Torquay pottery update

Someone asked (Issy was it?) to see my latest Torquay pieces, esp. the kingfishers jar I got last weekend, so here goes . . .  You can see why I fell in love with it : )

The little green jug I got today for £2, and the other more unusual one wasthe dark blue one on the left with the Stork (or Heron) on it.  That was given to me with another piece, so I baked the lady a cake in return.

The one on the right (with the "tadpoles" around the top) is one that my husband found for me yesterday (£2 again).  Probably Edwardian.

Another £2 piece.  You may notice it isn't with the others.  That's because I have run out of room on that shelf.  Oh dear - I can see I need another shelf : ) The little green owl is an old match-holder and strike-a-light (£2 again) - not Torquay, but isn't he cute?

Back tomorrow hopefully - oh, and Theo is now wanting to meet the other cats and after I got a stroke down his back today, he then let me touch his head when he was eating and did exactly what Lucky did, all those years ago, when she had come to me, starving - he pushed his head up into my hand, as much as to say, "Oh I do like you really". . .  I'm sure ALL getting-tamed cats will do that, but I feel Lucky has sent him my way

Theo the Untouchable!

I am glad to report he (DEFINITELY a he!!) has settled in well, and is feeling better in himself.  Well enough, indeed, to start cleaning himself up and the "ginger paws" are now turning out to be white ones covered in clay staining . . .

He is completely litter-trained already - whether this by design or happy mistake I'm not sure, but it's a positive.  He has a very healthy appetite, but I should think I am feeding a barrel-load of worms and he has a lot of weight to gain.  Those worms will be dealt with once he has progressed from being an "untouchable".

I am dealing with that as I did with Miffy's boys (and indeed, Miffy herself) - by gently touching him with the fluffy plait on the end of my old schooling whip.  Desensitizing, as Monty Roberts does with horses using a "hand" on the end of a stick to touch them from a distance, so that they don't  realize they are being "stroked" by the human.

Yesterday, my husband left the front door open and he escaped.  I was not party to this fact until I saw him sitting on the sitting room window-sill, whilst the hail storm to end all hail-storms was taking place out there.  I had just been saying, "Thank heavens Theo isn't out in that" when I saw that he was!  I dashed to the front door to open it, startled him and he ran off into the storm.  I'm afraid my husband had a few sharp words from me, as I had expressly said to keep the door SHUT until he was tamer and "hefted" to the house properly.  Grabbing a jacket, I ran to the yard, to see him disappear from sight round a corner of the barn, and I couldn't find him anywhere.

I was despondent when I came back in, thinking he would be out forever, and soaked, cold, hungry, miserable, chased by the horrid tom etc.  I knew I wouldn't be sleeping well that night for worrying about him.  I had left the door open - just in case - and no-one was more surprised than me to see him sitting by his food bowl later, looking hungry!  So today the door has been left open and he's had a little stroll outside and then come back in again.

I peeped just now, and there was a Bank Vole in his food bowl!  What the heck?!  I can only assume that Lucy had returned and left it outside and he had purloined it and pretended it was HIS work!

Anyway, he has been people-watching whilst I've been making soup in the kitchen, and he came through and had a wander round before going back for some more cleaning-up (those feet are VERY dirty).

Leanne - that makes, ahem, 9 now . . .  We got back down to 5 at one point, having lost Tippy, Gypsy and Lucky in the space of 5 months.  I guess word got around that there may be vacancies!

DW - oh gosh, I'm surprised the welcome sign hasn't been washed away recently, but no - still shining brightly for pussums!

Marilyn - welcome.  As you'll have read, Theo is a male (he had a wash earlier and they were difficult to miss!)

Parsnip - yes, always another OMG moment, but sometimes they move on.  The big bad toms who turn up get actively chased away, but this one made himself at home before I changed my mind!

Em - I shall get a voucher for having him neutered/wormed/defleaed soon.  I think I will put one of the cat boxes in there so he uses it and it won't be such a shock when he suddenly gets shoved in one to "take a ride" .

MM & Denim - my heart went out to him.  Soooooooo thin, and JUST like our old Timmy.  Tam will love him when she sees him this month.

Vintage Jane - definitely a boy, and definitely HE chose US! 

AJ - no way could I turn him away.

The latest addition to the family . . .

