I need a holiday – well I need to take some time off work, we’re not planning our holiday until September this year. I keep coming home from work and falling asleep for a couple of hours, I only woke up yesterday evening because Himself came in and asked me to take his car for a test drive as he was covered in oil. I could win a gold medal for sleeping at the moment - although I've never managed to drop off in my manager's office.

Himself had been outside fixing new brake pads and wanted to see if they were working correctly. Yes, a little disconcerting that one – he wanted me to test his car to see if the brakes worked. I wonder if at long last he's had enough of me? Or maybe he just thought he'd enjoy the insurance money?

Anyway they worked just fine and after he tidied up we decided to go out for a drive – ending up in Bewdley. Where we bought a portion of chips and then sat by the river to eat them, before walking through town. It was nice to get away from everyone and their demands and just spend some quality time together.

Unfortunately I had taken my camera with me – I wanted to see what sort of pictures, if any, I’d get when it was going dark. The Kodak camera just stopped working when it was twilight, unless you count a pictures of black cats in coal holes.

Blackstone Rock by the River Severn

I'll forgive her anything at the minute even her squealing about one of my finer moments in my career because she's sent me chocolate of the really dark variety. And she is telling the truth -yes folks I fell asleep with my head on desk in the office of my boss. Does life get any more embarassing than this? Well, yes actually. My boss tried to wake me with coffee - a tried and sure method usually - but this time it didn't work and he thought I was having a near death moment; honestly he did. In his defence he had spoken to me, shook me, then shouted at and shook me and I still was out of it. So he panicked and ran for help and then apparently I was surrounded by men all shaking me and shouting at me and also, so the story goes, each other.

Moral of the story is don't move house in a heat wave, have hay fever and try out a new medicine for said sneezing and itching eyes all in a matter of days.

By most peoples standards I would say I’m considered an animal lover, the blog is littered with tales of creatures that I’ve saved. But I’m afraid that last night was one paw print too far.

It’s been very warm just lately - that much so, that I’ve got the fans out of storage and have left them on at night – we can’t all have air conditioning. I’ve even got rid of the duvet and we’re just got a top sheet covering us. Which was probably why I woke up.

You know when you’re in that state of semi sleep? Not properly asleep, but still sort of vaguely aware of background noise – the sound of the fan, the dawn chorus starting up outside….the cat jumping off the bed. And a few minutes after that the strange feeling of something crawling up the sheet between me and Himself.

I didn’t register the sensation straight away, but I’ll admit that I came awake rather quickly when it eventually sank in – and just to prove that I was fully awake I shot out of bed.

To be fair, this didn’t bother the mouse in the slightest; it continued its rather shaky walk up towards the pillows. The cat had obviously been ‘playing’ with it as it was damp and in a state of shock. In fact, it was nearly as shocked as me.

The cat by the way, was sat on the window sill looking outside and when I shouted at her she shot out of the window – I think even she may have cottoned on that this time she had pushed her luck too far.

You can tell how disorientated the mouse was, it let me pick it up without trying to jump six foot in the air. It then let me carry it downstairs and even sat on my arm as I fought to unlock the front door. A quick look outside and I left it on the front step – it wasn’t there this morning, so either the cat had found it again and taken it off, or it had wandered away all by itself.

Himself of course, slept all the way through the three in a bed experience, although he wasn’t too pleased when he found out. He’s going to have to find a way of putting some mesh up to the window – because it’s too hot to keep the window closed, but even I draw the line at sharing my bed with a mouse.

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You’ll be pleased to know that Pooks managed to control herself and is not under arrest for the murder of several members of her family. She decided to try pill popping instead – she spent yesterday in a drug crazed state. Love and peace, man. You’d think she’d set a better example to her children.

Oh OK – she’s not some drug crazed addict; she had a reaction to a new antihistamine tablet and it knocked her out. It just makes me feel better knowing that someone else can out do my escapades every now and again.

And moving on very quickly before she thumps me – today’s pictures. Where did everyone go?

After much ‘shall we?’ ‘Shan’t we?’ - we at last decided to join the National Trust. For a start it was get 12 months membership for the price of 9 months, and most of the places we visit cost us £10 to get into anyway – so six visits and we'll have got our money back – and as we’re out most weekends we should in fact be well in pocket. The other point of course, maybe even more important, is that we are supporting a charity that is trying to preserve places of natural beauty and historic interest for the future. So much of English history has been lost.

