2 July 2009
15 May 2009
10 April 2009
:: playing catch-up
Erm yes, I went to London, just a few days. It's always the same - I think how marvellous it will be to go away for a break, make lots of plans in my head, etc. Finally I book the time off - hugely complicated in this instance because one of my colleagues had taken voluntary redundancy and had to actually stay on longer to fill in for me. I contact friends, make vague plans, book the dogminder... and then nothing, until I suddenly realise it's only a week away and frantically book some transport, which because I left it so late turns out to be madly expensive and un-green (ie Easyjet). I've also left it too late to book anything like theatre or ballet, gah. And in fact I've gone off the whole idea and would rather stay at home.
But despite all that I did have a lovely time. I stayed with Rona, who is a great host. As well as a bed, she gave me an Oyster card and a list of cheap-and-tasty cafes, and off I went.
My first stop was Sir John Soane's museum, which I'd always wanted to see. It is wonderful, literally - full of wonders. It's hard to pick out any one thing, but for me the jaw-dropping surprise was in the tiny picture room, probably six feet square. I was peering at one of the Rake's Progress series when the attendant started unlatching one of the walls. It opened out to reveal yet more paintings - more Hogarth, some Turners, a Fuseli... and then he opened the next set of leaves. More paintings! He turned to the back wall and set about opening that - it really was astounding. The place is so small and dense with treasures they limit the number of people visiting. Because I went on a week day I didn't have to wait long, but apparently on Saturdays the queue winds right down the street.
I also visited the Tate Modern, loved the Roni Horn exhibition there, and the British Museum, where I enjoyed the Shah 'Abbas exhibition and visited old favourites like the mummies and the Assyrian panels and sculptures. One day I took to the river, boated up and down, hopping off at various points and hopping back on again. It wasn't as good as the Batobus in Paris, but still fun.
I also went on a G20 protest march, the TUC one on the Saturday. It was very decorous and uneventful, in contrast to the later demonstrations in the City, where a man died of a heart attack after being shoved over by a policeman in riot gear.
And so back to Edinburgh, where I collected a skinny old Bertie from the dogminder - he had looked particularly thrawn when I left. The other "guests" were an elderly incontinent labrador and a demented bearded collie that kept trying to hump him. I don't think B had a very restful stay. He ate a huge amount when we got home and then slept like a dead thing.
I had a burst of energy and did some gardening - mowed the "lawn", planted onions, swept and scraped moss off the sit-ooterie and scrubbed all the garden furniture. The next day it rained. Sigh. But it looks lovely. I'm growing spuds this year too.
Health news: I've been having regular blood pressure checks for a while now. The only time they've been in the normal range was when I was on holiday, so now the doctor wants me to wear a 24-hour monitor. You wear a BP cuff that auto-inflates every hour. Friends who've worn them say it makes sleeping difficult! A clinic at the hospital organises this - I should get it within a couple of weeks.
I'm pretty sure work stress is keeping my blood pressure up. It's been awful since the end of last year when the economy started going belly-up. Yesterday we had a leaving do for one of my workmates who's taken voluntary redundancy. Another one of the chaps and I went shopping with a big plastic bag full of money we'd collected for him - we got him a TomTom satnav thing and some book tokens, he was delighted. We are going to miss him so much! They've opened the book for redundancies again - sort of tempting, but there's not much work out there and I have a mortgage to pay.
I got a mug with this on it, and it's my motto now:
But despite all that I did have a lovely time. I stayed with Rona, who is a great host. As well as a bed, she gave me an Oyster card and a list of cheap-and-tasty cafes, and off I went.
My first stop was Sir John Soane's museum, which I'd always wanted to see. It is wonderful, literally - full of wonders. It's hard to pick out any one thing, but for me the jaw-dropping surprise was in the tiny picture room, probably six feet square. I was peering at one of the Rake's Progress series when the attendant started unlatching one of the walls. It opened out to reveal yet more paintings - more Hogarth, some Turners, a Fuseli... and then he opened the next set of leaves. More paintings! He turned to the back wall and set about opening that - it really was astounding. The place is so small and dense with treasures they limit the number of people visiting. Because I went on a week day I didn't have to wait long, but apparently on Saturdays the queue winds right down the street.
