Saturday, 18 November 2017

Posh Wellies

Today we met a posh lady while we were out walking with Rick.  She was wearing pink Hunters (posh wellington boots).  Paul said they were red.  They were definitely pink.  Rick stopped to sniff her dog, a pretty little Spaniel.  “Come along Hunter,” she said, dragging her designer dog away from our scruffy little half-breed.  Seriously, she had named her dog after her wellies!   “Come ‘ere Rick!”  Paul shouted.  In hindsight I suppose “Viens ici Reeeque” would have sounded far more classy.

Rick loves his new bed

Friday, 17 November 2017

You're Back Then

“So you’re back then, you’ve been away for a long while.”  Mr Irish came over this morning and met Rick for the first time and brought us up to date with all the gossip from our courtyard community (our coach house shares a courtyard with a block of flats and three houses).

Apparently the young couple in the top corner flat were evicted after partying and getting drunk every night and making life a misery for Mr Frost who lives in the flat underneath. They have been replaced by another couple. “They’re from Roumania,” we are told.

The nice lady in the middle flat had problems with her shower that flooded the Vampires flat on the ground floor.  They had to move out temporarily while it was fixed.
“Strange couple, she’s from Russia I think.  They always have their blind down.”
“Vampires,” Paul said.
Mr Irish nodded in agreement.

top flat (has a bit of a duck fetish)

middle flat (looks like a Rumtopf)

bottom flat occupied by vampires

 Marmite the black cat has also moved out from the corner house along with his mistress, Louise.  She has been replaced by a single dad and one of his children (apparently mum has the other child).  Perhaps he will get together with our neighbour Lisa who is also a single parent.

So there we are, all up to date with the neighbourhood.

Thursday, 16 November 2017

Found My Dream Home!

Our property search in England (for Rick’s house with a garden) will not begin in earnest until next year but it doesn’t stop me browsing through Rightmove to get a feel for the housing market in different areas of the country.

Yesterday I found this 17th century, half timbered house in Shropshire.  It is Grade II listed so it is almost impossible to make any changes, it will have thin walls and very little insulation, it needs a new kitchen and bathroom, it is next to a brook so probably has damp problems too.  It only has two bedrooms, the rooms are small and dark.  But I think it’s lovely!

Tuesday, 14 November 2017

Ooh, I've found a hole!

“Ooh, I’ve found a hole Mrs Willliams,” said Mr Smiley gleefully, “I shall have to drill out the old mercury and refill your tooth with some shiny new white stuff.”  Yes, it was my bi-annual visit to the dentist this afternoon.
“What have you been doing Mrs Wirriams, your teeth are so stained” said the hygienist.  She was oriental, small and pretty and dressed all in pink.  I’ve been drinking cups of tea and plenty of red wine and I have no intention of stopping.

I really dread going to the dentist and I’ve been jittery all day.  Now I’ve got to go back for that wretched filling next month and it will be murder driving into Bath and fighting with the Christmas traffic in December.  (All the roads here in the UK seem so congested after the empty roads of France, queues and road works everywhere.)

Rick is off to the vets tomorrow morning to have his claws trimmed.  Paul will make a big fuss of him.  Sometimes I wish I was a dog.

Saturday, 11 November 2017

Kissing Gate

It’s grey, cold and drizzly, a typical November day in England.  Nevertheless Rick needs his exercise so this afternoon we set off to explore a track that leads to a Nature Reserve.  We followed the track past a farm and out into the countryside until we came to a gate.  The ‘kissing gate’ appeared to be locked so I clambered, with some difficulty, over a very high stile. We followed the pathway to the woods until we came upon a small lake; several ducks flew up as we approached and a heron flew up and perched in one of the trees.

spot the heron

The light was fading fast so we headed back towards the farm.  I struggled back over the stile, even more difficult this time as I had a poo bag in one hand.  On closer examination of the kissing gate I found it wasn’t locked at all.  Bah!

kissing gate
To make matters worse I've just discovered there is no ice for my whisky tonight.