Croome Park, was saved from being turned into a golf course, with the help from money from Lottery Hertiage Fund. The Court itself isn’t part of the trust, although I believe they are trying to negotiate buying some more of the land around the court, especially the Rotunda. The park was Lancelot ‘Capability’ Brown’s first complete landscape park. He worked with Scots Robert Adam and James Watt (see Soho House Blog) to produce buildings and features that still adorn the park today, some three hundred years later.

So that means you're in for yet more photos and another history lesson, aren't you lucky? No, don't answer that one! I've always found English history to be interesting, even as a child it fascinated me – I’ve said before that I spent a fair amount of my childhood wandering around the County museum. Now I can travel even further a field and visit places that I've only read about.

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The first church at Coome was mentioned in 1283, but an agreement was reached with the Bishop of Worcester and this was pulled down. The new church was designed by Brown and Adams and was dedicated in June 1763 to St Mary Magdalene. The monuments and graves from the previous church were moved to the new one.

Thomas 1st Earl of Coventry (d. 1639). To signify his position as Lord Keeper of the Seal he is shown flanked by seated figures of Justice and Vitue.

The 2nd Earls wife, Mary (d.1634). She is shown holding a baby, indicating that she died in childbirth. Two small figures at her feet probably indicated two children.

The field in front of the church was seeded with a mix of native English wildflowers and grasses.

The Temple Greenhouse was designed by Robert Adam in 1760 and housed the Earl's collection of exotic plants. In winter a fire was lit in the brick bothy at the rear and the heat was transmitted through voids in the paved floor.

The Druid was added to the park under the supervision of James Watt. It is made from Coade 'stone', a manufactured material that was formed in a mould then fired at great heat. A lot of famous English monuments were made this way.

The dry arch bridge is also decorated by coade stone river-god keystones.
Brown designed the urn as a focal point for the parkland views.

The Island Pavilion & bridges. The Pavilion contains several coade plaques, with the central one depicted in a painting that hangs in the Vatican.

The Grotto (originally adorned with semi-precious gems, which would have sparkled and shimmered) and a monument to Sabrina, Goddess of the River Severn. No, not in honour of the TV witch, but after the mythical story of the drowning of a nymph. Water was channelled to the statue through hollowed out tree trunks and would have poured out of her urn into the rock pool below.

Brown died in February 1783 on his way back from visiting the 6th Earl of Coventry at his London residence. The Earl later erected this monument to Brown, overlooking the landscape he had created.

I finished reading Peter Kay’s autobiography 'The Sound of Laughter' last night, now I’ve got nothing to read. Well that’s not strictly true. I’ve about four other books that I could read, but I know that they won’t measure up to the one I’ve just read. They would all have been perfectly good reading material if Peter Kay hadn’t been so bloody funny. He’s not everyone’s ‘cup of tea’ I know, but I appreciate his sense of humour. We definitely view the world though similar glasses – that tied in with the fact that he’s a bit younger than me so I remember the things he mentions from his childhood. It was a bit of a wander down memory lane. The other thing that made my day was the fact that the book contained several errors - the proof reader missed them - so that was something else that I have in common with him.

Which then got me to thinking ‘why is anybody interested in what I mutter on about?’ – I mean it’s hardly riveting stuff. I don’t live the film star life style, far from it. I can’t even claim the award for wonderful housewife and perfect mother. Let’s be perfectly honest here, I didn’t even make the short list for either of those - Jade Goody beat me. And there’s no point in me trying to bluff it now – I’ve been too honest in the past, everyone knows exactly what I’m like. Himself is currently up for 'The Most Longest Suffering Husband Award' – he’s made the finals and the Bookies are giving good odds on him winning.

So after giving it much thought (we can pretend, OK) I’ve put it down to one or more of the following facts; you read the blog:

a) Out of politeness because you know me or talk to me.
b) It’s become a bad habit – like smoking or biting your nails, you know you shouldn’t do it as it's not good for you; but you can’t stop yourself and the patches you buy don’t work.
c) You’re all as nosy as me – I read other peoples blogs, both real (Chris) and fictional.
d) It reminds you of things that have happened to you in the past and then you either sympathise or laugh you’re socks off – possibly both.
e) Pooks was right, that bloody dog has his paws on the keyboard again and keeps knocking that stats counter up.

