I know sheep poo can be unpleasant when trodden indoors, but isn't it just recycled grass?
I recall (many lustra ago) a country churchyard in the next Diocese, which was used (by permission) as grazing for a local farmer's flock.
The grass was as neat and tidy as a bowling green (well, apart from the Umps and Ollows caused by the many graves), and the brick path to the door of the church was discreetly protected by a low wire fence, to prevent the Faithful from treading poo into the Sacred Edifice.
Winners all round, ISTM! The woolly lawnmowers did a superb job, the PCC had a lot less work, and the farmer knew where his sheep were, when he wanted them. I don't know if the practice still continues, as there is nowadays a desire to keep churchyards in a rather more natural state, to encourage wild flora, and fauna.
@Gracious Rebel your son’s story popped up on my Facebook so it’s nice to have a connection to it.
Many years ago a friend transported a sheep from the far east coast to the far west coast of the UK for his mum in the back of a tiny car (might have been a mini) without a nappy. I never heard about the state the car was in when he arrived.
... Mr S, for reasons of his own, calls all sheep Deirdre ...
No, no. Gentlemen sheep are called Harold (according to Monty Python), and lady sheep are called Mabel (according to my mother-in-law).
It's a filthy day here today: the threatened Special Weather Statement was no lie, and it's been Wet and Windy all day. I can't express my relief that Harry the Handyman came round on Tuesday and put right that which was amiss with the bedroom window, thereby preventing the ingress of any H2O.
The counter-top bloke turned up this morning, so I've to choose a style, get someone from the hardware shop to come and measure it, and then he'll come back and fit it.
I've also typed address labels for thank-you cards for most of the sympathy cards* I've received (of which there are many), so I feel that I've achieved something.
I'm going back to choir practice tonight, and I understand we'll be rehearsing a little anthem by D.**, so I hope I can keep my tear-ducts in check!
* Sadly, not all the cards had return addresses, but there's not much I can do about that.
** The lady who's conducting pro tem e-mailed me to ask if I'd be OK with us singing it, and I said yes - I hope I'm right.
There is an animal sanctuary near us which cares for elderly and unwell animals. They feature a different animal on Facebook each week and this week it is a brain-damaged sheep. Apparently, despite her difficulties she "keeps up with her more able companions" My mind has been boggling at the thought of a brain damaged sheep all week. I'm sure there's a sermon in there somewhere.
just doing a but of cross-thread promotion, if such a thing is allowed, to say that I'm in London next weekend, and have started a thread if anyone else is interested in having a mini-meet
Choir practice last night was grand - everyone seemed really pleased to see me, and apart from a slight wobble in my voice when I was thanking them for singing so beautifully at the funeral, I was just fine, even in D's anthem. I reckon if I can do that without wavering, I should be all right.
Some more declutterage has happened (this time the first instalment of D's hymnals and anthem books), and a friend from the choir and I spent a large chunk of the morning* waiting at Service New Brunswick to sort out the legalities of transferring the Pigletmobile into my name so that I can sell it.
Counter-top Bloke has been to measure up, and Harry the Handyman came to check that his fixing of the window had been effective after all the rain we had yesterday (over half an inch) - service with a smile!
There's a steak merrily marinating for supper, and I think I deserve a glass of something nice with it after such a productive day.
* well over an hour, to be exact. And it looks like we're going to have to go back again ...
Thank you, St. E; it all happened very quickly, and I'm not sure that I've got my head round it all yet, but I've had the most amazing support from friends both RL and virtual!
I had a call from my old boss in Newfoundland this evening to say that she and my former colleagues have collected money and they want to institute an award in the local music festival in D's memory. He often accompanied my boss's daughter in the festival (she's now studying singing at university), and there's a category for "sacred songs", in which they're going to endow the award.
[...] There's a steak merrily marinating for supper, and I think I deserve a glass of something nice with it after such a productive day.
