Messing with CD-Wow…oops
Erm… can I just say sorry to CD-Wow for totally restructuring their management line-up without their knowledge? Lovely Kevin, who helped me out so courteously recently is actually responsible for their US business even though he writes the Irish blog (confused?) whereas I called him the Marketing Manager thereby giving the real Irish Marketing Manager a bit of a wobbly moment when he wondered whether he’d been fired without his knowledge. Sorry guys!
Woo: hark at me hobnobbing with the management team of CD-Wow eh? Friends in high places, moi.
Bald, blue bottoms: next year’s hottest look?
Poor Bertie’s bald backside hasn’t improved. Having blue skin means that he really does look bizarre – bald, blue thighs not being a good look. Recently we’ve noticed that he seems to be licking them a lot too, so I braced myself and dialled the local vet that Hubby had noticed. When he popped in to get a card they seemed very nice, and when I called them a cheery lady told me to come by in ten minutes. Impressive.
Bertie’s not used to towns and it took me a very frustrating ten minutes to walk about 100 yards from the car to the vets as we had to stop and sniff every lamp-post, car, tree and shop doorway, plus there were lots of people all of whom had to be given a friendly hello and preferably a good lick if they were short enough. The vet (when we finally arrived) was very nice and seemed somewhat of a greyhound expert. After practically giving ourselves hernias trying to lift him onto the table, first up was to rule out all the obvious things, one of which is the possibility that it’s actually Bertie’s…er…bum that’s annoying him and he’s licking his thighs as he can’t get to the actual…erm…problem (sorry, I realise greyhounds’ bottoms aren’t the nicest of subjects, but bear with me).
Vet: ‘Is he friendly?’
Me: ‘Ridiculously so. Although he has been known to crush small children’
That sorted, it was a good ol’ check up of the rear end for Bertie, who stuffed his nose tightly into my armpit as the nice gentleman he’d just met did unseemly things with his nether regions.
Once he’d had that done (ew), the vet gave him a once-over, pronouncing him to be on fine form (‘nice teeth’). From then on it was really a case of trial and error so he adopted the nose-in-armpit position again while he got an injection for mange (unlikely, but just in case – this would rule out any kind of mites – ew again), a steroid injection to stop it being itchy, and a course of tablets too. There was talk of allergies:
Vet: ‘Where does he sleep?
Me: ‘Er…anywhere he likes’
Vet: ‘Oh, well I suppose he could be reacting to your washing powder – you could try removing his bedding and sleeping him on newspaper’
Me: ‘Unlikely, unless we cover every soft surface in the entire house in newspaper’
Vet: ‘Ah. Yes I see that could be a problem’
And even some talk of a sort of stress-induced self-harming:
Vet: ‘Does he seem stressed? Anxious?’
Me: ‘No’
Vet: ‘What does he do when he’s at home’
Me: ‘Mainly sleep in weird positions on various bits of furniture’
Vet: ‘Oh. We’ll rule that out, then’
So it’s a kind of ’suck it and see’ thing really. If this course of action doesn’t work then we can return and try something else. Finally, Bertie was weighed, wormed and given a good old scratchy ears ruffly head cuddle thing, prompting instant forgiveness for the bottom episode and the injections, and we went away happy, if a little poorer. I’ll keep you posted.
Greyhounds at Crowded House Concert
Jen was asked to bring some greyhounds to a Crowded House concert here in Dublin. Unfortunately it was too far for us to drive but here’s footage from their Aussie concert.
It’s absolutely fantastic and the bit where one band member has a BEAUTIFUL greyhound on his lap getting a big cuddle is just magical. Enjoy!
Return of the Bourbonator
So we’ve currently got a houseguest in the form of Hubby’s mate, J, who is staying with us for a couple of weeks. True to form, Bertie has fallen utterly and helplessly in love with J, abandoning his normal pattern of close Mummy surveillance to traipse lovingly around the house after J. Being an enormous man-mountain of an ex-boxer (Bertie’s got a bit of a thing for fellas, hence his obsession with Hubby and D next door) and a bit of a biscuit monster himself, J is Bertie’s ideal man, adopting a kind of ‘one for you, one for me’ biscuit eating technique that makes Bertie a very happy doggy. Plus, being a smoker, J is prime walkies material. It’s a match made in heaven.
