What, Again.

On a lighter note, which is forever hard to find, I remain hopeful. I think it is in The Genes although I don’t actually know. In the days of The Village Pump some people did stand up for each other.

Full Moon tonight but I have been stuffing Black Grapes again so I am feeling fine. This remains a mystery to me. But if this is what it takes then eat Black Grapes. No, you don’t have to pay any attention to this.

But it could get a bit difficult during the next few months because there won’t be many Grapes around.

The Rotten Little Horror Story remains pure joy. I know now that he will never be house trained, but he gives back ten fold. So sometimes you have to settle for what you’ve got. He actually loves me. What sort of idiot is that?

Everything else is well in The Land of Nod. I never have gone for Eden, especially when Cain and Abel didn’t even like each other. If I had been their Mother then I would have smacked them one, so Christ knows what she was up to, other than the obvious. Adam was of course totally useless.

The Winter Solstice makes absolute sense to me. Why would you not have a party when the going is getting a bit rough? I am already planning what I am going to do, Bloody Mary’s not withstanding. This planning will tide me through when the nights are so dark. And this is what our ancestors did. It was all so simple for them.

The Moon is now just about Full and it is very bright out there. Such an amazing thing.

My Day.

Got up. Fed The Dog and The Birds and The Cat across the road. Had breakfast.

Got involved in a punch up On Forum. Mopped up a bit of blood there in. By which time I was exhausted.

Decided to have another sleep.

Woke up again. Picked up the dog shit. This little shit doesn’t half shit a lot.

Rejoined the ongoing punch up On Forum. Nothing much had changed. Still the same old same old. No one actually listens to anyone.

Don’t get me wrong. I love them all to bits, especially the bits I contemplate dismembering when I have a spare moment, starting with Heads. So my mind is littered with bits and lots of blood. The stuff of nightmares. But fortunately I never dream about it all.

I am a Moderator you see but I never Delete a Comment simply because I don’t like it, although the temptation is often nearly overpowering. Self Control, Misses, okay. God give me strength.

For seven years I have been at this Moderating lark and I haven’t half learned a lot, mostly about myself.

PS. The Subject is entirely irrelevant.

Noel.

Noel arrived early today. A present to myself. A Royal Navy Scarf. I had one many years ago but I lost it somewhere along the line, since when there has always been something more necessary and I so rarely buy anything just because I want it.

It’s been a trifle convoluted getting there as it arrived by La Poste at the beginning of the week when I wasn’t indoors so had to be collected from The Post Office. This wasn’t easy during the latest Lockdown so I had to wait for my son to collect it for me. But I didn’t mind about that. I developed a last minute irrational fear that it wouldn’t be quite so lovely as I had so long dreamed of. And 54 Quid wasn’t exactly cheap.

During my ownership of the original scarf some idiot man once told me in no uncertain terms that I had no right to own it. He was wrong of course.

But it is, it is, absolutely lovely. Navy Blue, Red and White and Pure Wool and I am going to be so proud to wear it.

I have spent most of the day taking sneaky looks at it and can hardly wait for the weather to be cold enough without looking silly. But Oh what joy. And it might even snow this Winter. Otherwise I might have to wear it in the house.

No one around here will know what it means. That is between me and The Scarf. Once Royal Navy always Royal Navy.

Moles.

Moles are endemic around here, although I have only ever seen one and that was a dead one. This was due to a crazy English Absent Owner whose garden I looked after and who thought he had every Mole in Brittany out to get him.

So every week for six months this really nice old Breton put down traps. He caught one. The dead one I saw. The Moles moved on eventually, as they always do, taking their entire family with them. The Old Breton got paid and what I had forecast came to fruition. The Moles all came back a couple of years later. No traps this time and they all went away again.

Anyway, I found a Mole Hill in my garden a couple of days ago, not for the first time in thirty years, although they don’t bother me. But O’Connor went ape shit. Ah Ha, Badgers, he thought. The hole is now two feet deep and O’Connor is still digging and still hoping. Dear of him. It gets him out. He is now convinced that I have been lying to him about Badgers, although what he would do if he ever finds one is a mystery as your average Badger is at least twice the size of him and nasty with it.

My garden is a wreck again, but I don’t think we will see this Mole again in a hurry.

The garden lawn next door is looking pristine, so the ideal place for a family of Moles.

Life as it is.

I have had meandering thoughts on all sort. None of them logical. I know that. So what to do now?

There will be No Old Folks Dinner this year, as there was No Pardon, but that’s just passing Rural Stuff.

Will everyone get a Goodies Bag this year as those who didn’t attend always got? That would be a turn up for the Local Grocery Store who get the franchise on this one. And well deserved. They are always there for what ever you forgot to get at The Supermarket, including booze because you drank it all during some lost boozie afternoon when anything was better than thinking about dying. We will all no doubt die of Liver Failure sooner. What’s not to like about that?

President Trump. I like him, although God knows why. But I suspect that he has lost this one. But Biden is going to be a laugh a minute, if you find Dementia even remotely amusing. I do find it funny on the rare occasion that I lose the plot these days, but then I’m not looking to run America. I can only hope that Biden has a laugh while he’s at it.

Meanwhile, Harry and Meghan continue to pontificate. They haven’t yet sussed that 40 isn’t old enough to know anything of consequence. Or that hypocrisy is definitely not on. Presuming that they even know what Hypocrisy means. However, I am not so smart that I think I am no longer ever guilty of this. Hypocrisy sometimes comes in hidden guises.

O’Connor. I continue to fail miserably with House Training. In fact I am now certain that he only pees in the garden because he happens to be out there for some other reason that is known only to him. Where he pees is an irrelevance. I do have a couple of tricks these days, namely that he now knows that he will get a biscuit when he comes back in, but he has to go out first, so I hope he pees while he is out there. This dog could never be accused of stupidity.

O’Connor. The year of the “O” in France. Given to him by his Breeder because this is The Law. I could have changed it if I had so wished, to Oslo, but I liked his first given name. And I wouldn’t mind betting that there isn’t another O’Connor anywhere. Or another O’Connor anywhere. Two of him would be too much for this God’s Earth. Such a joyful little soul he is.

What else? The Winter Solstice approaches and I am that sort of person. A Pagan at heart. Any old party will do to get me through to Spring and the Rebirth of Planet Earth. Only about twelve weeks now before the Crocuses appear. Not very long, is it.