Cat days of summer

We've had company over the last couple of days, so I've taken the chance to stretch out in the sun, enjoy smelling the flowers and generally to soak in the loveliness of these late summer days.

And as usual, having company means visiting places in our city where we haven't been before. This is one of them, an old walled garden, English style.

Walled gardens have a special fascination for me. This began years ago when I was a student at the Royal Ballet School and our dormitory looked over a sunken rose garden, with a statue/birdbath similar to this in the centre. The grounds were a wonder and a delight, and had been designed by famous landscape architect Capability Brown.

At one time in my life I even dreamed of owning a walled garden some day, but now I'm content with a wooden fence!

Here's another pic for you to enjoy. This garden is maintained by volunteers and I was interested to see what a colourful show you can achieve with quite simple, easily-available and grown plants.

Nice, hey?

Frugal me?

So, Sadie the cleaning lady (see previous post) requires plentiful mugs of tea, which she likes to drink out of this:

Which comes courtesy of a dear friend back in South Africa, and originally manufactured in Australia (modern life, hey?)

Being of a frugal turn of mind (mostly) she decided it would be a fine idea to brew a pot of tea, remove the tea bag at an appropriate time, and then keep the tea warm under this wonderful cosy:

Given to her by another wonderful friend, this time Canadian, and knitted from recycled, unravelled wool sweater. (Isn't this chicken fine? Guess I've got a bird theme going here)

With the tea made, and the pot covered, what does Sadie discover? Ummm, that in order to actually pour out a cuppa, she has to remove the cosy again!

Sadie, the Cleaning Lady

This morning, in honour of a guest who'll be visiting for a few days, I'm the cleaning lady.

Hey, nice to know I'm a lady for a few hours, even if it does mean cleaning toilets and vacuuming.

So there I was, giving our bedroom a 'going over', as my nan would have said. I have one of those vacs that follow you around on a lead, sort of like a reluctant dog who every now and then refuses to move.

Under a window, I found a dead fly lying (not flying, duh!), so I whipped off the carpet attachment, sucked it up and slid the carpet beater bit back onto the stick. Yes, it gave a click. No, it didn't stay put. Instead, it slipped off while I was vacuuming under the bed. I'm sure you can picture what came next: me, lying on my tummy, reaching to retrieve it.

Sheesh, sometimes I think I should star in a reality comedy show.

However, apart from the satisfaction of a spruced-up house, I have now reclaimed a single, knee-high stocking and a paper grip. ;-)

Notebooks: Do you love 'em?

So I was chatting with a guy who used to be a neighbour when we lived back in Toronto. He lost his wife to breast cancer some years back and has now remarried. He's moved in with his new wife, but I heard that he hadn't sold his old house.

"You haven't got rid of all your stuff, then?" I asked.
"No."
"What about when you're gone? ."
"Oh," he answered. "My sons can deal with all that. They might as well have something to do."

This, to lead you in to what I was doing last night: going through old notebooks and, actually, a pile of new ones too.

The thing is, I'm starting a revision of one of my romantic comedies in hopes of getting it out in October, because yes, it's kind of a Halloween story. I thought perhaps I'd find the notebook I originally used for its writing and hoped there'd be some free pages so I could carry on. Unfortunately, not. Although many of my notebooks sport empty pages. Some of them only have a page or two written on. Some are full.

These last present a problem. Shall I simply leave them for some poor soul to go through after I've passed on? Or is it better to get rid of them now?

They're more like journals, which means they contain writings and poems that I haven't keyed into the computer. Once I've published a book I tend to throw out the notebooks. But it's still hard.

And -- confession time -- I'm kind of a collector of notebooks. I specially like the European ones from England, Italy and France. And I love a cover with a design to it, as well as bright, glossy colour. Maybe this is the reason why I'm unlikely to abandon writing by hand?

Cartoon characters

Wow! Well, if you're wondering what happened between Mothers' Day and now, I'd say... Summer! And it's been a glorious one. Lots of lovely weather, plenty of rain that often fell over night (just like in that Camelot song), so I've been enjoying the garden and generally being outdoors.

Anyhow, the other day I glimpsed a question in my sipping like a bee around the web. This was: What's your favourite cartoon character? For me, coming up with an answer is as impossible as being asked 'What's your favourite colour?'. Nevertheless cartoon characters started to pop into my mind shouting 'choose me! choose me!'. And I thought well, maybe Calvin and Hobbs, although they're two, and even though I only found them after coming to North America.

As a child I read voraciously, and that meant comics too. The name that comes to mind is Little Lulu, but really I'd pretty much dive into anything that came to hand. And I also remembered that there was a kind of tradition back in Olde England that we'd buy the latest Giles annual compilation every Christmas.

So maybe the complex answer is that favourite cartoon characters change with us as we grow older. Because (now here comes the confession!) the strip I'm most likely to smile at these days is 'Pickles'!!

You got a favourite to tell about?