It's Twofer Monday!

A lot of our Gems come from when we are driving. I'll be concentrating on the road and the pillocks on it, and Julie will normally start drifting off to sleep, passing through a rich vein of Gems on the way.

On Sunday, we took Roxy back to the rescue centre, where she met up with one lady who had formed a deep attachment to her - and it was mutual. Both Roxy and this volunteer were over the moon to see each other.... but I'm getting way off track.

Years ago, I used to work at a dairy that was some distance from home. Despite this, there were a number of colleagues that lived in the same town as us - or pretty much on the way. This meant that there could be a bit of fuel saved if we shared a shift and a car for the journey. One of my colleagues had a fun little habit. Instead of wolf-whistling or shouting some crude epithet in appreciation of a comely young lady, he would shout 'sausage!' This wouldn't be aimed directly at the young lady, but just exclaimed in general, almost as an observation.

It's not hugely subtle, I admit, but since I picked up the habit - and then passed it on to Julie, it's become a lot less subtle. Shouting it out about a man? Wow...

The first time Julie did it, we were driving past a cyclist. I'm not sure who was more surprised, me or the cyclist. I know we both wobbled as we tried to keep on the road. Apparently, Julie had forgotten her window was open..

Sorry - I'm veering off track again - it's those sausages... er... yeah...

Um, where was ...ah, yes.

Anyway. Out for a drive to the rescue centre, and to the side of one road were the remains of an animal. A mammal of some sort - that's all we could tell.
Mind you, Julie reckoned it had a doppelganger.

This last was aimed at a cyclist we were passing. As I tried to contain my laughter, I looked my mirror and found that the lycra-clad bloke was doing the same thing...

For reference - some people may not have seen Ice Age (why not?). Scrat is a sabre-toothed squirrel with a fondness for acorns and a case of bad luck big enough to hold the world.

Acorn just out of shot...

Meanwhile, Sid the Sloth is an intentionally pathetic character who nonetheless has a decent side. Useless at pretty much everything, Sid only ever achieves anything by accident, and sleep usually only arrived at after some awkward shifting around on a bed of rock (and it's possibly that was meant to be a geological pun).

I have to admit tossing and turning a lot like this...

My spidey-nonsense is tingling...

I'm fairly appreciative of those eight-legged fly-killers we get in Britain. Not the nightmare fuel you find in other countries, eating birds, snakes, or small cars.

Oh look - it's Spider-Nope!

Feel free to much on the stuff that eats or craps on our own food, but leave us and ours alone thanks.

Julie, however, isn't too fussed on anything that doesn't go round on two legs. Come to think of it, not many of those, either... Out of deference to my sensibilities, Julie has managed to overcome her dislike enough to capture and eject most spiders she finds. As long as they aren't too big and/or fast.

The thing is, spiders tend to be fairly nondescript in Britain, and as such one looks pretty much like another. This means that this can lead to a case of mistaken identity.

There's kinky. It reminds me of this FABulous fella.

"Y-M-C-A!"

Top of the plops

My mother was the first to note a certain family trait; no matter the topic at hand, any conversation involving one or more of us will turn to shit. Or piss. Anything lavatorial, really.

Julie isn't a family member in the genetic sense, but when it came to integrating with my family, she hit the ground running, and has barely slowed down since. Certainly, when it came to my father, she could do no wrong. Anything she said, no matter how ribald or piss-taking it was, was greeted by a full-on snigger from Dad. Seriously, she got away with stuff we would never have even dared contemplate broaching with my father. The bald patch received special treatment, as I recall...

And yes, this does mean that Julie often joins in with phrases for flushing.

Today, for example, Julie decided to call it a night. Wearily dragging herself up the stairs, she decided to parody a certain little ditty made famous by the nephew of Kermit the Frog.

Yes, I know the word is 'down', but that doesn't really matter, does it?

"Uncle Kermit? That's not right, is it?"

He's right. It's not. Here's the original.

Sad song gone wrong

Roxy, bless her, is part staffie, part American bulldog. This means that she has a double dose of those genes that give a dog a mournful demeanour.