Here "he" is.  I'm pretty sure it's a he, but I could be wrong.  Anyway, at the moment we will assume it is.  He was around for breakfast yesterday, but by teatime he was missing.  Of course, I thought the worst . . .

 

 Pretty little chap isn't he?

 

Anyway, having spent the night thinking of him dieing alone in a farm outbuilding, chased off by the nasty local tom, or fallen into the slurry lagoon (as you do, in the depths of the night), I came down this morning - and found him in the hall, demanding breakfast!

The door had been left open all day yesterday and either he has had some experience of "indoors" or he is very confident, as he must have come in.  He has been cwtched up in the Junk Room, where there is plenty of cover.  He has been called Theo (as in Theodore Roosevelt) but may end up as "Teddy".  If he's a she, we will have a rethink . . .

Here he is on the wall - I was trying to show how thin he was, but you'll have to take my word.  That's Fluff in the background, looking daggers at him.

Wandering into October . . .

Well, an interesting few days for us here.  We have woken up to October this morning - still grey and wet out there, but that's nothing new!  I have also woken up to a peak flow of 440 - and this is BEFORE medication!!!  I am thrilled to bits, as it means I am finally on the mend and my lungs aren't so bad they are incapable of improvement.  I can only put it down to walking up the steepest hills I could find last week, which - although far from enjoyable and blardy hard work - has expanded my lungs and helped to clear them.  In a week's time I have my respiratory tests at the Hospital, which have to be undertaken without medication, so the fitter I am, the less distressing these tests will be.  After the initial ones, I will then be given Ventolin and I have to do the tests again (Ventolin will help me to breath more easily).

Anyway, we had a good wander around two car boot sales at the weekend and got some useful things, including a box of 10 small Kilner jars for £2, which were just what I needed, though I will have to fork out for new lids for them.  I haven't been able to bottle any fruit until now, because buying in the jars etc new is prohibitively expensive.

We took a stand at the Antiques Fair/Fleamarket yesterday and were fortunate to get a stall inside, as there had been a cancellation.  The forecast had been bad and the light showers turned into heavy rain by lunchtime and the folks outside were rained off.  I came home with a new-to-me piece of Torquay pottery, which I am hoping may be a Bovey Pottery piece (Bovey Tracey was my dad's home village) - it's a big blue jar with a raised motif of kingfishers, beautifully decorated, and we haggled it down to half the asking price in the end as it was missing a lid.  I can live with that!  I had looked at other pieces of Torquay pottery, and there was a little 1920s pinch jug that I liked but I didn't dare to spend before we had sold anything and when I looked later in the day it had gone . . .  In fact, ALL the Torquay ware had gone bar "my" jar and a large hat-pin holder which I didn't like anyway. 

Oh, and remember that little tabby cat?  Well, it turned up at feeding time last night and is a poor little half starved kitten, about 6 mths old I'd say.  Not too terrified of people (it got close enough for me to have touched it, but I didn't want to scare it first time we "met".)  Anyway, it had a good scoff last night, and spent the night in a box of scrumpled up newspaper in the porch, and had a hearty breakfast this morning.  It is sneezing and has a cold though, so I shall have to keep an eye on it.  May need to tempt into a cat box and take it to the vet.   Sigh.  But I cannot watch it starve to death in front of my eyes . . .

Cows would never make good burglers!

That sounds a ridiculous statement, but when you live next to a dairy farm, you have plenty of chance to observe cow behaviour, for good or bad.

I can always tell when they have the boyfriend working of the lass who does the milking.  The cattle will come down from the fields making a din, obviously unhappy, and their noise is accompanied by a regular beeping of the Landrover's horn, as the very impatient boyfriend (who HATES cows and anything to do with them) chivvies them along, nearly hitting the halt and the lame who bring up the rear with the front bumper of the Landy.  When anyone else brings them in, they are quiet.


 We get an awful lot of racket when there the calves are separated from their mamas too.  The calves are left with them for a couple of days and then they are seperated, and the calves come to live with the earlier ones, and mum is left to her own devices.  Reluctant to leave her calf initially, she wanders round the yard at night, bellowing non-stop (they don't even seem to pause for breath!) but after a couple of days she will join the rest of the herd when they go back out to pasture after milking, seemingly forgetting she ever had a calf at all.

