Jigging

My mother had tickets to see The Lord of the Dance. I know. She had planned to take the girls but The Teenager (who will now be known as Maya as that is probably her name) had to tidy towels in a department store for minimum wage. So I went in her place. Well, you can't waste a ticket, can you. Not at 33 pounds a pop. Yes 3 3. In a regional, small town theatre.

The Younger One (who remains 'The Younger One' for now) was looking forward to it. She likes a bit of Irish jigging. My mother loves it. I was in two minds because as far as dancing goes, Strictly (Come Dancing) serves my dancerly needs on a Saturday evening perfectly. But as I said - 33 pounds and all that. Besides, it meant leaving the house after dark in a clean shirt and in my world, that's rare.

Our tickets were row C, but the front two rows had mysteriously disappeared, so we were front row. Uncomfortably close. 'We won't be able to see their clogs' said my mother. You can glean from this that we are not au fait with the terminology of Irish dance. I was worried. If a dancer lost a clog, we were done for.

The lights dimmed. There was an almighty explosion. Had something malfunctioned? A bomb? Could Michael Flatley's jiggers really be a terrorist target?
'Should we evacuate'? yelled my mother over the booming Irish music.
'I think I already have' said the elderly woman in the next seat.

The dancers flew onto stage, all sequins, flailing legs and bouncing curls. And that was just the men.

Truth was, they were really quite incredible. Just when you thought they couldn't dance any faster, they cranked it up another notch, umpteen synchronized pairs of legs doing impossible things. Ramrod straight backs. It was quite the spectacle.

Whilst we couldn't see their feet, we were close enough to see that after almost two hours of strenuous dancing, they were barely out of puff. And there was another advantage in being so close. The lead male dancer would catch my mother's eye, smile and wink. She adored that. In fact the look on her face was worth missing Strictly for. Clapping for an encore she even shouted 'More'. Just the once.

And I bet - bet the ticket price itself, that everyone in that audience, once they'd got home, with the explosions and Irish music still ringing in their ears, had a little go at doing an Irish dance. Bet you.

Not that I did of course.

Peggy Flobbins' Double.

Peggy asked me if she could have a quick go on the blog. I said 'we'll see' but she gave me the look. And when Peg gives me 'the look'...



it's very hard to refuse. So here she is.

I've been allowed on the blog - just for a moment - to tell you something that happened. You may not think it exciting but c'mon -when I tell you that a new lushury blankie is the best thing since sliced chicken for me and Teas, you'll unnerstand that it's the very simple things in life that get us all waggy.

So ...

In American Kentucky is a lady called Faye who had a postcard from someone in Leicestershire and on that postcard was a dog called Samy and I think Samy is my gran. Or grandad. What do you think?


See? It could be me couldn't it? Although I can't quite make out whether this dodgy (that's what me and Teas call dogs) has a mohican like me, it definitely has my facial expression (Teas told me to write that. Facial expression.)

Just for comparison, this is me. I stood near some leaves just like Samy. I think we are Double Dogs and probably related.

I would love to know what Sammy smells like. Then I'd know if we're family. I smell a bit sweaty, a bit dusty and very lovely. Except when She baths me in Special Anti- Allergy Sensitive Skin Shampoo. Then I smell fresh as lavender and every one comes to have a sniff of me.

I just wanted to tell you this. I know I had to use The Look to do it but sometimes a girl has to use whatever works.

I wonder if Teas has a Double Dog somewhere out there. Sometimes I think she wonders too. 'Specially as she's probably a grandma herself by now.

Cosy

This time last year, I was feeling a little...low. It happens most years when the clocks go back. Unable to concentrate on anything for long, I started to crochet what became known in our house as lushury blankie. (Peggy speak for 'luxury blanket').

It looked like this



Peggy had her eye on it from the very start. Every time I picked it up to to do a row, she would be there, tangling herself up in the wool and trying to curl up on a corner, determined to lay claim to it before anyone else.

Now it's finished and it looks like this - over six feet long and as wide as my arm span. It's everything Peg hoped for and more.

And it's proving very popular

For when there's something good on TV

And for when there isn't

Freedom

It was 26th July at 10.30 am. A beautiful Sunday morning. I didn't even realize it was happening as I exhaled a last, delicious plume in my comfy garden spot and nicely satiated, stubbed out for the last time.
But that was it. Something had just clicked. No more.
I had to unpick the fabric of my routine and sew it back together with a brand new pattern. Every time I let the dogs out, I had to stay inside. I couldn't trust myself to join them in the garden. I couldn't sit in my usual sunny spot and watch the birds. I couldn't linger. If I stood still at all, the ache would gnaw too deeply. I cleaned the cooker and walked the dogs rather more than was necessary. If I'd been a runner I'd have doubled my miles. I couldn't write because I couldn't sit still and my mind was too fizzy. If you spoke to me I would snarl. I was not nice in those first weeks. But it got easier and I'm nicer now. Although I still haven't managed to erase that demonic stare and probably never will.

Painting by Nicotine Free Woman

Do My Buns Look Big in This?

Peggy Flobbins can't be trusted.

Teabag can (sort of)

The cakes remained drool free. At least for the duration of the photos. Now, my question to you is ..... do my buns look big in this? (I know, they're really fairy cakes but that wouldn't pun, would it). I'm template tinkering again and experimenting with uploading big photos which I've only just discovered how to do.
Are they falling off your screen?

Oh and help yourself. They are courtesy of The Younger One. Who is now at Big School. How did that happen?