I also visited the Tate Modern, loved the Roni Horn exhibition there, and the British Museum, where I enjoyed the Shah 'Abbas exhibition and visited old favourites like the mummies and the Assyrian panels and sculptures. One day I took to the river, boated up and down, hopping off at various points and hopping back on again. It wasn't as good as the Batobus in Paris, but still fun.
I also went on a G20 protest march, the TUC one on the Saturday. It was very decorous and uneventful, in contrast to the later demonstrations in the City, where a man died of a heart attack after being shoved over by a policeman in riot gear.
And so back to Edinburgh, where I collected a skinny old Bertie from the dogminder - he had looked particularly thrawn when I left. The other "guests" were an elderly incontinent labrador and a demented bearded collie that kept trying to hump him. I don't think B had a very restful stay. He ate a huge amount when we got home and then slept like a dead thing.
I had a burst of energy and did some gardening - mowed the "lawn", planted onions, swept and scraped moss off the sit-ooterie and scrubbed all the garden furniture. The next day it rained. Sigh. But it looks lovely. I'm growing spuds this year too.
Health news: I've been having regular blood pressure checks for a while now. The only time they've been in the normal range was when I was on holiday, so now the doctor wants me to wear a 24-hour monitor. You wear a BP cuff that auto-inflates every hour. Friends who've worn them say it makes sleeping difficult! A clinic at the hospital organises this - I should get it within a couple of weeks.
I'm pretty sure work stress is keeping my blood pressure up. It's been awful since the end of last year when the economy started going belly-up. Yesterday we had a leaving do for one of my workmates who's taken voluntary redundancy. Another one of the chaps and I went shopping with a big plastic bag full of money we'd collected for him - we got him a TomTom satnav thing and some book tokens, he was delighted. We are going to miss him so much! They've opened the book for redundancies again - sort of tempting, but there's not much work out there and I have a mortgage to pay.
I got a mug with this on it, and it's my motto now:
29 March 2009
4 February 2009
:: marmalade
I got out my jam pan again today - this time to make marmalade. What a faff it turned out to be! But worth it, I think.
The first step is to get the right kind of oranges. Not navels, they're too sweet. It has to be seville oranges, which are too sour to be good for anything else. But the thing is that seville oranges are only in season for five minutes, and that brief season has never before coincided with me feeling like making marmalade or having a recipe or even the other ingredients.
So, I when I saw Nigel Slater's marmalade recipe in the paper a couple of weeks ago I tore it out and thought, I wonder if you can still get seville oranges in the shops... but didn't actually go looking for them.
Then Faye came to stay for a few days and on Saturday, a full week after I got the recipe, we had lunch at the local farm shop. And guess what they had on sale? Seville oranges. I vaguely remembered the recipe so bought 12, for the princely sum of £1.46. Obviously on a roll now, I found a bag of preserving sugar in the back of the cupboard, plus I had a couple of lemons and a good stockpile of jars.
That just left the muslin bag. Muslin - where do you get muslin these days? My one and only piece of muslin was a tiny square I got with some skin cleanser. A kitchen shop, maybe? Searches brought up all kinds of weird
jelly-straining solutions and even a dainty, Delia-approved cloth (as small as my facecloth),but not plain muslin bags. Then I had a brainwave - I thought of those muslin cloths you use with tiny babies, to protect your shoulder from burped-up milk. Visited Sainsbury on the way home from work one night and bingo, there they were: five giant muslin squares for a fiver. The woman at the checkout said, "I didn't think you could still get these!"
So last night I started to make marmalade. One of the oranges had started to go off, so I threw in another lemon. First, trim the peel off the fruit and slice it up. Squeeze the juice from the pulp into a jug. Easy-peasy lemon squeezy! An hour later and I was still peeling and chopping and squeezing, hands sticky and stinging. At long last I was done and put the whole lot together in my biggest pot: peel, juice and water to make four litres, and the pulp and pips bound up in a muslin square (previously washed and rinsed).
