Easy As Falling Off A Bike pt 955.

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Wuthering Dormice
(aka Bike)
Part 955
by Angharad

Copyright © 2010 Angharad
All Rights Reserved.
  
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Julie phoned from the salon for me to go and get her as we’d arranged. “I’ll go if you want to get on with dinner,” offered Simon.

“Okay, darling, we’ve got pork chops–I’ll do something different with them.”

“My life, already,” he said sounding like a poor man’s Fagin, “no matter vot you do, the rabbi von’t like it.”

“It’s okay, it’s special kosher pork,” I joked back, “I got it from the halal shop.”

“Okay, fine–see you later.”

I snorted to myself–halal meat is prepared according to Islamic law, and pork is unlikely to figure very much there, any more than it would in a kosher butcher’s. Having said that I remember a friend of my dad who worked out in Saudi Arabia telling stories of Saudis eating ‘holiday’ meat–which was pork. I have also met Jews who love bacon–the piggy-wiggy meat, not the painter, poet or philosopher.

After dipping the chops in cornflour, then beaten egg I covered them in some sage and onion stuffing mix. Then after spraying them with olive oil, popped them in a fairly hot oven, in the bottom of which, I had several good size jacket potatoes and some beetroot which were baking nicely. The rest of the roughage was provided by a green salad I made from a mix of watercress, lettuce and lambs tongue.

Dessert would be a rice pudding that was cooking gently in the Aga, and had been for several hours. If they were really good, they could have a scoop of ice cream in it, too.

Danny had helped me make the rice pud, a favourite of Stella’s–they had it regularly at her school–although I think mine is probably nicer and healthier–until you add the ice cream or even clotted cream.

Leon and Tom came in from the garden, they were both quite muddy–it had rained on and off in the morning, but seemed to dry up in the afternoon a bit more so they started putting in some plants–at least they didn’t need to water them in. The morning was taken up by checking over the mower, which I believe Leon enjoyed more than planting stuff.

The bit of the garden I can see from the kitchen is now covered in cloches or has netting over it, and regular deposits of slug pellets. I keep trying to get Tom to use the beer method of killing slugs–where you use a container with stale beer in it and they are attracted by the smell, fall in, become intoxicated and drown. Probably nicer than chemical poisons and less dangerous to creatures like hedgehogs which eat slugs and snails. The netting is to keep birds like sparrows and pigeons off the new plants.

Whilst I waited for the muddy gardeners to clean themselves up–they went for showers, having hosed down their waterproof suits and wellies–they looked like green astronauts without the helmets–I went online and ordered some of the slug traps which use beer.

Burying jars in the garden reminded me of experiments we did in checking populations of invertebrates, by planting jars level with their tops in soil and waiting for insects and other critters to fall in and drown in the chemical soup contained in the jars. It’s amazing what you find the next day–ants of umpteen species, spiders, centipedes, springtails, caterpillars, slugs and snails and so on–there were no puppy dog’s tails–I did check very carefully.

Simon and Julie were back just in time for Buzz Aldrin and Neil Armstrong to emerge from the showers. It always made me smile that only Nasa could land someone on the moon using a mission named after the Greek god of the sun–Apollo. There’s a huge ruined temple to him on Cyprus, which coincidentally is where Aphrodite is said to have emerged from the sea.

Dinner was a reasonable success, and I even got agreement to try the beer traps from a reluctant Tom. The chops went down very well, with the exception that the kids found it annoying to have bone under the coating–but the adults loved them. One or two of them also loved the rice pudding.

That night, everyone seemed very tired and went to bed early on a promise that on Monday, we’d go to see Henry and Monica at the hotel at Southsea. Julie and Leon decamped to the garden, there’s a little bower seat with some protection over it, where they went to suck out each other’s tonsils much to the amusement of the younger children. I put them to bed, the younger children–duh–and read to them.

At nine, Tom took Leon back home with his bike in the back of the Mondeo, and I had a cuppa and wandered off to bed to read my book, a whodunnit by Simon Brett based at an imaginary sea-side town just along the coast in West Sussex, called Fethering. They are very corny, but so well written and despite them being murder stories, they can be very funny–laughing at Middle England and some of its eccentric characters. I picked up a book in a charity shop, The Body on the Beach, which was book one in the Fethering series, so was likely to read some of the others. My time is so limited, reading for pleasure is such a luxury, that I revel in it, much to Simon’s disgust, he was watching the football, I think. Actually, I didn’t care–I was in bed with the urbane and erudite, Simon Brett.

