Saturday, October 29, 2016

Saturday 29th October

Pat (weaver of Grass) mentioned the other day that it is often difficult to find things to write about every day, not sure what to do about it either, occasionally (or perhaps most of the time) I become boring!)

We have hit a slump in the weather the shortest day grows near, and the gloom of the day meets the dark of the night.  Tomorrow the clocks change once more which I find very frustrating, it reminds me of a radio play I once heard, when TIME was different all over the country, and this time keeper went up Great Britain,  travelling I think by train, adjusting the clocks all to the same time.  Now we wander along in a rather soulless world of clocks all telling the same time, and the annual ritual of 'changing the clocks'.  How many can you count in your house, there is the cooker, the light timers, actual clocks, except the one which is miraculously governed by a satellite.  Computers can do it themselves, as can the boiler - life can be very complicated.....

My daughter and Lilly came down for a couple of days, along with their dog Teddy, who is a whippet and cannot be allowed free run round the chicken run.  He even contemplated jumping over the church wall presumably after the rabbits that come over from the field, unfortunately there are J and Rs sheep in that field, havoc would have taken place!  Lucy has accepted him into the house, they eat together, Teddy sleeps in Lucy's basket which she has given up since he started sleeping in it, but they get on pretty well, but whippets are definitely not country dogs.

Yesterday came across an interesting article in the Guardian, enterprising entrepreneurs are building long barrows in the style of the prehistoric ones, there are niches for the cremated bones, so you can't take your most treasured belongings as they would in the Neolithic, not sure I would be happy jostling dust to dust next to someone else, I shall be 'scattered' ;) somewhere. Someone joked about having a ritually sacrificed labradoodle and a samsung on one's chest, reflective of our age, it does give food for thought, but on the whole an efficient way of burial, those terrible London burials that are occasionally found by archaeologists great death pits of plague remind us that we are all only part of a great  tide of humanity.

Enough of death, coffee time soon, Lucy moaning gently because I am on my computer and not downstairs....

2 comments:

  1. I must say Thelma, I always think of whippets as poacher's dogs - which is why, I suppose, they really can't be trusted let out on their own.

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  2. Think you are right there Pat, they are sighthounds and belong to that breed of animals such as afghan hounds, greyhounds, etc. Also lurchers which are a cross of course and typical poacher dogs.

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