What did you have with it? And was it big, the merrily marinating item - was there a lot at steak?
Food, especially if prepared and devoured as lovingly and with joy as in many of your tales, can be a very comforting thing. And daily rituals, small and not so small, like the beloved singing, are such a boon for body, mind and soul, and not just for ourselves alone.
Thank you, St. E; it all happened very quickly, and I'm not sure that I've got my head round it all yet, but I've had the most amazing support from friends both RL and virtual!
I had a call from my old boss in Newfoundland this evening to say that she and my former colleagues have collected money and they want to institute an award in the local music festival in D's memory. He often accompanied my boss's daughter in the festival (she's now studying singing at university), and there's a category for "sacred songs", in which they're going to endow the award.
... What did you have with it? And was it big, the merrily marinating item - was there a lot at steak?
Food, especially if prepared and devoured as lovingly and with joy as in many of your tales, can be a very comforting thing. And daily rituals, small and not so small, like the beloved singing, are such a boon for body, mind and soul, and not just for ourselves alone.
This is good, Piglet.
<votive> continued
Thanks, Wesley!
It was a decent-sized steak though not huge, and considering it was the first time I'd actually cooked a steak myself* it came out very nicely.
I had potatoes boiled in their skins (with lots of butter), a few grilled mushrooms and a tomato and a glass of Oakbank Cabernet Sauvignon from South-eastern Australia with it.
I've taken some fiddleheads out of the freezer, and am planning to make SOUP with them for supper.
* Although D. didn't really like steak, he would often offer to cook one for me, just the way I liked it, and he would have corned beef, which I don't really like.
Meanwhile, ION, the thing called 'Parliament' in Ukland is debating the uncertain future of our once great nation.
I, OTOH, have decided to resort to WHISKY (Irish, on account of my eligibility for citizenship of that esteemed Republic), whilst I await The Worst.
Happily, it has been a fine, sunny, autumnal day here, and the Episcopal Ark has this afternoon been graced by the presence of Mr and Mrs Three, the local swan family, with their three splendid cygnets.
They appear to be quite territorial birds (Mr and Mrs Five keep themselves TO themselves some way downstream), and are always welcome visitors, partly because they neatly peck off the weed from the sides of the Ark.
I guess that, perhaps excepting less common visitors, such as New Forest/Dartmoor ponies, or deer (in Scotland, and elsewhere), these are probably some of the largest wild creatures one is likely to encounter, at least on a regular basis?
If one (or two) of the adults should decide to come ashore, and want to give you a hand at emptying the boot of your car of shopping, you DO NOT want to mess with them...
I know whereof I speak. Not that I bear them any ill-will...
Silly question, BF - how can you distinguish the Three family from the Five family? To me, as embarrassing as it is to admit, all swans do look the same!
Mr & Mrs Three have Three sniggets (love the word), which still have some of their brownish plumage, whereas the Five....well, let the reader understand!
Things are going well. I haven't yet run out of fingers. Hopefully there are going to be no further refs to numerically named swan families? (Toes are hidden in slippers. I can't go any further.)
I guess that, perhaps excepting less common visitors, such as New Forest/Dartmoor ponies, or deer (in Scotland, and elsewhere), these are probably some of the largest wild creatures one is likely to encounter, at least on a regular basis?
I don’t think New Forest ponies count because, although they aren’t exactly tame, they are all owned (as are the pigs, cows, sheep and donkeys). But New Forest deer are pretty large and are definitely wild even though I was visited by a herd wandering around a nearby campsite (I rather like being able to go on holiday close to home).
I love the wildness of smaller hedgehogs wandering around fairly urban areas (we get visited by the occasional deer too) - it’s as though we’re being reminded were not completely in charge (although their human-induced decline is sad).
Although it's technically within the city limits, Château Piglet is almost out in the country; there's a field with cows in it just up the road, and an orchard down the road. D. had to brake sharply to avoid all sorts of creatures along there - deer, raccoons, squirrels, chipmunks and on one occasion, a porcupine.