Not Roxy, still looking woebegone. But probably not at all sad.

This even happens when Roxy is happy, excited and various other emotional states that are not in fact 'sad'. Case in point: one day, not long after Julie had come home from work, Roxy was sat in her downstairs bed, recovering from her mad five minutes of greeting her 'mum'. We were sat in our own chairs, watching our dog, who was looking at us with pretty much the exact same expression as that above.

For some reason, Julie felt moved to sing a paraphrased version of a classic tune.

I didn't know if Julie meant the dog made the pies, or that the pies were made of dog. And you know what, I didn't really feel like finding out...

Deviating doggies

Hmm... As titles go, that is possibly one of the dodgier ones I could have gone with. It doesn't help that, in setting the scene, I announce that  Roxy was in bed with me and Julie...

Does it help if I say that Roxy was on TOP of the duvet, while we were underneath? I hope so.

In any event, you all know by now that Roxy is a cuddlesome dog, mostly as a result of having spent the last three years of her life in a rescue centre pen.

D'awwww.

Yeah... As you can see, Roxy is not above sneakily cuddling up to you while you sleep. Impressive, considering that she is by no means a small dog.

Anyway, last Sunday, prior to a nice day out on the South Downs, we decided to have a lazy morning cuddle in bed. Of course, Roxy HAD to be involved.

Essentially, idle chit-chat and belly rubs were the order of the day (well, morning), and I'll leave it up to you to work out who took part in what.

After some time, Julie raised the idea of dressing up Roxy, something doesn't appeal to me at the best of times.

Obviously.

"Just for that, no pasta for you."
(and yes, I know that is Grumpy Cat, and not a Spaniel)

Perverting a proverb

A friend of mine from the Magic-playing community was talking to me the other day about how he enjoys reading this blog (which made my day, believe me). He especially enjoyed, apparently, that a lot of what Julie says, and how she says it, mirrors his girlfriend's habits. It seems that she has a reputation for being a bit 'out there', and revels in it - to the point she will deliberately behave and speak oddly.

To illustrate this, Tom (my friend), recounted the tale of when he and Cass (his girlfriend) were playing a card game. He can't recall the game, not that it matters. It could have been Magic, Happy Families, Uno, or even just Gin Rummy.

Whatever the game, it was Tom's turn, and he drew a card. Unfortunately, it turned out to be something he most definitely did not want or need. Tom let out an exasperated noise and grimaced. Cass then assumed a comically lofty expression and berated him with this:

Obviously punning on the proverb 'don't look a gift horse in the mouth', Cass then enjoyed the sight of Tom laughing and spluttering.

For my part, I seem to be channeling a mix of Cass and Julie, because I was mixing both the original and Cass's version in my head and coming up with a mental image of a terrified and disturbed horse.

Baneful Bunnies

I'm always thinking of other people; if I see something that a member of my family or one of my friends would like or be interested in, I will instantly make the connection and think that it would be kind of nice to get it as a surprise gift.

With that in mind, I always look at the bird/wild animal feed sections of shops, normally to get ideas for possible gifts for my mother, who is something of a bird-watcher. Well, she tries to watch them, but the feathery buggers disappear as soon as my mother manages to get hold of her binoculars...

It's not just seed and hedgehog food on those shop shelves though. Normally, you will also find stuff for popular pets that aren't dogs or cats; guinea pigs, mice and rabbit - that kind of thing.

We were shopping yesterday, and I saw this product nestling on one of the shelves.

A dandelion salad for rabbits and rodents? Cute. It also brought to mind Sharron, one of my friends. I have mentioned her before, but usually in connection with one or the other of her daughters, both of whom have a wonderful knack of coming out with wonderfully innocent and sweet comments. This time, though, I remembered that Sharron has a couple of rabbits, and I thought this could be of interest to her - well, the rabbits, at least. I mentioned this to Julie, although in retrospect, I should have phrased it differently...

Surprise mutt-sex

Hmm. Out of all the trends we have seen on Julie's Gems, the one that appears to be forming at the moment is the most worrying. Not even the Platyposts concern me as much.