That sat overnight. The rest would be a breeze compared with the preparation, I thought. I got up early this morning, ready to knock out a few jars of marmalade before walking the dog. Poooooooor Bertie. Once I'd decanted the whole lot into the preserving pan (you're not supposed to leave acid mixtures in it for too long I read somewhere ... though I can't find anything like that on the net) it took over half an hour to come to the boil. Then it simmered for an hour while I had breakfast. After that I was supposed to fish out the bag of pulp, let it cool and squeeze out as much juice as possible into the pan, add the sugar and boil the whole mess fast for quarter of an hour, until a spoonful set in a saucer. Ha ha ha!!!
I should have known better - in fact later on I looked up Nigel's recipe on the net and saw he'd added some extra stuff ... like that this stage could take longer than 15 minutes. A lot longer. It took forever to wrestle with the pulp-stuffed muslin (hot! hot!) and melt the sugar in, and then get the mix boiling again. By the time gotten sick of waiting for the mixture to wrinkle on the saucer and Bertie was definitely sick of waiting for a walk, the windows were running with condensation and the kitchen and I were a sticky mess.
I poured the marmalade into the jars and bolted the lids on - done! Bottled sunshine. I have to say it does taste lovely. Really tangy and fresh. And it might even set.
In other news, I went to the doctor this afternoon about my bunions - or at least the one that occasionally causes me to shriek with pain as I put in the clutch. He wasn't in the least bit interested ("The surgeon won't want to see you until it's MUCH more distorted, red and inflamed."), but did take my blood pressure (the conversation idled around from feet to knees to weight) and it turns out to be too high. High enough to catch his attention. So now I've got to go to the practice nurse (though I'd rather have a real one, ha ha) and have my blood pressure taken next week and the week after.
I didn't tell him about the marmalade.
Weather: It snowed madly in London and the south-east and now it's snowing madly up north. It has not, as yet, snowed madly in Edinburgh. We had a few flurries, followed by slush. Quite annoying.
The first step is to get the right kind of oranges. Not navels, they're too sweet. It has to be seville oranges, which are too sour to be good for anything else. But the thing is that seville oranges are only in season for five minutes, and that brief season has never before coincided with me feeling like making marmalade or having a recipe or even the other ingredients.
So, I when I saw Nigel Slater's marmalade recipe in the paper a couple of weeks ago I tore it out and thought, I wonder if you can still get seville oranges in the shops... but didn't actually go looking for them.
Then Faye came to stay for a few days and on Saturday, a full week after I got the recipe, we had lunch at the local farm shop. And guess what they had on sale? Seville oranges. I vaguely remembered the recipe so bought 12, for the princely sum of £1.46. Obviously on a roll now, I found a bag of preserving sugar in the back of the cupboard, plus I had a couple of lemons and a good stockpile of jars.
That just left the muslin bag. Muslin - where do you get muslin these days? My one and only piece of muslin was a tiny square I got with some skin cleanser. A kitchen shop, maybe? Searches brought up all kinds of weird
jelly-straining solutions and even a dainty, Delia-approved cloth (as small as my facecloth),but not plain muslin bags. Then I had a brainwave - I thought of those muslin cloths you use with tiny babies, to protect your shoulder from burped-up milk. Visited Sainsbury on the way home from work one night and bingo, there they were: five giant muslin squares for a fiver. The woman at the checkout said, "I didn't think you could still get these!"
So last night I started to make marmalade. One of the oranges had started to go off, so I threw in another lemon. First, trim the peel off the fruit and slice it up. Squeeze the juice from the pulp into a jug. Easy-peasy lemon squeezy! An hour later and I was still peeling and chopping and squeezing, hands sticky and stinging. At long last I was done and put the whole lot together in my biggest pot: peel, juice and water to make four litres, and the pulp and pips bound up in a muslin square (previously washed and rinsed).