Oh, that reminds me – The Leprechaun is rather busy at the moment, so those of you that fall into the B, C & D categories needn’t worry – she’s not sulking at the lack of encouraging emails that you haven’t sent her regarding her stories. Well she is but we can ignore that – she read my stories and blog and didn’t utter a bloody word. Which in all honesty now that I know her I find truly hard to believe – the woman has an opinion on everything and isn't backwards in coming forwards. Actually I do miss her; it's really quiet without her - I keep thinking I've gone blind (work it out).

And I’ve not managed to argue and insult her that much that she’s refusing to speak to me either (yet). So never fear, those of you that read the comment box as well, I can assure you that normal hostilities with begin again shortly.

And now we can move swiftly on to the photos – yes, there are yet more of them. It’s your own fault – you knew at the start that visiting here wasn’t good for you. I'm fairly sure that there's a warning attached to me, word gets around - you should have taken more notice of it.

So it’s no use now saying; I only visited once. I don’t have a problem; I can stop anytime I want to, 'cause you can't - can you? ......as the stats counter grinds to a halt :-)


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I just sat in the field (remembering my Brownie motto, 'Be Prepared', this time I took a couple of Piriton tablets first) and watched the dogs play hide and seek in the grass last night. I don't need to exercise them, they manage perfectly well all by themselves - even Billy puts the effort in for a while.

I did say for a while, he's 14 after all - which makes him 98 in dog years. But he demands that I take him with us and the girls keep him on his toes.

In this photo he looks like he's got a pair of ill fitting false teeth!

Do I suffer for my art or do I suffer for my art? The answer to that is yes, btw.

I went for a walk down the fields last night, the one field has been left fallow. Which means it full of grasses, wild flowers and pollen. Lots of pollen. I’d been down there less than a couple of minutes before I started to sneeze and my nose started to run.

Did I give in? Noooo, of course not - I’m English, I carried on regardless; the stiff upper lip and all that (it's a mad dogs & Englishmen thing). Which meant that when I got home, I needed two Piriton tablets instead of the one. Obviously time to start pill popping the allergy tablets again to kick my system in.

So to today's pictures – I’m afraid you’re going to have to accept this for a while, I’ve a new toy so obviously I’m going to have to play with it. Yes, everyone is going to suffer - even the cat; who got pissed off with me messing about trying to sort the light settings out and I still didn't get it right. I shall have to read the manual.

The first two pictures that I took were in a neighbour’s garden. Yes, cheeky sod that I am, I took pictures of their flowers (we'll there aren't any in my garden, to survive an attack from me and the dogs they’d have to barricade themselves in).

Next door appear to be growing rather a lot of poppies, which has just reminded me of a story that I’ll tell you about in a minute. Oooh a Ronnie Corbett moment, it's been a while since I had one of those. Although I suppose it could be a Max Bygraves moment - his catchphrase being 'I want to tell you a story'.

And unfortunately for you lot, that has just triggered another memory of watching Sunday Night at the Palladium on telly with my Mum, Dad & my Nan. My Nan loved that show, we'd have our drinks and packet of Golden Wonder crisps ready for it to start. I remember the 70’s version of the programme, which apparently wasn’t as good as the earlier one, but we still enjoyed it.

OK, back to it ~

The next lot are from down the fields.

Cow Parsley. Now if you think I have a problem - think again. Just look what someone posted on U Tube, and it's had over 433 views too. At least with my photos you can see what you're looking at.

Clover - with an insect trying to get in on the act (which I'll admit I didn't notice at the time). It's obviously heard all about the ants and wanted its 15 minutes of frame as well. What can I say, word gets around.
So to the story I mentioned earlier (I know, nothing for a week and then you can't shut me up). I can’t remember if I’ve told you this already or not, so just nod if you’ve heard it before and pretend you haven’t.

When the kids were small with lived in a ground floor flat. The ground floor flats had both front and back gardens and there was a bit of competition between the neighbours as to which block had the nicest gardens. Now I have to admit that I am to gardening what Sweeney Todd was to hair dressing. Plants and flowers just take one look at me and die – they obviously think why prolong the agony?

Anyway, at the time my Dad convinced me that even I couldn’t over water African Marigolds – look, if your own parents don’t believe in you, what chance have you got? So I dug a border around the front and back garden, visited the garden centre and purchased said plants. Something my Dad failed to mention was the fact that African Marigolds smell awful, a bit like cat wee (please note that I’m trying very hard to be more polite, otherwise I’d have said piss). Personally I don’t think they’re partially pretty either, but in fairness to the plants they at least tried to live.