So much for reading–two chapters and I zonked. It wasn’t the book, it was total knackerdom, I couldn’t stay awake. Simon, that is, my husband Simon, removed the book from clammy little paw when he came to bed at midnight. He even marked my page with a chocolate bar wrapper he found on the floor by the bed–I did say, it was pure pleasure. The sweetie paper must have fallen off when I zonked.

I apparently didn’t even wake while he read for half an hour when he came to bed. I only learned this the next morning, when he told me. I suspect he was hoping I’d wake up and make his night for him–no way–I was still sore from Friday’s efforts.

I woke up with the sun shining through the crack in the curtains, although the forecast said it would be windy. I think I heard the door shutting as Tom went off to church. He wasn’t a regular churchgoer, but Christmas and Easter and now and again was his routine. In short he went when he felt inclined, which sounds better to me than attendance based on autopilot. He said one day he would take the girls–although their attendance at a Catholic school, I suspect put him off.

He’d obviously gone to the early service–so I got up and started some coffee for him–he didn’t eat or drink anything before he went–and I had the bread maker on, so the kitchen smelt wonderful.

The boys were first down, which was unusual–they wanted to ride their bikes, so after a decent breakfast they did just that, going up and down the cycle path near the house. The girls arrived and decided they wanted to ride their bikes too, so they did up and down the drive. Julie managed to rise about lunchtime.

The leg of lamb was roasting in the slow oven of the Aga along with some onions and carrots. I asked Tom if he’d intended to visit the cemetery and he nodded as he ate his toast. I asked if he’d like company. He nodded again.

We slipped away, telling Simon where we were going, but eluding the children who were quite happy on their bikes. I wished I was riding my own, but in some ways, I felt it was also important to show support for Tom and his loss. No matter how long they’d been dead, he still mourned them, but with dignity and respect and love. I hoped I supported him with the same dignity and respect and love.

We placed the flowers on the grave and I stood back while he talked quietly with his wife and daughter. He then asked me to go and talk with them. It was always a slightly surreal experience for me. I don’t believe in life after death and all that stuff, let alone heaven and hell. However, I know by indulging him, he felt some comfort from me, and he said his wife and daughter did too. I can’t comment on that–except to say if I allowed my imagination to drift, I could sense a form of affection near the grave–so maybe he was right and I was wrong. Oh well, one day I suppose we all find out, one way or another.

The rest of the day was quite mundane. We had dinner in the early evening and the kids again went to bed on the promise of Southsea tomorrow. I spent some more time with Simon–my husband, not Brett, and he was more physical than erudite, but he’s quite practised at his art and I’m not complaining.

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Comments

A very pleasant surprise

A very pleasant surprise family day for the Cameron Clan. Those are sooo rare, it is wonderful to read about them. Jan

Great Episode !

jengrl's picture

Even with everything that was going on around her, Cathy still found the humor in it and even went with Tom as he visited the cemetery. I think it would be funny if Tom's daughter started speaking to Cathy from beyond the grave. After all the Blue light stuff that has gone on, you would think Cathy would learn not to rule out anything from happening. I have learned to think anything is possible the older I get.

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Beer traps

Probably the best use for supermarket own brand "value" beer (the kind the media are always harping on about because it's <£1/can - never mind the fact most teens wouldn't be seen dead with it, much preferring Carlsberg Special Brew [1]!), and is probably more effective than the unsightly blue metaldehyde pellets, which IMHO rarely seem to work when spread at the recommended dosage. As well as offering the mollusc a more interesting death - alcohol poisoning sounds so much more dignified than acetaldeyde poisoning :) Not to mention you get to see your victims, whereas with the pellets they'll usually slither away elsewhere to die, which amongst other things increases the chances of metaldehyde / acetaldehyde build up in predator species.

 
[1] Originally brewed to commemmorate a visit by Winston Churchill in 1950...


There are 10 kinds of people in the world - those who understand binary and those who don't...

As the right side of the brain controls the left side of the body, then only left-handers are in their right mind!

At least

Cathy had the good sense to stay at home over Easter.... Given the rubbish weather in the U.K.in April you would have to say that was pretty sensible on her part...

Rice pudding...my favourite pudding....And when its cooked in the oven you get skin on the top....Bliss

Kirri

A day in the life

Wasn't that the name of a song? No counting holes in this one.

Bike pt 955

Great chapter, but I am wondering about Maureen. Like to see how she's doing.

    Stanman
May Your Light Forever Shine
    Stanman
May Your Light Forever Shine

easy as falling of a bike

after 954 episodes I am truly addicted. To paraphrase oliver . can we have some more Please?