That sat overnight. The rest would be a breeze compared with the preparation, I thought. I got up early this morning, ready to knock out a few jars of marmalade before walking the dog. Poooooooor Bertie. Once I'd decanted the whole lot into the preserving pan (you're not supposed to leave acid mixtures in it for too long I read somewhere ... though I can't find anything like that on the net) it took over half an hour to come to the boil. Then it simmered for an hour while I had breakfast. After that I was supposed to fish out the bag of pulp, let it cool and squeeze out as much juice as possible into the pan, add the sugar and boil the whole mess fast for quarter of an hour, until a spoonful set in a saucer. Ha ha ha!!!
I should have known better - in fact later on I looked up Nigel's recipe on the net and saw he'd added some extra stuff ... like that this stage could take longer than 15 minutes. A lot longer. It took forever to wrestle with the pulp-stuffed muslin (hot! hot!) and melt the sugar in, and then get the mix boiling again. By the time gotten sick of waiting for the mixture to wrinkle on the saucer and Bertie was definitely sick of waiting for a walk, the windows were running with condensation and the kitchen and I were a sticky mess.
I poured the marmalade into the jars and bolted the lids on - done! Bottled sunshine. I have to say it does taste lovely. Really tangy and fresh. And it might even set.
In other news, I went to the doctor this afternoon about my bunions - or at least the one that occasionally causes me to shriek with pain as I put in the clutch. He wasn't in the least bit interested ("The surgeon won't want to see you until it's MUCH more distorted, red and inflamed."), but did take my blood pressure (the conversation idled around from feet to knees to weight) and it turns out to be too high. High enough to catch his attention. So now I've got to go to the practice nurse (though I'd rather have a real one, ha ha) and have my blood pressure taken next week and the week after.
I didn't tell him about the marmalade.
Weather: It snowed madly in London and the south-east and now it's snowing madly up north. It has not, as yet, snowed madly in Edinburgh. We had a few flurries, followed by slush. Quite annoying.
15 January 2009
:: An annoying day
First off, a nice sunset at Blackness Castle:
I blogged this from the phone, but for some reason browsers don't like it and eventually the photos go away. A mystery. So I sent the photo to flickr and linked back to here.
Anyway, the walk at Blackness was a nice interlude in an otherwise fraught day.
First off, I broke a tooth. And this is complicated because my dentist "sacked" me a few years ago when he went private. I should have gone straight to a local dentist and signed up to a dental plan. But of course I didn't. I have an absolute horror of dentistry, having had awful experiences as a child at the hands of school dental nurses with slow drills and quick tempers.
But now I have to have a dentist. And because my work situation's a bit wonky and because I already pay National Insurance, preferably an NHS dentist. But dentists who are taking NHS patients are rare beasts. I turned to the NHS itself for help. The website ("NHS Lothian at your service") had a couple of numbers to ring to locate your nearest NHS dentists.
The result was the same at both numbers: it rang a few times, a recorded voice said "goodbye" and the line went dead.
So I got to work compiling lists of dentists and phoning them, starting from the one up the road and working my way out. Very cunning, those dentists. It turns out you have to have a "clean bill of dental health" before you get on a plan, ie you have to have all your teeth fixed before they'll afford you the privilege of paying up to £40 a month for any subsequent dental treatment. And the prices!! £75 just for an initial examination, without any treatment.
I phoned and phoned and phoned, getting more and more despondent as the apparent cost of fixing my tooth mounted. Finally, a cheery receptionist said, "Yes we take NHS patients." I almost fainted. The appointment's not until next month, mind you, and it is 15 miles away. But still!
I could have annoyed myself still further by doing what was on my schedule before the tooth broke: giving Bertie his weekly treatment shampoo. But I think that would have broken me. So instead we went for a nice walk at Blackness. Because it was such a nice walk, with lots of friendly dogs and walkers for Bertie to schmooze, I took longer than intended and had to race around when I got home, getting ready for work.
I needn't have bothered: there was a whole new set of roadworks in place on a major road on my route, the traffic was crawling along. This is for new gas mains, same as the roadworks that have closed off the street I work in, which means I have to do a big complicated circuit around streets choked by roadworks for the trams - and by traffic that's doing a big complicated circuit around my work street and a couple of other major thoroughfares closed by tram works. There are also various random roadworks - for example there's one little side street that's crucial to my circuit that is sometimes blocked off because of building construction work.