I did my up most to look after them too. I weeded and watered them. I even gave them a drink of Baby Bio plant food once a week. It was during one of my weeding afternoons that I noticed a small plant growing outside the kitchen window, it was bigger than the other weeds and didn’t look like them. So not at all sure what it was, I left it to see if it would grow into a flowering plant. Look, any plant giving it a go at survival in my garden deserved a chance. It joined the ranks of the 'Looked After and Cared For'. I weeded around it, watered it and gave it the weekly tipple of Baby Bio – yes, you get the drift.

Boy, did it grown into a good sized plant; I showed it off to my elderly neighbour – someone that not only had a beautiful garden but also grew all this own veg too. He couldn’t tell me what it was either, never seen anything like it before. At this rate I would have to send a photo to Alan Titchmarsh to see if he could tell me what it was. It didn’t look like it would ever flower, but it kept throwing out unusual shaped leaves. Maybe it was some sort of shrub.

It was a little while after that when Himself called to me to watch the news one night. Didn't that look like the plant I was growing? He asked. Good grief, so it did – just like it. I then went on to watch the rest of the news item about a house that had been turned into a cannabis growing factory.

The plant that I had so tenderly cared for was in fact a cannabis plant, and total innocent that I am, I didn’t have a clue. At the time we had a budgie and I used to throw his Trill seed out of the kitchen window for the wild birds. I suppose back then drugs weren't the big money earners they are now and people weren't so aware - easy internet access wasn't available for a start and computers had just started to get the general public's interest, so I doubt that bird seed manufactures sterilised the seeds. One of the seeds must have germinated, no wonder Trill is meant to make your budgie bounce with health.

Himself pulled it up in the end and burnt it on the bonfire, quite sad really - for once in my live I'd found a plant that I could manage to grow.

Still talking about the weekend – look, you had a week of peace and quiet, now I’ve started again there’s no stopping me – Sunday I tried a bit of retail therapy, everyone I know raves about it after all. And to be honest, I quite enjoyed myself this time. Yes, you did hear that correctly – I enjoyed shopping.

Of course, I was shopping for a new camera at the time, so I suppose that may have been the reason why. I’d been talking to Himself about it for a while now – I was planning on it being a Christmas present. But this weekend Himself insisted we go and look and to be honest I didn’t put up much of a fright against it. He was all for me buying a SLR digital camera with detachable lens, but I'm not ready for that sort of thing. It's more a professional photographers camera, I'd be worried about damaging it when out on a walk in the rain.

My Kodak is a good camera, it’s given me hours of pleasure and has produced some good shots but……

There have also been times that I’ve taken photos only to find that when I’ve downloaded the quality or detail have let me down. The bird I was trying to capture for posterity was a tiny dot in the centre of the picture, which let's be honest could have been mistaken for a bit of dirt on the lens. It was a great camera to introduce me to the joys of photography but I’d got to the point I wanted better zoom and more pixels. Want, want, want, that’s me.

So into Kidderminster we went – yes, I probably could have brought one off the internet for a better price, but I needed to try the camera out – because how they sit in your hand is important. No, honestly it is. Yes, I grant you that all the super zoom and pixels are important, but if you can’t hold the camera comfortably then you may as well just forget all the clever extra bits. All that will happen is when you press the button you get camera shake because you move the camera as well as the button. Naff pictures all the time.

So we went all over – PC World, Currys, Dixons and Jessops. And I bet the assistants just loved me. I made them show me everything – unlock cabinets to remove cameras, made then search their store rooms, got cameras out of boxes and then I asked question after question. At the end of it all I said the same to all of them; thank you for your help, I’ll think about it. I left them putting everything back.

In the end I decided on this one: http://www.olympus.co.uk/consumer/29_SP-510_UZ.htm

The gentleman in Jessops definitely went pale when I entered the shop for a second time, but rallied when it dawned on him that I wanted to actually buy a camera this time. Not only a camera but a memory card, more rechargeable batteries and a new camera bag. You’ve got to admit that when I do get around to shopping I don’t have a problem making up for lost time.

As we were leaving the assistant told me that if I wasn’t satisfied with the camera I could bring it back within 30 days for a full refund. I smiled at Himself and said; Oh good, we’ll be able to return it after the wedding then and get our money back. You could tell by the look on the assistant's face that he wasn't at all sure whether I meant it or not. Himself gave me a dirty look and assured the man I was joking. Bloody spoil sport, no sense of fun.