Slugs and Beer

There is one major draw back to using beer to attract and kill slugs. Slugs are attracted from all around the area. It's like throwing a Beer party for the neighborhood slugs. I've found that a good option is not putting the beer in the garden but around the outside to draw slugs away from the garden. It is the same with Bug Zappers always put them where they draw the pests away from where the people gather.

A good habit to adopt is to carry a table salt shaker when in the garden. Sprinkle salt on any slugs you see. They curl up and die immediately. Putting a salt lick wall (using rock salt) around the garden would be ideal to keep the slugs out as well, but is not practical.

I really enjoy EAFOAB. Please keep writing. You have my vote.

Hugs,
Trish-Ann
~There is no reality, only perception~

Hugs,
Trish Ann
~There is no reality, only perception~

Another problem with Oktoberfests for slugs

Puddintane's picture

is that it's a fairly indiscriminate killer, as Cathy points out in the text but doesn't extrapolate from there to the logical conclusion, which is a slight case of magical thinking. Anything small that falls into the trap will be drowned, some of them quite horribly.

A better solution is to alter the garden oecology to discourage animals one doesn't like, such as slugs, and encourage animals and plants one does like. The traditional garden enemies of slugs are chickens and ducks, which love slugs, although not in a good way as far as the slugs are concerned. One can also go a long way toward controlling them by keeping the garden neat, eliminating piles of rotting leaves or mulch which nurture slugs and furnish nurseries for their eggs, and mulching with chipped rocks (which dry them out), lime (not for plants which require acidic soils to thrive, but as deadly as salt to them), seaweed (one has to be careful not to add too much salt along with the seaweed), or through planting mint, rosemary, wormwood, or other beneficial plants which slugs despise. Any good nursery should be able to offer local suggestions.

Oat bran (which should be plentiful in the home of a Scot) is a good alternative to salt (which can have deleterious effects if used with abandon), and one should never discount the energy of young children, whose sharp eyes will detect hundreds of the slimy things if offered a bounty of a coin or two for every slug turned in for execution.

Cheers,

Puddin'

-

Cheers,

Puddin'

A tender heart is an asset to an editor: it helps us be ruthless in a tactful way.
--- The Chicago Manual of Style

Slugs

SWMBO is the family gardener (I think 3" of concrete is an excellent top-dressing) and comes from market gardening stock. Her technique is to go out at dusk and load a dustpan with slugs before chucking them over the wall into the field next door.

Of the alternatives I think the beer trap is better - what a way to go but it's a waste of beer. Salt is effective but would seem to be unnecessarily cruel. I suppose having free range poultry is OK for slugs but aren't they likely to scratch up young plants? I don't know. As I mentioned, I'm no gardener and forbidden to touch it.

Robi

PS I suppose I should thank Angharad for giving us an off-topic to discuss. So thanks :) I'm amazed you succeeded in posting because I couldn't get on last evening. Hope Erin and Bob's problems are soon and easily solved - so thanks to them too.

Chickens

Puddintane's picture

will eat some plants, vegetable crops especially, so one has to be judicious about where one lets them roam, but will prefer chickenfeed and table scraps over most flowers. I let mine roam the yard at will, and had a little egg hunt in the mornings to find where they'd made a nest.

One has to be aware of how chickens think: They love freshly tilled dirt, which they view as an ideal spot to look for worms and grubs, so it's a bad idea to let them in on fresh transplants, and they need some clear space to arrange themselves a dust bath, which they use to clean their feathers.If your garden doesn't have a suitable spot, they will arrange one. Chickens quite like people, and stay voluntarily if one treats them right. Their natural habits are quite compatible with most human gardening activities, as they've made their living at this for thousands and thousands of years.

One also has to see to it that they're not starving, so table scraps and the odd bit of chickenfeed should be given as necessary. One wants them a little peckish, as it encourages them to look about, but not starving, which makes hem indiscriminate browsers on almost anything. It all worked out nicely. They were big enough that my cat didn't bother them, so he spent his time gazing over into the small farm behind me, admiring the horses, and undoubtedly wishing to be one.

Cheers,

Puddin'

-

Cheers,

Puddin'

A tender heart is an asset to an editor: it helps us be ruthless in a tactful way.
--- The Chicago Manual of Style

Red

It's also useful to note that chickens love the color red. (While most mammals can't see red, birds can, and chickens are positively attracted to the color.)

So, if you let the chickens loose in the garden, they will go straight for the tomatoes, strawberries, raspberries, or whatever else is in season.

We have our garden fenced in to keep the free range birds out. We shoo them in after harvest to clean up extra bugs, weed seeds, and the like, as well as to add some needed nitrogen.