Wallabies? Really?? And I thought you only got them in the Southern Hemisphere.
Back to church for the first time today since D. died, and Got Through It. We were a very depleted choir: about half were away at an annual choral festival in Saint John, and one or two others were missing as well, so we just did a said service with hymns. These were accompanied on the piano by a young girl who's one of the servers, and she did very well indeed, apart from not giving us a bar's rest between verses, resulting in slight loss of puff ...
Now messing about on here while contemplating more important things, like lunch - avocado on toast, I think.
Oops, I briefly thought Heavenlyannie was someone from Down Under. I just got hooked on the Wallaby. - My apologies. And the mentioned somewhat rude saying is of course not from Heavenlyannie Shire, but from Down Under too!
Driving through the Dunstable Downs, you have to avoid the wallabies.
For real, or escapees from Whipsnade?
Presumably escaped from Whipsnade, they are near the zoo and a successful and well known colony. When I lived in Luton in the 80s I would often see them.
Oops, I briefly thought Heavenlyannie was someone from Down Under. I just got hooked on the Wallaby. - My apologies. And the mentioned somewhat rude saying is of course not from Heavenlyannie Shire, but from Down Under too!
No problems fo me, Wesley J, and I am from downunder.
Your saying would not be considered impolite down here, but as with most results of mechanisation and factories and similar, it is not heard as much as once it was.
Comments
I recall (many lustra ago) a country churchyard in the next Diocese, which was used (by permission) as grazing for a local farmer's flock.
The grass was as neat and tidy as a bowling green (well, apart from the Umps and Ollows caused by the many graves), and the brick path to the door of the church was discreetly protected by a low wire fence, to prevent the Faithful from treading poo into the Sacred Edifice.
Winners all round, ISTM! The woolly lawnmowers did a superb job, the PCC had a lot less work, and the farmer knew where his sheep were, when he wanted them. I don't know if the practice still continues, as there is nowadays a desire to keep churchyards in a rather more natural state, to encourage wild flora, and fauna.
And have you actually heard Ra Ra the Noisy Lion?
Many years ago a friend transported a sheep from the far east coast to the far west coast of the UK for his mum in the back of a tiny car (might have been a mini) without a nappy. I never heard about the state the car was in when he arrived.
It's a filthy day here today: the threatened Special Weather Statement was no lie, and it's been Wet and Windy all day. I can't express my relief that Harry the Handyman came round on Tuesday and put right that which was amiss with the bedroom window, thereby preventing the ingress of any H2O.
The counter-top bloke turned up this morning, so I've to choose a style, get someone from the hardware shop to come and measure it, and then he'll come back and fit it.
I've also typed address labels for thank-you cards for most of the sympathy cards* I've received (of which there are many), so I feel that I've achieved something.
I'm going back to choir practice tonight, and I understand we'll be rehearsing a little anthem by D.**, so I hope I can keep my tear-ducts in check!
* Sadly, not all the cards had return addresses, but there's not much I can do about that.
** The lady who's conducting pro tem e-mailed me to ask if I'd be OK with us singing it, and I said yes - I hope I'm right.
We had a lion puppet but it scared too many children to be allowed out very often...
My son was an adult when he told me Dear Zoo had really scared him when he was small because of the lion.
Choir practice last night was grand - everyone seemed really pleased to see me, and apart from a slight wobble in my voice when I was thanking them for singing so beautifully at the funeral, I was just fine, even in D's anthem. I reckon if I can do that without wavering, I should be all right.
Some more declutterage has happened (this time the first instalment of D's hymnals and anthem books), and a friend from the choir and I spent a large chunk of the morning* waiting at Service New Brunswick to sort out the legalities of transferring the Pigletmobile into my name so that I can sell it.
