guys and girls

The sun has finally come out! The honeysuckle smells sweet and the lilies are seriously considering flowering.

This weekend saw the traditional stag do for Lovely Older Son and Hen do for Lady Sunshine. Before anyone jumps to conclusions, these didn't involve bawdy songs and too much alcohol, not with those two. The lads went to an outdoor activities centre where they had a great time doing archery, climbing things, falling off things, and running round things, followed by dressing up in padded Sumo suits. They were supposed to wrestle each other but invariably fell over and couldn't get up again without assistance. This was followed by a curry. What is it about blokes and curry?

I gave orders beforehand that nobody was to sustain any fractures. "If you break your leg, don't come running back to me!" A few grazes and bruises were sustained, but nothing permanent.

Lady Sunshine, Daughter, and friends were altogether more civilised. They painted pottery at one of those cafes, ate pizza in a restaurant, and returned home for party games including dressing Lady Sunshine in white bin liners and loo roll. All was rounded off with a Mad Hatter's Tea Party.

Now, that I would like. When Daughter next comes home, perhaps we can organise a Mad Hatter's Tea Party. Or Mad Fascinators?

Sepia

She of the Stories said that it's windy in the valley today, and the same goes for the island. Little Princess Almondflower wanted to play on the shore and I didn't dare let her. At the very least the sand would have blown into her eyes. Instead, we went to sit on the staircase outside Brother... it's no good, I always want to say Fir - Brother Juniper's turret, and looked down from the window. Every time a treetop shivered and leaves turned silvery in the gust she'd say 'ooh', and when anything flew past - a leaf, a bit of broken branch, or a bird veering off course - it was 'whoosh!'.

I admit I wasn't really listening when she said 'whoosh, FINGAL!', and looked up to see him swinging past the window, waving. A moment later he came again the other way, backwards. Of course, Fingal couldn't blow away in a high wind. He, Tide and Todd had rigged up some ropes from the battlements and were swinging about like acrobats. I didn't tell the princess how they'd done it. She'd want to have a go herself, and she is much too little. It's really too dangerous for Tide, but you know what otters are. I'm glad I'm a squirrel.

Fingal may not fly away in a high wind, but other things do. A little mole in a big cloak took to the air yesterday and it was only a flying leap from Urchin that saved her. I hope Apple has plenty of hat pins.

Classic funny

So there we were, eight of us, all sitting together in a hobbit hole. That is, it feels like a hobbit hole, except that it's so lined with books that I suspect the house is built of them and when you take one off the shelves you do so with great care and skill, otherwise the house falls down. It was the home of my fun and inspiring friends, C and S, where we always end up laughing a lot and talking about books.

I've known many book people in my time, but I've never met one quite like C, who has read everything ever written in the English language at least, and owns most of it. Conversation turned to classic humour, and the discovery that my great friend Daphne hasn't read Three Men in A Boat (Jerome K Jerome). HOW HAS SHE LIVED? And what a treat she has waiting for her!

It turned out that lots of us loved P G Wodehouse. Those books read as naturally as if a monocled gentleman was telling you the story over a drink by the fire. What C told us was that Wodehouse redrafted every book ten times before he was satisfied with it, and read his way through Shakespeare every year. Yes, it takes a lot of effort to make something seem easy.

We also told each other to read the Molesworth books (Willans and Searle) and James Thurber. And Terry Pratchett.

Any more recommendations, please?

while...

As I was outside the other day trying to detach myself from the sticky stuff, Much drily remarked, 'she'll be there while next Tuesday'. SO I need to explain the Yorkshire use of 'while', as it was explained to me many years ago.

'While' is used for 'until'. 'I'm working while six today', or 'he won't be back while Thursday'. 'you can tell 'im while t'cows come 'ome, 'e won't listen'. (Yorkshire tends to drop its aitches, too, except, strangely for 'haitch' when they add one.).

I was told the following story about the Yorkshire town we first moved to, but I've heard it about other places in the country, too. Long long ago, when they first introduced traffic lights, a sign was put up which read, 'wait here while light is red'. After a week as an accident blackspot with the local pedestrians traumatised, they changed it. 'Wait here until light is green.'

stuck

I should have asked Fingal, Corr, and Needle. They know all about sticky traps.

I recently bought some sticky stuff to keep the greenfly off the roses. The idea is, you hang it up close to the rose bed and the greenfly stick to it. The instructions, which I followed to the letter, said something like 'peel off protective cover from sticky thing. Hang sticky thing near roses'.

Now, you, being clever - or any of the three intelligent animals named above - would spot the mistake. I am a Bear of Very Little Brain, and didn't. It ought to say ' hang the sticky thing near roses, then peel off the protective cover'.

The sticky stuff really works. My sleeve stuck to it, and my left hand, then my right hand when tried to get the right one off. It stuck the wire thing I was using to hang it up, then it stuck to me again. Never mind, I'll know better next time, assuming that it works and there is a next time.

After a stormy night, it's caught two greenfly and a rose bush.

rumbling in the valley

The trouble with snoring is that you don't know if you're doing it or not, unless, of course, you come out with such a roar of a snore that you wake yourself up. I've just bought ear plugs.

But last night, babysitting for the Golden Child and her brother, I was really a bit alarmed. When it was time for her brother to go to bed we tiptoed up the stairs very quietly so as not to wake her up, but honestly, if she could sleep through her own snores, she could sleep through a Harley Davidson with a dodgy exhaust roaring through the nursery. I sat with her until her breathing was calmer and she had a little murmur to herself in her sleep. Her mum told me later that the GC always snores like this when she's teething, poor little thing.

I feel a story coming on. The princess who snores so loudly that everyone moves out of the castle? A boy who goes on a quest to find a cure for his little sister's snoring? The Champion Snore Contest? Any thoughts?

t'

I've now lived for thirteen years in Yorkshire, first on the edge of the North York Moors and now in the valley. Perhaps one day we'll go back to Northumberland, or even move to the warm south. (But my sister would disown me.) In the meantime, however long I stay here, I will always be an offcumdun. Offcumdun is the Yorkshire word for a newcomer. I think I'm an accepted one.

One aspect of Yorkshire that I had to learn pretty quickly was the accent and dialect. I'd heard people trying to do Yorkshire accents and saying t', and thought it was an exaggeration. Then we came to the valley and heard it all 'time.

T' is an abbreviation for 'the'. 'She's gone to weed t'garden'. 'She planted trees int' garden',
'there's a cat sitting ont' wall', 'take this to t'post office'. Sometimes it's not even a t', just a glottal stop.

Eeh, well, this won't buy t'bairn a new frock. I've got t' e-mails to to do, and I 'aven't washed t'pots yet.