We went out to dinner with friends on Friday, leaving J and Bertie to have a boys’ night in together. When we came back, they’d shared a large pizza and all the biscuits that wouldn’t fit in the barrel and J was sitting on the sofa, looking rather uncomfy with an entire greyhound balanced precariously on his lap, burping happily.
Still, in the true manner of all binge eaters (and before I get an angry comment from J about abusing her darling boy), last night Bertie ate two clementines, several carrots and all the mushy peas leftover from dinner. That’s okay then.
Not very novel
Me Mam and the Disreputable one, although no longer together, were never (and still aren’t) that type of pushy parent that are ‘in your face’, forcing great accomplishments upon their unwilling children, bribing and cajoling in that ‘beauty pageant mom’ way that us stiff upper lip Brits particularly detest. No, they’re more the quiet, vaguely encouraging type (I think my Dad rustled his Telegraph over the breakfast table and said he’d give me fifty quid for every exam I passed, which was more than enough encouragement to a 16 year old girl with a serious shopping habit) and generally me Mam is more concerned with us being happy than being either disgustingly rich or very successful. I’ve tried her patience quite a bit…there was coming home with a tattoo: that didn’t go down well, then getting fired – or stomping out in a strop – from every bloody job I had for several years (I have a short attention span)…but hey, she’s still talking to me.
Even better, she’s a regular blog reader and last time she visited, she’d brought with her a copy of Louise Doughty’s book ‘A Novel in a Year’ reminding me that I’d purchased the exact same book about a year ago which was now gathering dust somewhere on a shelf. My computer’s files are littered with half finished plots, semi-crafted characters and descriptions of people and places that one day I plan to insert into my finely crafted novel. Somehow it’s just never happened and this book was the reminder I needed to get to work. Since then, I’ve been following the weekly exercises set in the book and I’m actually quite enjoying it.
No matter that I’ll probably be diverted by some new mad scheme in a couple of weeks (decorating, an urgent desire to bake the perfect brown loaf, a sudden spurt of exercising, Christmas…oh God, yes, Christmas…), I shall endeavour to keep up these random scribbles and to one day produce a passable manuscript that I shall file away somewhere safe and never refer to again. Or I might send it to an agent. Who knows?
Mr D’s three sieves
So yesterday we were sitting in traffic yet again having made a fruitless shoe shopping journey of epic proportions (sorry and all that, but pleeeease can we have an M3 sometime soon?) and #1 starts to tell this story that Mr D, their Headmaster, told them. It really captured their imagination and I think you’ll like it for your own children, or for yourself if you’re so inclined. By the way, this was relayed to me by a small boy so apologies to Mr D for any deviation from the original.
The basic gist, which was told to them in the form of a story, was that a child starts to tell his mother a snippet of playground gossip. ‘Hold on’, says his mother. ‘Remember that before you say anything, you should first pass it through the three sieves:
Sieve 1: Truth. Is it true? If it’s not, and it gets stuck in sieve 1, then it should never be passed on.
Sieve 2: Kindness. Is it kind? Again, if it gets caught in this sieve, then it’s best not said
Sieve 3: Necessity. Is it necessary? The third and final test. Must you say it?
The theory being that if the information cannot pass the test of these three sieves, it shouldn’t be aired. I love this. And I think Mr D is a genius for getting across an important message in a very simple way. No religion, no fire and brimstone, just plain old thinking before you speak.
So next time you’re about to say something, pass it through Mr D’s three sieves. I think you’ll be surprised how much stuff you keep to yourself.
CD-WOW. No, really
So I had a little gripe about CD-Wow being fab but a little slow and was instantly contacted by the lovely Kevin, their Marketing Director. Turns out my address was wrong (which is weird as I’ve had CDs delivered here) and my CDs had been sent ages ago only to be lost in the ether. Anyhoo, a swish of Kevin’s magic mouse and my replacement CDs are winging their way to me.