There is a meme going by the tagline of 'surprise buttsex'. It takes advantage (ahem) of previously innocuous photographs and then adds the caption of 'Surprise Buttsex'. Google it if you want, but be prepared for what you see. In the meantime, here's a prime example.

And now for the most awkward segue ever; let's talk about Roxy...

Being part Staffie, Roxy isn't the slightest of creatures, gorgeous as she is. She also fits in with the family very well, in that she has a stubborn streak wider than the mouth of the Amazon river. Combine that with your average doorway, and simple access to a room is suddenly a lot more difficult. Especially since neither me nor Julie are even remotely slim.

If I am cooking, Roxy likes to 'supervise' from the comfort of the kitchen doorway. Having spent so long in a rescue centre pen, she isn't too fond of uncarpeted surfaces. I can understand that. Unfortunately, she refuses to move from there until the last tiny chance of a dropped morsel has gone. Which tends to make it a problem for Julie when she decides to come and make herself a drink.

There are so many things wrong with that I have no idea where to begin... so I'll leave you with a final meme...

A damp doggy?

Many apologies for missing yesterday's post. It was a tad busy, and I hadn't prepared anything for automatic release.

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This morning was a bit of a non-starter for me, thanks to a headache and a hay-fever-induced cold. Unfortunately, Roxy decided that she wasn't going to do anything either: Every time Julie tried to get Roxy to go for a walk, the dog refused to go any further than the front gate. She even refused to eat her breakfast.

It may have been that Roxy 'knows' that Saturdays are for us to go somewhere as a family, and wanted to wait until I was fine to walk with the ladies. Or it may be that Roxy was picking up on the fact I was a little under the weather and preferred to stay near me and keep an eye on me. Sweet, but annoying for Julie, who wanted to get on and do things and go places.

Eventually, I managed to break the cycle of doze-wake with a sore head-drop off again, and the three of us went for a walk. As soon as it was clear we were all going out, Roxy was as amenable as anything, and Julie had no trouble handling her.

Hmm. I may have phrased that poorly.

You see, when we got back home, I decided to chance some toast, and to have another go at having a cup of tea - I had made one at six in the morning, and then promptly dropped off back to sleep.

While I was in the kitchen, Julie sat on the sofa, gently stroking Roxy, who was sat on the floor. When they saw me come in the living room, Roxy moved to the sofa and looked at me, waiting. When I smiled, she took that as her cue to get up onto the sofa and sit, leaning against Julie,  but hoping that I would lean over the back of the sofa to give her a little fuss too.

Of course I did.

I didn't sit down right away - I had a cup of tea stewing in the kitchen. Since I like strong tea, I don't mind leaving it for a little while, but chewing it would be too much, so I went back to remove the tea bag and to add milk.

Back in the living room, Julie was making a fuss of Roxy and talking to her. Generally, I couldn't hear exactly what was being said. Mostly, all I could make out was, "mumblemumblemumbleRoxymumblemumblemumble." However, one phrase made its way through nice and clear.

As it turned out, Julie was rubbing Roxy's belly (something the dog absolutely adores), and confused 'damp' with 'slightly cooler than the rest of Roxy's body'. That said, I couldn't help but imagine Roxy's face when she heard that...

OK, not Roxy, but the expression
should say it all.

Dem bones

We have spoiled Roxy something rotten - but it's what you do, isn't it? Only this weekend, I suddenly found myself becoming a 'baby bore'; Julie had to nudge me sharply and tell me to stop showing this poor woman photographs of Roxy. I wouldn't have minded, but Julie had already shown people the pictures on her own phone...

Of all the toys that Roxy has available to play with, the one she is currently most enamoured with is a tatty orange football that somehow appeared in our back garden over the last winter. Nobody has laid claim to it, so I decided to let Roxy play with it. And play she does. Now partly deflated, it serves as a chew toy, a tugger and something to chase and fetch.

Apart from that, she has a tennis ball, a rope-pull, a long rubber tug-toy, and a vinyl bone shaped chew toy that is apparently bacon flavoured. I say apparently, as I have yet to have a nibble on it. Wait - that makes it sound like I want to... Nope. Nuh-uh. No way.

