Bears are not generally a problem in the UK, but bird-feeders do attract squirrels.
We have squirrels too - as you say, they're ingenious buggers that tend to scoff the birdseed whilst hanging upside down like some sort of ninja lunch thief.
None of them have managed to rob the hummingbird feeder yet.
Like Lamb Chopped, I came from a poor background and I cannot read music at all. Very few children on my council estate learnt an instrument or to read music (heck, some school leavers struggled to read a sentence in a book). I know this might be controversial but I consider the ability to read music as one of the indicators of class in the UK.
I must disagree. I came from a working class background but music filled the house. I do think our church background had a lot to do with it, though. Dad had been a boy treble in the church choir. He was often heard singing bits from Messiah. At his funeral his “ golden tones” were mentioned and I realised how much I owed him, musically. We sometimes sang quartets. Mum could just about play enough by ear to accompany hymns, but music was inherent in us all. I taught myself to read music from a Piano Tutor book, and improved when I learnt the violin at school, though bass clef is still a bit of a mystery. I have to work out in my mind where it would be on the piano keys and that takes too long. Individual music lessons were not affordable and I have only had three individual singing lessons in my life. Singing in good choirs with some expert leaders over many years, especially with additional workshops, has been the way I have increased my knowledge, enough to understand all the squiggles and to pitch one note relative to another, within reason. Sight singing improves with practice, and I can do it if accompanied, but not so much from scratch.
Apart from choir subs, this has cost me no money.
I am just wondering how we got here, as ( most) music is heavenly, not hellish.
I sympathise with @la vie en rouge - but I'm irresistibly reminded of this (sort of) limerick:
There was an Old Man of Dundee
Who was horribly stung by a Wasp.
When they asked *Does it hurt?*
He replied *Yes, it does,
But I'm so glad it wasn't a Hornet.*
BTW, my sister wot lives in France once had a hornet's nest near her house - the hornets were HUGE and very dangerous...
Wasps can indeed be nuisancical b*****s, but they do (I am told) have an important role in wossname (ecology?)...
TICTH cyclists. Specifically, the plague of them that infested the road from Linlithgow Bridge back into the town earlier today, as I assume it was the reason I had to wait for nearly an hour for the bus.
Normally my wrath would be directed at Worst Bus, but I think on this occasion they may qualify for the benefit of the doubt.
Your *normal* cyclists aren't a problem, at least round here (though there a few numpties to whom the rules of the road - and red traffic lights - clearly don't apply.)
My Old Mum cycled from her house into the High Street most days, until she was 88. She only ever had one accident - on which occasion her attention was distracted by the sight of someone she knew on the pavement, and she (My Old Mum) ended up cycling into the back of a stationary bus.
The bus was uninjured, but My Old Mum's dignity was somewhat bruised, as was one of her legs...and an arm or two...
You remind me of our previous priest-in-charge, who hated anything (such as PCC meetings, or visiting sick parishioners) that Interfered With His Domestic Arrangements...
Anxiety. I consign you to hell. Fricking stupid error / oversight and I've gone orbital and now can't concentrate. It's a waste of time, energy and emotion and I can't figure out why, at this great age, I still am fearful of being told off.
I totally understand - my boss doesn't suffer fools gladly, and I can be a complete fool at times. I sometimes feel if there are two ways of doing things, I'll pick the wrong one no matter what!
Thanks Piglet and Huia ! I hate the nervous worry that i may make a mistake and am likely to just simply get it wrong - and yes the spiral - I go from zero to orbital on the downward spiral in a heartbeat.
There was a perfect example of my "always wrong" theory yesterday: because she'd told me to put everything from a particular filing basket into the internal post, always, so that she wouldn't need to take it to her other office, I did just that and got hauled up because that one item that I'd sent on was something she did want to take, but hadn't told me.
One of my colleagues leapt to my defence, pointing out that I hadn't actually been in the office when it was discussed, but did I get an apology? I did not.