Counter-top Bloke has been to measure up, and Harry the Handyman came to check that his fixing of the window had been effective after all the rain we had yesterday (over half an inch) - service with a smile!
There's a steak merrily marinating for supper, and I think I deserve a glass of something nice with it after such a productive day.
* well over an hour, to be exact. And it looks like we're going to have to go back again ...
I had a call from my old boss in Newfoundland this evening to say that she and my former colleagues have collected money and they want to institute an award in the local music festival in D's memory. He often accompanied my boss's daughter in the festival (she's now studying singing at university), and there's a category for "sacred songs", in which they're going to endow the award.
I'm really touched: what a lovely idea!
Food, especially if prepared and devoured as lovingly and with joy as in many of your tales, can be a very comforting thing. And daily rituals, small and not so small, like the beloved singing, are such a boon for body, mind and soul, and not just for ourselves alone.
This is good, Piglet.
<votive> continued
Piglet, that is truly a wonderful tribute
It was a decent-sized steak though not huge, and considering it was the first time I'd actually cooked a steak myself* it came out very nicely.
I had potatoes boiled in their skins (with lots of butter), a few grilled mushrooms and a tomato and a glass of Oakbank Cabernet Sauvignon from South-eastern Australia with it.
I've taken some fiddleheads out of the freezer, and am planning to make SOUP with them for supper.
* Although D. didn't really like steak, he would often offer to cook one for me, just the way I liked it, and he would have corned beef, which I don't really like.
Meanwhile, ION, the thing called 'Parliament' in Ukland is debating the uncertain future of our once great nation.
I, OTOH, have decided to resort to WHISKY (Irish, on account of my eligibility for citizenship of that esteemed Republic), whilst I await The Worst.
Happily, it has been a fine, sunny, autumnal day here, and the Episcopal Ark has this afternoon been graced by the presence of Mr and Mrs Three, the local swan family, with their three splendid cygnets.
They appear to be quite territorial birds (Mr and Mrs Five keep themselves TO themselves some way downstream), and are always welcome visitors, partly because they neatly peck off the weed from the sides of the Ark.
I guess that, perhaps excepting less common visitors, such as New Forest/Dartmoor ponies, or deer (in Scotland, and elsewhere), these are probably some of the largest wild creatures one is likely to encounter, at least on a regular basis?
If one (or two) of the adults should decide to come ashore, and want to give you a hand at emptying the boot of your car of shopping, you DO NOT want to mess with them...
I know whereof I speak. Not that I bear them any ill-will...
* I can't recall offhand the children's story that talked about "a snigget in a nest", but young swans will be forever in my mind "sniggets".
I'll see myself out.
Mr & Mrs Three have Three sniggets (love the word), which still have some of their brownish plumage, whereas the Five....well, let the reader understand!
And possibly quite a few Irishwomen, too.
O the shame. Yes, of course. Blame my (original) Scottish ancestry...
I love the wildness of smaller hedgehogs wandering around fairly urban areas (we get visited by the occasional deer too) - it’s as though we’re being reminded were not completely in charge (although their human-induced decline is sad).
Distracted dingoes, per chance? - I just see, BTW, that you have this marvellous saying 'as dry as a dead dingo's donger'.
Back to church for the first time today since D. died, and Got Through It. We were a very depleted choir: about half were away at an annual choral festival in Saint John, and one or two others were missing as well, so we just did a said service with hymns. These were accompanied on the piano by a young girl who's one of the servers, and she did very well indeed, apart from not giving us a bar's rest between verses, resulting in slight loss of puff ...
Now messing about on here while contemplating more important things, like lunch - avocado on toast, I think.
[cross-posted with Wesley]
Presumably escaped from Whipsnade, they are near the zoo and a successful and well known colony. When I lived in Luton in the 80s I would often see them.
No problems fo me, Wesley J, and I am from downunder.
Your saying would not be considered impolite down here, but as with most results of mechanisation and factories and similar, it is not heard as much as once it was.