The bone looks a bit like this, and Roxy does like to have a chew on it now and then. The only problem is that her teeth appear to be a little delicate; We often see little specks of blood on it when the gums have had a little too much battering. Fortunately, Roxy does seem to know when to stop, so we are happy to let her keep it for the occasional chew.

The other day, we were all in the living room, and Roxy decided she wanted to chew on the bone for a bit. After a while, she stopped and began to smack her mouth and lick her lips. I knew what had happened, and a quick glance at the bone confirmed it.

I now have this image of a pig, snout down in its trough, oblivious to the fact Roxy is determinedly gnawing on its back leg...

The hills are alive with the sound of wotnot

It's nice to get out and about, especially since the weather has finally taken a turn for the better and the sky has given up on trying to completely dominate the land by water.

In Sussex, we have England's newest National Park, the Sussex Downs.* Rolling hills of chalk, dropping off (quite literally in the case of Birling Gap) to the sea, but stretching for miles inland. Topped with scrubland and grazing fields, it's a nice place to get away from it all.

Well, it would be, if 'all' hadn't had the same idea and begun tromping and driving round the countryside in inappropriate clothing.

On the rare moments, however, when the sounds of traffic and/or screaming kids that would rather be watching TV are mercifully absent, it's a gloriously peaceful place to be. Close your eyes, and just listen. That's the wind in the grass, maybe an early cricket or grasshopper, the occasional sheep, and possibly one of the most defining sounds of the English open countryside, the song of the skylark.

A couple of weeks ago, we were driving to Seaford to take Roxy for a long walk along their promenade. For a change, I decided to take a route through the Beachy Head area of the South Downs National Park. The weather was warm, and I had the windows wound down a little, and I was thrilled to hear the skylarks singing away. Julie couldn't hear them, though.

Yes, she went there. Then claimed the cows were singing too, even though there weren't any nearby. I suggested their tune would be 'Udder the boardwalk'.

The conversation went absolutely nowhere after that.

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* Why on earth are these hills called 'downs'? As far as most people are concerned, they should be 'ups'. I'm sure there is a logical, etymological reason.

Badgered

Ready for a quick blast of Cute?

Baby badgers; so young their eyes have yet to open.

Julie found this delightful image somewhere, and I insisted she shared it with me - by private message on Facebook, so it wouldn't get lost in every other post I see.
I had an ulterior motive, though. Lovely as these badgers were,* it was Julie's comment that cracked me up.

Nope.
Just to clarify; these are baby platypuses:

And these are baby badgers:

They're all cute, and they are all (roughly) mammalian. Other than that, nope. Not the same.

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* By the way; baby badgers might look cute, but adult badgers are vicious buggers and are roughly the size of a Staffordshire Bull Terrier - and with roughly the same temperament when pissed off. Don't mess with them.

Ewe have to be joking...

If you drive a particular journey often enough, it begins to feel like the distance has increased. Having the radio on, or music can help, as can sharing the journey with a companion. You can chat or play games such as I-spy or, as we often do, alphagames. However, even then, you will often find there are times when there is simply nothing to say and you just don't feel like playing any games. You're on a motorway, doing a steady 65mph, you and your companion have exhausted all the normal topics of conversation.

And you begin to zone out.

It's not the same as falling asleep, but it can be just as dangerous.

If I am on my own and I feel like I am slipping into The Zone, I make sure I have some upbeat music - rock, ska, pop, whatever - and crank up the volume to disguise my abysmal singing voice. If Julie is with me, then I try and come up with a speculative area for a conversation. Why? Because there is no way any answer my wife would come up with would be in any way dull. In fact, I will often be in danger of not being able to see because of laughing so hard...

On one journey, I felt my eyes unfocusing. Time to come up with a conversation starter. Hm. How about reincarnation?

Trust me when I say that the car was quiet for a little while following that - although that was mainly because I honestly couldn't think of anything to say...

This seems apt enough, though.

A right dog's dinner.

Out and about with Roxy, we have discovered that the most annoying thing for us is an excitable dog, one that is not on a lead ("Oh, he's ever so well behaved, and really friendly!").