And who said good customer service is a thing of the past? Ten out of ten. Big Christmas order winging its way to them, then.
Christmas present
The lovely Isitjustme has recently been lamenting the fact that her oldest child has friends that no longer believe in Father Christmas. Worse, one of the children was actually told by a parent that Father Christmas doesn’t exist!! What would possess a parent to tell such a horrible lie to their child is beyond me, but I do sympathise with Isit on this matter. #1 is hurtling towards 13 at the speed of light, and Hubby and I both wonder how many years of family Christmases we have left before the wonder and magic evaporate and we’re left trying to drag two unwieldy teenagers out of their respective pits in time to perch them reluctantly in front of a turkey dinner (worst case scenario, granted).
I know he’s mine, but #1 is a lovely chap: a gangly bundle of razor wit, he’s kind of the ‘mad professor’ of the family; speed reading a new book in one night and insisting on telling you the whole plot in one frenzied school run conversation. He’s a ball of endearing irreverence, all wrapped up with a silly laugh and more mad conversation than you can shake a stick at. I just cannot imagine him as a sullen, spotty teenager.
#2 will probably always believe in Father Christmas, mostly because he’s taken our ‘if you don’t believe you don’t receive’ mantra so much to heart. This is mostly as a result of the pure terror of waking up on Christmas morning to an empty stocking. Currently nursing his 756th injury of the year (running, caught leg in cricket nets, fell and jammed knee onto concrete…yada yada), our little Captain Dangerous is SO gorgeously smiley and affectionate that I have visions of those glowering teenage years completely passing him by and him somehow morphing straight from childhood into a version of Mad Uncle A (who probably still gets visits from Santa even though he’s 41).
Still, this year, I shall take Isit’s advice to heart and, as me Mam did for us, fill the house with warmth, laughter, the scent of cinnamon and mulled wine, scrumptious food and glittering decorations and enjoy every wide-eyed moment of wonder, every ‘Mum! Look what I got!’, even #2’s dreaded 6am wake-up call. I’ll cry when they sing carols in the choir, let #1 pop the champagne, even though he’s likely to take someone’s eye out, and will watch Hubby’s pyromaniacal attempts to set the pudding alight with an indulgent smile, because as my much loved Grandma Maudie used to say: ‘Christmas is for the kids really, isn’t it’.
Give me strength
So we’re all doing the crossword, and I read out a clue. The conversation goes something like this:
Me: ‘Citrus fruit with a loose rind and easily separable segments. Seven letters ending in A’
#1: ‘Banana’
Me: ‘No, you pillock, a citrus fruit’
#2: ‘Tomato’
Me (throwing paper down in exasperation): ‘a bloody CITRUS FRUIT’
#1: ‘Give us a clue. What colour would it be?’
Me: ‘An EASILY PEELABLE CITRUS FRUIT – what colour do you think it would be?’
#2: ‘Ooh! I’ve got it! An orange!’
Me (losing will to live): ‘Ending in A’
Hubby (smirking): ’sausage’
Recipes – all in one place
Okay, so I’m not exactly a web expert, but having tried, and failed, to find my brownie recipe in my book of random scribbles (for J & C’s visit) I’ve found that I can’t just look back on all my old recipes in one place, which is a bit of a blow. So I’m going to have a fiddle and see if I can get them all on one page. Wish me luck.
Stealth-health White Chocolate, Almond and Date Cookies
Foolproof pastry and Sausage and Egg Pie
Flapjacks with Added Healthy Bits
Easy Children’s Spaghetti Carbonara
Chocolate and Banana loaf (for Nick – stop moaning now)
Five Spice Chilli Cashew Nuts and Teriyaki Chicken
#1’s Chocolate Cheesecake with Raspberry Purée
Pistachio and Dark Chocolate Brownies
Watermelon Martinis and Tropical Daiquiris
Raspberry and White Chocolate Muffins
Double Chocolate and Toffee Muffins
Disgustingly Fattening Chocolate Fudge Brownie Cake
The Fluffiest Yorkshire Puddings Ever
I’ll keep adding as I remember. Happy cooking! xx