I'm very well aware of my shortcomings, but I'd quite like it to be acknowledged whenever I'm not actually in the wrong.
TICTH the BBC for spending its entire TV lunchtime news bulletin on HMQ's failing health, based merely on a brief communique from Balmoral. I'm not saying that this shouldn't have been reported; however the bulletin consisted of aimless speculation and reputation as no hard facts were available. Hardly anyone dared to mention that she is a very old lady who (shock, horror) will soon die. One almost wonders if the BBC hopes that she might actually die while they were on air.
TICTH the BBC for spending its entire TV lunchtime news bulletin on HMQ's failing health, based merely on a brief communique from Balmoral. I'm not saying that this shouldn't have been reported; however the bulletin consisted of aimless speculation and reputation as no hard facts were available. Hardly anyone dared to mention that she is a very old lady who (shock, horror) will soon die. One almost wonders if the BBC hopes that she might actually die while they were on air.
We like your last sentence - it is applicable to much of daily journalism.
It's all very unseemly, I think. Some reticence at least is called for until there's a need to give out more information - and there are very many people in this country for whom the Queen's health or otherwise is not exactly a prime concern.
Indeed so. However my primary annoyance is that they're spinning out all this talk when in fact they have no news to report. Whatever happened to "the King's life is drawing peacefully to its close"?
Oddly enough, I thought of that, though not at the time (I was just 6 months old when George VI died).
There is, I suppose, some news to report, inasmuch that just about the whole of the Royal Family (or at least the senior members) including Andrew, and Harry and Meghan, are on their way to Balmoral.
No doubt the BBC's afternoon schedule will be constantly interrupted by breathless bulletins, but I guess that's only to be expected.
Indeed so. However my primary annoyance is that they're spinning out all this talk when in fact they have no news to report. Whatever happened to "the King's life is drawing peacefully to its close"?
I suspect that they're not quite in that situation yet - having been party to such message with regard to elderly members of my own family it's common for people to "rally" having appeared to be on the verge of passing. London Bridge may be creaking but it's not yet certain when it will fall.
That all the close family were summoned, and that Her Majesty was not transferred to hospital, was a pretty strong pointer that she was not going to last much longer. Although I do think that broadcasting most of the regular programming could have continued with any actual news slotted in between programmes, and interrupting them for anything of immediate importance.
There will no doubt be wall-to-wall coverage, what with tributes, analyses, and all the arrangements for the funeral - as one might reasonably expect, I suppose, - but I do hope that the Meeja will not forget that, whoever dies, the world still goes on.
Well, death, particularly a significant death, does have a way of pushing out anything and everything else. Thus has it ever been, and I'm not sure it’s fruitful to expect otherwise.
“Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone, . . .
Bring out the coffin, let the mourners come.”
Well, death, particularly a significant death, does have a way of pushing out anything and everything else. Thus has it ever been, and I'm not sure it’s fruitful to expect otherwise.
“Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone, . . .
Bring out the coffin, let the mourners come.”
Indeed so. However my primary annoyance is that they're spinning out all this talk when in fact they have no news to report. Whatever happened to "the King's life is drawing peacefully to its close"?
Which was not true.
By the time of the announcement George V was already dead following a shot of intravenous morphine by Lord Moran his doctor.
I'm rather annoyed that the reminiscences of the ABC about ER and Australia this morning reverted to saying she was the first monarch to visit Australia "since it was settled" and that Australia could then demonstrate to her what we had done with terra nullius.
I thought we had gone beyond those lies. IIRC she had gone beyond them herself.
I bought a floor stand fan for Mr. Image that he can control with a remote from his hospital bed. It said, Some Assembly Required. I do not think something that comes with 15 different parts to be assembled should say anything but, A whole hell of a lot of assembly is required.
I'm rather annoyed that the reminiscences of the ABC about ER and Australia this morning reverted to saying she was the first monarch to visit Australia "since it was settled" and that Australia could then demonstrate to her what we had done with terra nullius.