Far too many people don't realise that while their dog may* well be a friendly dog, to have it dash up to you, a young child, or a nervous dog under your control can be a fraught situation.

Fortunately, while Roxy is a little naive about the outside world (after three years in a rescue centre, she's bound to be out of touch), she is also generally very friendly and very placid. However, since idiots abound, we are obliged to walk her in public with a muzzle.

Taking our new friend out for her evening walk one day, the three of us encountered wave after wave of hyperactive, noisy dogs, none of which could have been larger than a bowling ball. All of which apparently oscillated between 'happy-yappy' and 'Come on! I'll f***in' have ye!' with not a lot of changeover time.

Understandably, Roxy was more than a little unsettled by it all and tended to cling to us more than the most insecure of shower curtains. Most of the time. Finally driven to snapping point (literally), Roxy lunged for a very noisy toupee, only to be brought short by us; we'd been ready for this.

I was about to say something fairly regrettable, when Julie, having sensed my mood as well as Roxy's, beat me to it.

Win.

Half dog, half monotreme.

You may have noticed that Julie is somewhat of a whimsical frame of mind. You will be very pleased to know that this has not changed a jot since Roxy entered our lives.

A crossbreed of Staffie and bulldog makes for a very solid dog, and there is no denying that when Roxy opens a door, it tends to stay open. Similarly, when she decides to cuddle up to you, you will definitely know about it - and hopefully be very glad you were already sitting down.

However, Julie is one for pet names, and when combined with her leftfield sense of humour, it can prove to be a tad confusing. For me, if not the dog - especially when Julie appears to be rummaging around in the back pocket of Roxy's genes...

Three things: No, of course Roxy didn't answer to it. And you know what, the first thing that came to mind was a paraphrasing of Monty Python's classic 'Brian' scene, "She has a fwiend, you know... Incontintentia Buttox."*

The third thing was a corker. I always try and illustrate a Gem if I can, but when I typed in 'dog platypus hybrid', I have to admit I wasn't expecting anything.
Silly me.
First bloody result from Google image search was this beauty.

Image is the sole copyright of Evelar.

Evelar is a digital artist on deviantArt. If you click on THIS LINK, you can see the picture in all its glory. Please do visit the page, and browse the amazing art therein.

Of course, there was no way I was going to miss a chance to share a classic bit of comedy with you...

*In true Monty Python fashion, there were four things that occurred to me - the other one, of course, being that this was going to be yet another platypost...

The Tea Room Trilogy part 2: Dogged by innuendo.

So there we were in Duddleswell Tea Rooms, on their last day of opening for the year. Looking at the menu, I was reminded and again gratified to see a wide variety of teas - including my favourite, Lapsang Suchong. Unfortunately, they didn't have any soy milk, so I had to opt for either a green tea or a herbal infusion... Hm... gunpowder green tea, methinks...

Julie is a lot less fussy when it comes to tea; tea, milk & sugar, and that's it. Just tea. No fancy stuff. Especially no smelly ones.

Another thing the tea rooms are good for are their cakes. There was some massive meringue concoction in the chiller cabinet, which looked very inviting, but we decided to be sensible and go for a scone.
OK, Julie was sensible.
I had a slice of cherry, apricot & almond tart with a small jug of pouring cream. Very nice.

Unfortunately, tea has a side-effect; it's a diuretic - it makes you pee more. No sooner had the last sip been taken than Julie was off to the loo, leaving me to eye up the cakes - and the waitresses, of whom more on Friday.

When Julie returned, she sat down with a happy sigh and a little smile. I laughed, and asked her:

Yes, we were heading on to Last Chance Animal Rescue afterwards, but the schoolboy in me just went straight for the 'dogging' joke.

Scrunched-up sheep

When you're out and about, driving around, there are often quiet moments. You've got fed up with the radio and you have temporarily run out of things to talk about. You're In The Zone and looking out of the car window, barely taking in your surroundings.You're on autopilot. The body is perfectly able to take care of things, and the eyes have become the ultimate in optical technology; you are taking in everything you need and more for driving the car safely, but they still have the facility to notice random little things.