What with all the hurtling around earlier, I didn't prepare anything for my dinner - I like to take a salad box or sandwich or something, because the canteen food is really pretty dire. Tonight's offering was big dish of mince with a pastry top, simmering in half an inch of fat - served with chips, of course. Ick. But it seems I won't have the chance to turn up my nose much longer: the canteen staff were told today that from March it's closing at 2:30pm. Not only that, they're all being sacked and will have to reapply for a much smaller number of jobs - 13 staff, 4 jobs.
And then tonight was hard, hard work, from go to whoa. I'm on my own tomorrow as well, so it will be even harder work.
However. The moral of my day is, no matter how annoying it was, at least I'm not having to compete against my workmates for a new job (yet). And at least I didn't have to slosh around in the Hudson River after my plane crashed.
I blogged this from the phone, but for some reason browsers don't like it and eventually the photos go away. A mystery. So I sent the photo to flickr and linked back to here.
Anyway, the walk at Blackness was a nice interlude in an otherwise fraught day.
First off, I broke a tooth. And this is complicated because my dentist "sacked" me a few years ago when he went private. I should have gone straight to a local dentist and signed up to a dental plan. But of course I didn't. I have an absolute horror of dentistry, having had awful experiences as a child at the hands of school dental nurses with slow drills and quick tempers.
But now I have to have a dentist. And because my work situation's a bit wonky and because I already pay National Insurance, preferably an NHS dentist. But dentists who are taking NHS patients are rare beasts. I turned to the NHS itself for help. The website ("NHS Lothian at your service") had a couple of numbers to ring to locate your nearest NHS dentists.
The result was the same at both numbers: it rang a few times, a recorded voice said "goodbye" and the line went dead.
So I got to work compiling lists of dentists and phoning them, starting from the one up the road and working my way out. Very cunning, those dentists. It turns out you have to have a "clean bill of dental health" before you get on a plan, ie you have to have all your teeth fixed before they'll afford you the privilege of paying up to £40 a month for any subsequent dental treatment. And the prices!! £75 just for an initial examination, without any treatment.
I phoned and phoned and phoned, getting more and more despondent as the apparent cost of fixing my tooth mounted. Finally, a cheery receptionist said, "Yes we take NHS patients." I almost fainted. The appointment's not until next month, mind you, and it is 15 miles away. But still!
I could have annoyed myself still further by doing what was on my schedule before the tooth broke: giving Bertie his weekly treatment shampoo. But I think that would have broken me. So instead we went for a nice walk at Blackness. Because it was such a nice walk, with lots of friendly dogs and walkers for Bertie to schmooze, I took longer than intended and had to race around when I got home, getting ready for work.
I needn't have bothered: there was a whole new set of roadworks in place on a major road on my route, the traffic was crawling along. This is for new gas mains, same as the roadworks that have closed off the street I work in, which means I have to do a big complicated circuit around streets choked by roadworks for the trams - and by traffic that's doing a big complicated circuit around my work street and a couple of other major thoroughfares closed by tram works. There are also various random roadworks - for example there's one little side street that's crucial to my circuit that is sometimes blocked off because of building construction work.
What with all the hurtling around earlier, I didn't prepare anything for my dinner - I like to take a salad box or sandwich or something, because the canteen food is really pretty dire. Tonight's offering was big dish of mince with a pastry top, simmering in half an inch of fat - served with chips, of course. Ick. But it seems I won't have the chance to turn up my nose much longer: the canteen staff were told today that from March it's closing at 2:30pm. Not only that, they're all being sacked and will have to reapply for a much smaller number of jobs - 13 staff, 4 jobs.
And then tonight was hard, hard work, from go to whoa. I'm on my own tomorrow as well, so it will be even harder work.
However. The moral of my day is, no matter how annoying it was, at least I'm not having to compete against my workmates for a new job (yet). And at least I didn't have to slosh around in the Hudson River after my plane crashed.
