like a half-hearted Dixon of Dock green in the blackthorns, tits, robins and other finches, I got down to just a sweat-shirt and was steaming underneath my hat.
Helen, who lives next door, strolled out to share seasons greetings. We stood and chatted for ten minutes in the crystalline sunlight. During the conversation I noticed she was wearing sandals but no socks!
Now, job done, the magpies have moved in. A pair are turning clods of grass and picking amongst scalped-but-frozen molehills to see if anything edible has turned up.
Chat Sentinela