That, folks, is the basis for this week. On Saturday, me and Julie were out for the day. Unfortunately, we chose a pretty damp day for it, so anything we saw out of the car windows was at least partially obscured by a near-constant mist of road spray.

Where we live, there are a great deal of fields. A lot of them are marshland, but it's amazing what sheep will put up with. As we traveled, the rain pattering on the roof of the car, Julie's mind wandered and she idly started up a silly little conversation.

That kept us going for a little while... heh...

Hotel Humdinger

It's my mother's birthday in a few days' time, and I was looking around for a little something to buy her as a bit of fun. Since she has a sizeable garden and an interest in wildlife - especially birds - we like to visit garden centres for this kind of thing. The fact that me and Julie like browsing them ourselves is beside the point of course (coughs uncomfortably). Another reason is that I'm always on the lookout for a relatively cheap squirrel-proof bird feeder, as Mum is forever despairing of their habit of destroying or even stealing the feeders (see HERE).

Once in the wildlife section of the nursery, though, I tend to be distracted by all the feeders and wotnots. I'm of the opinion that creating somewhere to live for some of the overlooked creatures is hugely important. Bees are on the decline globally, and humans are destroying habitats daily, whether directly by building or farming on it, or indirectly, by taking the resources or vital parts of the ecological chain.

One of the main problems in urban situations is that most people don't realise how much their manicured gardens or slabbed-over patios create a desert of living spaces for the animals we are displacing. The daft thing is, many of these bugs and other creatures are beneficial and/or harmless to humans. Craneflies (daddy longlegs) look creepy with their spindly legs and bodies, but they are vegetarian and won't harm you. Hoverflies look a little like wasps, but they are important pollinators, almost as important as bees (plus, they don't sting!).

There are some amazing ideas that various people and companies have come up with to help these garden helpers; if you google 'insect hotel' in image search, then you'll see what I mean. In the meantime, at this garden centre recently, I saw this one made by Neudorff.

It's a wonderful thing, providing refuge for various beneficial bugs. I would like one for our garden and I wouldn't mind betting my mother would, too. At a distance from the house though, and Julie was even less keen on the idea...

Gah.

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On a related note, it's that time of year when people like to have bonfires. However, nice as they are to watch, they are deathtraps for wildlife. If they see a pile of wood with lots of gaps, they are going to crawl in and make a nest. Please read this letter from the British Hedgehog Preservation Society and remember that other animals will use bonfires in the same way.

See here for a larger view http://preview.tinyurl.com/hogletter

Swine on the sly

Some time ago, I mentioned that Julie had been referring to a running gag in one of her Gems (this one, in fact). And you know what? I quite forgot to mention the Gem that started it all off.

It all began innocently enough - for one of our conversations, at least. A nice drive in the countryside, windows down and enjoying the warm, if fragrant, air. Playing 'spot the farm animals'...

Wait, what?

Well, the thing is, we often use statements that don't just verge on The Bleedin' Obvious, but rush in and take over its territory - all in the name of having a conversation opener. My father used to do this too ("It's uphill, this bit"). However, silly is as silly does. If you opt to start a conversation with a daft opening, you can't really complain if the whole exchange ends up the same way...

You'll have noticed that by the end of that lot I had caught the bug and was operating at Gem level myself...

A view to a kill

You had to be there, you really should have been there. I was in tears - quite literally.

Driving along, me and Julie were chatting away when we noticed a small heap in the road.

The heap, to me, was quite obviously a bird. Julie, however, was quite adamant that it had been a hedgehog before failing at Frogger. Now, I will admit that the sad, small pile had seen better days, but I'm pretty sure I recognise feathers when I see them.

You would not believe how long we argued about this. Seriously.
The thing was, Julie was using hand and head movements and truly bizarre sound effects to get across just how the roadkill looked like a deceased hedgehog.

As I said, I was literally in tears of laughter, which was not a good thing, seeing as how I was the one driving... Fortunately, we had come to a halt in traffic, which gave me a chance to wipe my eyes and to once again challenge Julie's notion. She wasn't having any of it though. She still reckoned she was right...