Trevor

This is Trevor. He's a dog. He's usually quite tired so sits down a lot. This makes him semi autobiographical, but he can also juggle spoons, thus being skilled in his own right.

Up the hill backwards

Well, this was a fun thing to do after a month of self indulgence. A vigorous climb up Beacon Hill, just outside Newbury. It's a hillfort, it's got nice views, and you can climb up it. Bingo!

Here are the boys on the way up

The smaller of the two isn't being dragged up, even though it looks that way. It's more the reassuring hand of guidance, there to prevent slippage (it was a bit muddy).

And here is the summit. Note that soft toys are also permitted to walk up Beacon Hill - indeed they are mandatory items. If you don't place soft toys on the summit marker, you are actually thrown off the hill by the (invisible, obviously) hilltop monitor. Consider them a kind of votive offering. It's a good job we had some handy.

And on an unrelated note, I would give my right arm for eyelashes like these..

Winchester Bollards

The weekend before Christmas is a good time to get toothache. Or not, as the case may be. It also happened to coincide with what felt like the coldest weekend of the year so far. The coldest weekend since the 1660's probably, so it increased the level of dental discomfiture. A pity, since the ice rink had returned to the Cathedral square, surrounded by a festive (albeit expensive and overly esoteric) fair. The small one enjoyed his French Raclette. Mr Groke shivered a lot. But the teeth weren't up to the fun although the dentist did an efficient job of annihilating the troublesome abscess 2 days later. Still, the Cathedral looked fabulous as always, and someone has painted the bollards in the market place. Which was nice.

A view I could never tire of - pound for pound, one of the best cathedrals in the business

After the Norman Conquest, most French bollards were destroyed by disgruntled Saxons. This one, in the Market Square in Winchester, is the last surviving example of it's kind.

I simply remember my favourite things.

And then I don't feel so bad

An Owly Christmas

Not much time for blogging over christmas due to work, work and some more work, but we did do lots of yuletide stuff when time allowed. The tree looked reasonably surreal owing to the fact that it was used as a random display unit for various toys and bits of crochet. I left the decorating to the smallest member of the household, and this is what happened...

Owls nesting in a plastic Christmas tree. As they do at this time of year

The Owl pattern was courtesy of Brie at Roman Sock, whose patterns have now begun to take over the entire house, but in a good way. The softly fluffed feathers of the original were replaced by eyelash wool to make the owl look a bit more punky. This is because I am old, and can remember The Damned first hand with great fondness. The owls are the closest I've ever got to Dave Vanian, so their presence in the tree was fine by me. Here are three of them before they started roosting...

Not The Damned

And here is Dave, who was not in the tree, which is perhaps for the best as it would all have gone a bit top heavy and fallen on the turkey.

Not an owl

The tree also included a snowman and the previously seen Frenchman who returned for the holiday period.

At last - something seasonal...

Every tree needs one of these.

The moral of this story is to always let small children decorate the christmas tree. For entertainment value alone, it's worth it.