Some people use two fences to create a 'moat' around the garden. Any slug or bug that wants to nibble on your veggies has to get past the hungry chickens.

Ideally, I would like to build two or three fenced enclosures. Use one as a garden, and and keep chickens in the other two. Next year, let the chickens into last year's garden and plant last year's well fertilized and weeded chicken pen.

Given the opportunity, chickens will denude an area of all plants (except for the ones they don't like -- which are few and far between.) Some people let the chickens into the garden just before dusk so they have enough time to collect bugs, but don't do too much damage to the plants.

Summat's wrong.

It wouldn't let me log in jus now.
I wrote a note last night but it wouldn't stick to the wall.
I think I'm in now.
Anyway, nous retournon's nous moutons.

Love the old idea of the intoxicated slug-fest. You end up with drunken prickly critters all over the lawn. My cat Suchie hates it when the hedgehogs have a party and they're so noisy when they're drunk. Like Brits in Spain.
When she comes in she glares at me and miaows something about 'there goes the neighbourhood.'

bev_1.jpg

Ahhhh, the wonders of a properly cooked Pork Chop!

You very nearly ruined my prayers for 40 days gel! The Pork Chop recipe, OH YUM!

I was an Okie hick who was raised on Pork Chops, Fried taters, and Okra. We'd wash it all down with whole unpasturized mild, and have some puddin, or a bit of chockie cake.

I say this as I sit her with Tomato soup and flat bread with Humus. Not a good substitute.

Gwen

I'm Still Not Caught Up!

But I'm commenting anyway because you asked us to vote but we can't! {Wail!!] So, the only way I can register my vote is to say, "Ang!! I vote for you!!"

Yours from the Great White North,

Jenny Grier (Mrs.)

x

Yours from the Great White North,

Jenny Grier (Mrs.)

slugs

I prefer the beer over chemical any day least in my strawberries.

i'm not sure what you use as a trap, but, my family, and now me, generally just use large lids from used up manyaise jars. putting the along the parimeter of the berries & then going down to local tavern, & asking the owner I've known for ages to grab a couple of gallons of the draft they served the night B4 , slugs seem to prefer the cheaper as much as the expensive. I usually get my beer for free also, because if it hadnt been diverted into my jugs for my purpose would of just fed the sewers.

we've done this for yrs with good success & my strawberries end up pretty decent.

I love this story!

I've read about 400 chapters in the last week, so I expect to catch up to you soon. I am always amazed when I see you have something like 2 kudos-is this a joke? I expect several hundred, but 2? Your stories are much better than that! I have to admit, I've become quite addicted!
You inspired me to start writing, and when you commented on my first story, I was in heaven! I hope that Bike continues for a long, long time!

Wren

Kudos and the Distant Past

Puddintane's picture

This portion of the story was written back in the Dark Ages when there were "Votes" instead of "Kudos," and the "Votes" didn't translate well into "Kudos." I suspect there was some confusion over the proper plural form and the dicey translations between Latin roots and Greek equivalents.

Cheers,

Puddin'

A tender heart is an asset to an editor: it helps us be ruthless in a tactful way.
--- The Chicago Manual of Style

-

Cheers,

Puddin'

A tender heart is an asset to an editor: it helps us be ruthless in a tactful way.
--- The Chicago Manual of Style

Slug control

A very good and safe for the environment way to control slugs is to get copper flashing (the type used for roofing and decks/porches). Putting a border around the garden that has a 3 inch strip of copper covering it will keep the slugs out. The slugs will not touch the copper possibly due to a very mild electrical charge that develops when they touch it. I also like to border my veggie garden with marigolds (not for slug control.) Oh, and my veggie garden is close enough to the kitchen door that any time I use eggs I just throw the shells into the garden (all other kitchen veggie waste goes into my compost bin.)

Two out of three

Of my closest loved ones made themselves known to me when they passed. Perhaps I am deluding myself, but it is a comfortable delusion. I still grieve for all of them, strongly. The people who insist on calling it forced growth have no clue, none what so ever.

My second story has strong elements of these chapters (you have written several). I am a strong believer in an afterlife, but I don't think it is known by people who claim to have the answers. We grieve for ourselves, Death is a beginning.

The afterlife, when you know one way or the other, it's too late

Well, when God was giving instructions to Noah. He said to bring 12 pairs of clean animals to the ark, and also 1 unclean pair . Vat chu tink eh?, a pig?
Nice to see Leon's uvula gets a workout regularly. Is that snorking?

Cefin