Curly fern, bigger than the real plant.

And this time I could take pictures from a distance; which meant the subject didn't do a runner and spoil the shot.

Blame the ant pictures on Scally, she should never have said: 'I suppose we're going to have to put up with hundreds of pictures of ants or something while you fiddle with it and get the settings right'.

Wood ants at work - click on the picture, go on, click it - look at the one with the leaf, he's smiling!

No I’ve not disappeared off the face of the earth; I’m still alive and kinking (that was deliberate btw, not my normal spelling mistake) - I’ve just not been in the right frame of mind to write anything over the last week. Not depressed, depression means something different to me. Just feeling a bit low.

Lots of different little things that have brought my mood down and I’ve discussed them with Scally and Pooks but nothing really has happen outside normal day to day life, nothing to account for the mood swings. What with that and the fact that I’ve been sleeping such a lot lately and my emotions have been rocketing from very snappy to very teary at times, a few warning bells have been going off.

I have a history of depression; I’m very open about it, as anyone who has read this blog on any regular basis will know. It was the ultimate reason for starting the blog – somewhere to just voice my feelings. By expressing them they are out in the open, no longer buried inside. Of course it’s not always the easiest of things to do, hence nothing for the last week.

Unfortunately the mood means that instead of talking about it, you turn in on yourself. The time to worry isn’t when you have a moment of self pity or a good old moan (as Scally said, both of those are perfectly normal and everyone does it occasionally), it’s when stop talking altogether, shut the door on the world.

To me depression is no different from some other illness or infection that reoccurs once in a while, although Thrush is a dam sight easier to get rid of and you can have such fun with yoghurt! The dark shadows can often be found lurking in background, most of the time I can push them away, but when I get low I’m more aware that without care they could suffocate me again.

I’ve had what I class as three major episodes of depression in my life, starting in my late teens and I’ve learnt to recognise the signs. There are signs and triggers – but everyone is different. Some people can recognise the signs and do something about it themselves, others need help. Strategies that may work at times, don’t always work and ultimately medication is needed. No two people are the same and no two episodes are the same. Each to our own, the only thing we all have in common are those dark shadows.

Depression scares people, they aren’t comfortable with it. Sometimes I think it’s because they don’t know what to say to you, other times I wonder if they think it’s catching. You can feel people take a mental step back – in a way it’s a similar reaction to that of grief. The look and body language of people say it all; please don’t talk to me about it, pretend it never happened, talk about everything else but the thing that is staring everyone in the face. Uncomfortable, embarrassed. I think the most annoying thing for me is the opinion that you must be weak willed, because nothing could be further from the truth.

Anyway, for now at least my mood has lifted and my sense of humour is fighting back; this weekend we’ve been out and about a lot more. I decided that my walks are more important to my health than the swelling and discomfort I get in my knee. I can deal with that with the help of a knee support, ice pack and pain killers. Getting out and about helps keep my shadows at bay, for the moment at least.

It’s made me realise how much getting out of the house and spending time with just Himself is significant to my mental well being, how much pleasure and happiness I get from the places we visit and the photo’s I take.

I tried to explain to Pooks what I get from my walks, that the colours of the trees and fields affect me – she kindly didn’t mock the afflicted (for a change) – but agreed with me. Certainly if you look on the internet there are web pages galore about it, so there must be something in it.

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So to this weekend and the chance to get out and about again, sod my knee; we’ve been on a walk across the old rifle range.

Back to Birmingham and a visit to the Sealife Centre.

This time there were no queues; just lots of petty (I was going to correct this after I noticed it, but it made me laugh so I've left it) fishes and sea creatures.

My favourite room had to be the Ray Pool – a large glass tank which you could walk completely around or stand on the wooden step to look inside. The Rays come to the surface and stick there noses out of the water – it’s just as if they are looking back at you.

Then back to Birmingham Art Gallery and Museum, we still didn’t get all the way around. The thing that amazed me was the fact that I was looking at paintings by Gainsborough, Reynolds, Constable and Rossetti, all names that I knew well – but not behind glass or with ropes in front of them, just hung on the walls, I could get as close as I liked (yes, I know that you are meant to view them from a distance, I did that as well). And I still got away with talking some pictures although I'm pretty sure I wasn't meant to, I just made sure that the attendant was looking the other way at the time.

Miss Isabella Franks (c1775) by Thomas Gainsborough