I thought we had gone beyond those lies. IIRC she had gone beyond them herself.
Indeed. Those comments were just plain wrong, and to have them on our public broadcaster.....
Anxiety. I consign you to hell. Fricking stupid error / oversight and I've gone orbital and now can't concentrate. It's a waste of time, energy and emotion and I can't figure out why, at this great age, I still am fearful of being told off.
Now I am pissed ! The error / oversight I made - missing someone off an email list - this has been replicated by others. And not by way of following my email, but using their own mailing lists. Do my seniors get similar bollockings? Or terse emails. No!
WTAF.
Anyway I prefer anger to anxiety by a country mile.
I'm rather annoyed that the reminiscences of the ABC about ER and Australia this morning reverted to saying she was the first monarch to visit Australia "since it was settled" and that Australia could then demonstrate to her what we had done with terra nullius.
I thought we had gone beyond those lies. IIRC she had gone beyond them herself.
Yet another example of Gollum's lovechild leading with his tin ears.
Anxiety. I consign you to hell. Fricking stupid error / oversight and I've gone orbital and now can't concentrate. It's a waste of time, energy and emotion and I can't figure out why, at this great age, I still am fearful of being told off.
Anyway I prefer anger to anxiety by a country mile.
The wasp thingie - baking soda. Last summer had a nest somewhere in the brickwork round the bow windows - had literally hundreds of the buggers come into the front room. Got stung a couple of times and that fixed it.
Anxiety. I consign you to hell. Fricking stupid error / oversight and I've gone orbital and now can't concentrate. It's a waste of time, energy and emotion and I can't figure out why, at this great age, I still am fearful of being told off.
Anyway I prefer anger to anxiety by a country mile.
I can't always tell the difference.
I get so much done when I'm angry. Anxiety sends me into a flat spin.
TICTH my Silly Self. The car told me to check its tyre pressures, so I obeyed, and found that all four needed some air. I duly connected up the Magic Tyre Inflator Thingy, and managed thereby to flatten the car battery.
Of course, no jump leads are to hand, but hopefully one of my neighbours might be able to oblige later when he comes home from work - others have been asked, but they, too, don't have jump leads.
Fortunately, there's nowhere I need to go for a day or so...
Jump leads have been provided, courtesy of a kind neighbour, and jump starting will be attempted tomorrow.
I was so tired after walking to and from the car three times that I could barely put one foot in front of t'other before the darkness of Night descended on Arkland.
I hope you can rest up in the Ark now and feel better when morning gilds the skies. (The notion of the darkness of Night descending on Arkland has put me in poetic mood.)
Mr Nen's going away in the morning so I'm in sole charge of the TV remote for a couple of days.
The wasp thingie - baking soda. Last summer had a nest somewhere in the brickwork round the bow windows - had literally hundreds of the buggers come into the front room. Got stung a couple of times and that fixed it.
Get a night-and-day cold and flu capsule, crack it open and make a paste with the contents. Apply that to the bites.
Comments
We have squirrels too - as you say, they're ingenious buggers that tend to scoff the birdseed whilst hanging upside down like some sort of ninja lunch thief.
None of them have managed to rob the hummingbird feeder yet.
Apart from choir subs, this has cost me no money.
I am just wondering how we got here, as ( most) music is heavenly, not hellish.
Piglet, AS host
I've got an appointment to get my nails done this evening, and the salon phoned to say could I come earlier.
No problem, I thought, and left work just a little earlier to be sure to get the 5:09 train.
Guess what - the fecking 4:08 bus seems to have disappeared and there won't be one until nearly 4:30.
And I'm going to have to pay for it, as I've lost my bloody bus pass.
Beyond pissed off now...
Little bastard stung me two days ago and it still hurts.
There was an Old Man of Dundee
Who was horribly stung by a Wasp.