7 January 2009
:: bertie update
Bertie had his second treatment shampoo today. He's dim enough that he walked happily into the bathroom; but he suddenly remembered that the last time he was in there Bad Things happened, and tried to back out. There followed a mad struggle, with lots of flailing and swearing, and finally splashing. The third bath will be even more entertaining.
He's on his fourth course of antibiotics, the infection not having completely cleared up. The vet also told me to give him 1,000mg of evening primrose oil a day, so that's on order via the internet (only £18 for a year's supply, not bad!).
The vet and I had a bit of an argument over his diet. She thought he was looking a bit skinny and asked what I feed him. When I told her half a pound to a pound of meat, raw or cooked, plus as much high-quality kibble as he wanted, she tutted and said, "No, no, dogs shouldn't eat meat." Eh? "They're not designed to eat meat." I'm sorry? "They should eat dog food." We had this discussion as I was grappling Bertie on to the scales, where it transpired that he's not underweight after all. But she still insists he's not getting a balanced diet.
I explained how the last time he lost a lot of weight was before I went away on holiday, when I had to feed him dog food at regular meal times because I was training him up for life with the dog minder. There's only one brand of packet food he'll eat at all now - Nature Diet, 100% natural and of course madly expensive. Liz reported that he didn't eat at all for the first couple of days and was picky after that. He used to like Butchers - only the tripe flavour - but he's gone off that. The only kibble he likes is Judge's Choice Greyhound Maintenance (By Royal Appointment). He'll be enthusiastic about other brands for a few days, but then turn up his nose - and he'd rather die of hunger than eat Bakers Complete. He's as picky about treats: yes to Frolics and Markies; no to Gravy Bones and Winalot Shapes. He's crazy about Greenies Smart Sticks at the moment too - they're teeth-cleaning treats made with green tea ... and of course they're insanely expensive.
So, with all the effort I go to to give Bertie tasty, nutritious food, you can imagine how thrilled I was to be lectured on how he shouldn't eat meat. I had visions of a wolf in the pet supermarket, leaning on its trolley as it reads the labels: "Hmmm... carrots, rice, ok. But lamb - I don't think I'm meant to eat lamb..."
To reassure myself that I'm not going mad, I did some internet research and found that while dogs are classed as omnivores and can eat grains and vegetables (unlike cats, which are carnivores), their diet should be based on .... MEAT. The only caveat about giving fresh meat was that dogs might eat too much of it and become obese. Which is not really a problem for Bertie.
He's on his fourth course of antibiotics, the infection not having completely cleared up. The vet also told me to give him 1,000mg of evening primrose oil a day, so that's on order via the internet (only £18 for a year's supply, not bad!).
The vet and I had a bit of an argument over his diet. She thought he was looking a bit skinny and asked what I feed him. When I told her half a pound to a pound of meat, raw or cooked, plus as much high-quality kibble as he wanted, she tutted and said, "No, no, dogs shouldn't eat meat." Eh? "They're not designed to eat meat." I'm sorry? "They should eat dog food." We had this discussion as I was grappling Bertie on to the scales, where it transpired that he's not underweight after all. But she still insists he's not getting a balanced diet.
I explained how the last time he lost a lot of weight was before I went away on holiday, when I had to feed him dog food at regular meal times because I was training him up for life with the dog minder. There's only one brand of packet food he'll eat at all now - Nature Diet, 100% natural and of course madly expensive. Liz reported that he didn't eat at all for the first couple of days and was picky after that. He used to like Butchers - only the tripe flavour - but he's gone off that. The only kibble he likes is Judge's Choice Greyhound Maintenance (By Royal Appointment). He'll be enthusiastic about other brands for a few days, but then turn up his nose - and he'd rather die of hunger than eat Bakers Complete. He's as picky about treats: yes to Frolics and Markies; no to Gravy Bones and Winalot Shapes. He's crazy about Greenies Smart Sticks at the moment too - they're teeth-cleaning treats made with green tea ... and of course they're insanely expensive.