But the MOST noise you get from the herd is when they are doing something they aren't supposed to.  This morning, they were meant to be in Park field (I think).  Anyway, I knew they were somewhere they weren't supposed to be (a field along) when I could see them on the horizon, all bellowing fit to bust and obviously so delighted they had made a bid for freedom that they had to tell the world about it.  Next Door will not be pleased as it means fence mending is on the agenda, quite apart from getting them all back where they were meant to be.

Meanwhile, I am giving myself a break from walking today and plan to pick more apples and work on the garden.  Have a good weekend.

Keeping busy

A strange old week, for happenings and weather.  Steady rain throughout the day on a couple of days, then an afternoon clear enough to get a walk in.  I have been challenging my lungs with some steep hills.  Normally I would try and avoid the steepest as they are such a struggle, but I need to try and restore myself to pre-illness fitness, and especially so as I had a letter from the Hospital yesterday telling me that I have an appointment the 2nd week in October to present myself for respiratory tests which have to be undertaken WITHOUT having taken any of my asthma medication.  THAT is going to be a challenge and a half, especially as the Nurse I saw mentioned it can be quite distressing.  Not nice to have that to look forward to, but if it means they can say exactly how good/bad my lungs are and perhaps change my medication for something more helpful, then it will be worth it.  (I might add the 2nd half of the respiratory tests are done after medication/large dose of Ventolin).

Anyway, I took myself off the loooooooooooong steep hill towards Brechfa yesterday and although I was puffing like a grampus, I managed it, though it is half an hour's walking uphill all the way before you reach a flat spot.  I had to stop at intervals, but that was to be expected.  Earlier in the week I had walked to a neighbour's house - that had the first part of this same hill on the outward journey and a much steeper hill on the way back, and I managed the latter with just one stop.

Earlier in the week I had to take my husband to A&E as he had damaged his wrist splitting logs (the splitter had hit the log just on the handle and the shock-waves twisted the wrist).  Anyway, after complaining about it aching for a couple of days, a lump suddenly appeared and the pain got worse, so we thought an X-ray might be in order.  It turns out it is just a sprain so he has to rest it (not an easy thing for my husband, who is active and it itching to get all our firewood split for winter.)

We have wandered round the antique shops and charity shops, sorted out our Antiques Fair/Fleamarket goodies (praying for dry weather on Sunday but it's not looking good) .

I keep saying I must get all the apples picked.  It is no good expecting them to get any larger and I am fed up with feeding the Jackdaws and Magpies.  I have taken what windfalls I can and cooked them up, being very frugal and using even the smallest ones in Wartime fashion.  Speaking of which, I am thoroughly enjoying the Wartime Farm programmes, despite them using what are obviously cull cows (due to their udder problems - the Jersey cow's udder was nearly on the round when she walked, so no wonder she had torn half the teat off.  One of the other cows has a mis-shaped udder too.)

A neighbour has Soapwort growing near their home, but not enough to repeat Ruth's hair washing experiment!  I guess it was needs must in those days, though as she said she has some unusual knowledge which many folk wouldn't have had in those days.

Spotted in the paddock . . .

I was just idly looking out of the window across the paddock when I saw Ban sat in the grass.  I called her name.  She ignored me.  I called louder.  I tapped on the glass. Still no response, so I began to drop the sash window, and at the noise she looked at me, and I saw it WASN'T Ban at all, but a tabby with a white bib - just like our late much lamented Timmy, who died about 8 or so years back now.

I went outside and stood by the apple tree at the edge of the paddock.  The stranger looked at me and sank lower in the grass, and lower . . .  I came inside and left him to it - I presume it's a tom, they usually are at this time of year, looking for a territory of their own.

D, who claims to have noticed him first, wants to call him Snarf (from Thundercats).  I have banned him from doing so! Timmy2 (my choice) will probably move on anyway, especially when Tom, the resident stray tom cat who "thinks" we feed him (he is mistaken - we feed Miffy and Amber) will knock 7 bells out of him, I don't doubt, as he does that with any cat he meets.  He is close to being trapped, neutered and rehomed somewhere else . . . 

I have never lived anywhere where so many stray cats turn up in my garden. Like my good friend in America (Morning's Minion), I am sure they are drawn as if by magnet - though in her case they are actively DUMPED).