When they asked *Does it hurt?*
He replied *Yes, it does,
But I'm so glad it wasn't a Hornet.*
BTW, my sister wot lives in France once had a hornet's nest near her house - the hornets were HUGE and very dangerous...
Wasps can indeed be nuisancical b*****s, but they do (I am told) have an important role in wossname (ecology?)...
Normally my wrath would be directed at Worst Bus, but I think on this occasion they may qualify for the benefit of the doubt.
Your *normal* cyclists aren't a problem, at least round here (though there a few numpties to whom the rules of the road - and red traffic lights - clearly don't apply.)
My Old Mum cycled from her house into the High Street most days, until she was 88. She only ever had one accident - on which occasion her attention was distracted by the sight of someone she knew on the pavement, and she (My Old Mum) ended up cycling into the back of a stationary bus.
The bus was uninjured, but My Old Mum's dignity was somewhat bruised, as was one of her legs...and an arm or two...
I don't have anything against cyclists per se - it's just when they bollocks up my plans ...
You remind me of our previous priest-in-charge, who hated anything (such as PCC meetings, or visiting sick parishioners) that Interfered With His Domestic Arrangements...
Just spotted this - no, indeed I'm not! Apollo Gees for any confustication!
One of my colleagues leapt to my defence, pointing out that I hadn't actually been in the office when it was discussed, but did I get an apology? I did not.
I'm very well aware of my shortcomings, but I'd quite like it to be acknowledged whenever I'm not actually in the wrong.
We like your last sentence - it is applicable to much of daily journalism.
It's all very unseemly, I think. Some reticence at least is called for until there's a need to give out more information - and there are very many people in this country for whom the Queen's health or otherwise is not exactly a prime concern.
There is, I suppose, some news to report, inasmuch that just about the whole of the Royal Family (or at least the senior members) including Andrew, and Harry and Meghan, are on their way to Balmoral.
No doubt the BBC's afternoon schedule will be constantly interrupted by breathless bulletins, but I guess that's only to be expected.
I suspect that they're not quite in that situation yet - having been party to such message with regard to elderly members of my own family it's common for people to "rally" having appeared to be on the verge of passing. London Bridge may be creaking but it's not yet certain when it will fall.
Still, point taken about the final *rally*.
“Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone, . . .
Bring out the coffin, let the mourners come.”
They even cancelled The Archers!
True enough, I guess.
Which was not true.
By the time of the announcement George V was already dead following a shot of intravenous morphine by Lord Moran his doctor.
I thought we had gone beyond those lies. IIRC she had gone beyond them herself.
Indeed. Those comments were just plain wrong, and to have them on our public broadcaster.....
Now I am pissed ! The error / oversight I made - missing someone off an email list - this has been replicated by others. And not by way of following my email, but using their own mailing lists. Do my seniors get similar bollockings? Or terse emails. No!
WTAF.
Anyway I prefer anger to anxiety by a country mile.
Yet another example of Gollum's lovechild leading with his tin ears.
I can't always tell the difference.
Yes one did me yesterday through a builders glove and into the hard skin of a knuckle
(What was that? "God created them all?" Why?????)
TICTH my Silly Self. The car told me to check its tyre pressures, so I obeyed, and found that all four needed some air. I duly connected up the Magic Tyre Inflator Thingy, and managed thereby to flatten the car battery.
Of course, no jump leads are to hand, but hopefully one of my neighbours might be able to oblige later when he comes home from work - others have been asked, but they, too, don't have jump leads.
Fortunately, there's nowhere I need to go for a day or so...
Jump leads have been provided, courtesy of a kind neighbour, and jump starting will be attempted tomorrow.
I was so tired after walking to and from the car three times that I could barely put one foot in front of t'other before the darkness of Night descended on Arkland.
Mr Nen's going away in the morning so I'm in sole charge of the TV remote for a couple of days.
Get a night-and-day cold and flu capsule, crack it open and make a paste with the contents. Apply that to the bites.