So, with all the effort I go to to give Bertie tasty, nutritious food, you can imagine how thrilled I was to be lectured on how he shouldn't eat meat. I had visions of a wolf in the pet supermarket, leaning on its trolley as it reads the labels: "Hmmm... carrots, rice, ok. But lamb - I don't think I'm meant to eat lamb..."
To reassure myself that I'm not going mad, I did some internet research and found that while dogs are classed as omnivores and can eat grains and vegetables (unlike cats, which are carnivores), their diet should be based on .... MEAT. The only caveat about giving fresh meat was that dogs might eat too much of it and become obese. Which is not really a problem for Bertie.
1 January 2009
:: happy new year!!
I hope everyone had a better Hogmanay than me - I've got the cold that's been doing the rounds for a few weeks now. I'm at the hacking cough stage, and I've been trying to take it easy because I've got a ticket to Handel's Messiah tomorrow at St Cuthbert's Church in Edinburgh. It's put on every New Year by the Edinburgh Royal Choral Union, and one of my work colleagues is a soprano. I've been a couple of times and it's great. Everyone brings along a picnic and you eat it in the interval. Normally it's held in the Usher Hall, but that's being renovated so this year it's in St Cuthbert's. I don't want to be that annoying person coughing through the whole thing...
Today I went to another traditional event - the Loony Dook right here in Queensferry. Normally it's at noon, but this year the tide was too low at noon so it was put off until 1.30pm (not that I realised that - I thought I was late, but in fact I was early). I read afterwards that there were about 600 dookers.
Some of the costumes were fantastic - there were pirates, hula girls, nuns, gangsters, even a Zaphod Beeblebrox. This was my favourite:
The front of his thong was "anatomically correct" - really, really funny! If you click on the photo and look at the biggest one in "all sizes" you can see the reaction of people across from me. Priceless.
I took a little movie too - spot the kiwis! There were loads of Antipodeans there. I think Loony Dooking is like running with the bulls in Pamplona.
It was seriously cold, frost on the ground - rather them than me!
Bertie had his own dooking yesterday. He has a mystery skin condition and the latest treatment involved a medicated shampoo that had to be left on for ten minutes. (I'd had the camera out in the freezing cold on a walk for a couple of hours and it steamed up when I took it into the bathroom. Tsk.)
It went a lot better than I'd anticipated. He didn't struggle too much when I dumped him in the tub and stood reasonably quietly while I wetted him down and worked in the shampoo. He did try to climb out a couple of times during the ten minutes of waiting, but on the whole was very good about it. The result was great - he's all lovely and silky smooth and soft, just like a shampoo ad! And scab-free, for now.
It's all very tedious though. At first - as reported in an earlier post - I thought there was something wrong with his back, because he flinched if you stroked him, to the point of almost collapsing. So the vet prescribed painkillers and spoke worryingly about tumours on the spine.
But then one day after his walk I took off his coat and his back was covered in a kind of dandruff. On close inspection, the skin on his back was all scabby and reddened. Plus he was nibbling away at his flanks. Back to the vet, who took skin scrapings and prescribed antibiotics. The talk was now of mange - oh dear - though the vet had her doubts because he wasn't itchy enough, the scabby bits weren't in the right place (should have been his mouth and legs) and his hair hadn't all fallen out.
As a precaution I replaced his duvet and boil-washed his bedding and jacket. I also started putting him in a T-shirt at night.
The skin scraping results came back negative for mange. The scabs were from a "bacterial infection" - a bug that dogs have on their skin all the time but that can get out of control if they're run down or elderly. More antibiotics were prescribed, a longer course this time. I also ordered Bertie a new jacket (washing the old one had stripped out all the waterproofing) and a house-coat.
Last week he finished the latest antibiotics and was still scabby, so the vet (a different one - there are two of them at the Queensferry clinic) prescribed another course, a steroid injection, plus the shampoo. Oh and she said I shouldn't put Bertie in a house-coat. "They're not designed to wear clothes," she said - though she did concede that it was ok for him to wear a coat outdoors in the subzero weather we're having. Greyhounds do need coats in the cold - they've so little body fat and such thin coats they need a bit of protection.
Despite all the inflammation and scabbiness and medication though, Bertie has been in good spirits throughout, with undiminished appetite and energy. He loves his walks, especially in his favourite parks, and people are always exclaiming, "Eleven! Really? He doesn't LOOK eleven!"
So - another new year. This one is going to be challenging for me. I'll find out in the coming month just how challenging - there's a chance I'll be laid off, but at the very best my working patterns will change dramatically and not in a good way. I'm keeping as positive as possible and counting my many blessings, but I can't help but be nervous about what the future will bring.
Today I went to another traditional event - the Loony Dook right here in Queensferry. Normally it's at noon, but this year the tide was too low at noon so it was put off until 1.30pm (not that I realised that - I thought I was late, but in fact I was early). I read afterwards that there were about 600 dookers.
Some of the costumes were fantastic - there were pirates, hula girls, nuns, gangsters, even a Zaphod Beeblebrox. This was my favourite:
The front of his thong was "anatomically correct" - really, really funny! If you click on the photo and look at the biggest one in "all sizes" you can see the reaction of people across from me. Priceless.
I took a little movie too - spot the kiwis! There were loads of Antipodeans there. I think Loony Dooking is like running with the bulls in Pamplona.
It was seriously cold, frost on the ground - rather them than me!
Bertie had his own dooking yesterday. He has a mystery skin condition and the latest treatment involved a medicated shampoo that had to be left on for ten minutes. (I'd had the camera out in the freezing cold on a walk for a couple of hours and it steamed up when I took it into the bathroom. Tsk.)
It went a lot better than I'd anticipated. He didn't struggle too much when I dumped him in the tub and stood reasonably quietly while I wetted him down and worked in the shampoo. He did try to climb out a couple of times during the ten minutes of waiting, but on the whole was very good about it. The result was great - he's all lovely and silky smooth and soft, just like a shampoo ad! And scab-free, for now.
It's all very tedious though. At first - as reported in an earlier post - I thought there was something wrong with his back, because he flinched if you stroked him, to the point of almost collapsing. So the vet prescribed painkillers and spoke worryingly about tumours on the spine.
But then one day after his walk I took off his coat and his back was covered in a kind of dandruff. On close inspection, the skin on his back was all scabby and reddened. Plus he was nibbling away at his flanks. Back to the vet, who took skin scrapings and prescribed antibiotics. The talk was now of mange - oh dear - though the vet had her doubts because he wasn't itchy enough, the scabby bits weren't in the right place (should have been his mouth and legs) and his hair hadn't all fallen out.
As a precaution I replaced his duvet and boil-washed his bedding and jacket. I also started putting him in a T-shirt at night.
The skin scraping results came back negative for mange. The scabs were from a "bacterial infection" - a bug that dogs have on their skin all the time but that can get out of control if they're run down or elderly. More antibiotics were prescribed, a longer course this time. I also ordered Bertie a new jacket (washing the old one had stripped out all the waterproofing) and a house-coat.
Last week he finished the latest antibiotics and was still scabby, so the vet (a different one - there are two of them at the Queensferry clinic) prescribed another course, a steroid injection, plus the shampoo. Oh and she said I shouldn't put Bertie in a house-coat. "They're not designed to wear clothes," she said - though she did concede that it was ok for him to wear a coat outdoors in the subzero weather we're having. Greyhounds do need coats in the cold - they've so little body fat and such thin coats they need a bit of protection.
Despite all the inflammation and scabbiness and medication though, Bertie has been in good spirits throughout, with undiminished appetite and energy. He loves his walks, especially in his favourite parks, and people are always exclaiming, "Eleven! Really? He doesn't LOOK eleven!"
So - another new year. This one is going to be challenging for me. I'll find out in the coming month just how challenging - there's a chance I'll be laid off, but at the very best my working patterns will change dramatically and not in a good way. I'm keeping as positive as possible and counting my many blessings, but I can't help but be nervous about what the future will bring.
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