Month: November 2023

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The continuing bee saga

You may remember our attempts at bee keeping. Apiculture for those in the know.

We are far from in the know. A few You Tube videos and we were thoroughly daunted and reaching for the wine.

Our newly purchased hive was attracting nothing, until we put it in the garage and it became the location of choice. Making getting in the car hazardous.

So… We moved them all out the garage into the common area corner of our complex. As a result of my fear of my dear Alfie pup enraging them into a killing frenzy if they were in the garden.

The entrepid Mandova maintains them somewhat. Making sure water is available and that there are lots of pebbles to sit on so that they don’t drown.

I am learning so much about all the animals you take in and I have to look after Mandova advised me. I’m sure with gratitude for the opportunity.

Just as we did this and beamed at each other proudly as to how they were thriving, some of the gorgeous young mums in the complex invested in and built a playground for the little ones in same common area.

What could go wrong we thought.

Maybe if we tell the mums and kids to stay away from the hive my lovely man suggested.

Have you met a toddler I replied.

So… We have given away our hive and some bee fellow took it and most of the bees away in the dead of night.

Supervised, of course, by our self named Estate Manager, Mandova.

Some anti histamine was required. The less said about that the better.

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What are you trying to say?

I play Wordle every day, do you?

We have a little group and we share our results. It’s my dad’s group actually. We are a motley crew of various age groups, backgrounds and not everyone has English as their first language.

I started to do a little ranking graph and then my dad took over and he does a brilliant job of a daily commentary. Great fun.

I am, alarmingly, totally rubbish. Often last.

Fortunately, I am not particularly competitive or this would bother me.

But, it does interest me that I like to read and write, but I’m dismal at Wordle.

I used to get my lovely man to give me a start word every day, but I’ve abandoned that because I do even worse.

I was pondering on my incompetence when I noticed my lovely man reading one of my blogs. My lovely man lies right next to me, reads all my blogs, closes them and carries on with his life with nary a word. Always.

If I’m looking for affirmation, this is not the place to get it.

So, to my regret as it turns out, I asked him his opinion on what he was reading.

I sometimes struggle to get what you are saying, he advised me, you write strangely.

Not a fan then.

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Yes, there’s a parallel here

I’m reading a book at the moment called ‘The Running Grave’ . Actually I’m listening to it on Audible. What a blessing audible books are.

Anyway, it’s very gripping. It’s about the goings on in a cult.

I’ve not had a lot of experience with cults. I don’t think a cult would tolerate me for too long. I’d either be expelled or locked up in a box until I realised the error of my ways.

It occurred to me, as I gazed across the lawn at the tortoise antics and listened to their bellows, that we are, in fact, housing a cult.

There’s a great deal of free love going on.

Even battered old Tamara is getting her fair share. And honestly, I’ve considered getting her adult diapers.

Incontinence, it appears, is of no consequence. Tamara, the hottie, is rocking it.

I’m considering playing something from Woodstock for them, it seems fitting.

My lovely man, watching this lot, commented ‘inspiring’. And then he gave a little roar.

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Steady on….

When we saved grumpy, ungrateful Tommy the tortoise from a likely end of being a snack over a fire, he patrolled the garden perimeter relentlessly, presumably trying to find a way out.

I worried that he had a family to get back to. He was not saying.

My research indicated that they are generally solitary creatures and that he would be fine.

Still I fretted.

Turns out my friend has an excess of tortoises. This, in fact, is a thing.

So… Timmy and Tammy arrived. I laid out the snacks and did the introductions.

With not so much as a how’s your father, Tommy mounted Tammy.

Oi, she cried, I’m just having a bit of nibble on this cucumber.

I’m not sure there is hashtag me too in the world of tortoises, but if so, Tommy is bloody Harvey Weinstein.

However, it’s cheered him up no end, and he gave me a little wink and nod of approval I swear.

Sadly, as soon as he had finished with dear little Tammy, he set his sights on Timmy and nudged him over onto his back.

This too is a thing. Turn the competition over and be done with them.

So, now we spend our days finding Timmy and rightening the poor little soul.

Timmy has assured me he’s in the friend zone with Tammy, he just needs to persuade Tommy.

Then Tamara arrived. An old, somewhat battered duck is our sweet Tamara. She’s even bigger than Tommy and has old injuries. Looks like she’s been run over by a truck at some point.

We have welcomed her into the bossom of the household and she seems quite happy.

I even had a house built for them. They hate it.

As it turns out, previously suspected asexual Timmy, has fully embraced Tamara.

Mandova called me from my desk to witness the antics.

Rumble in the jungle indeed. Pint size Timmy is vocal in his passion for much larger, Cougar Tamara.

I can tell you for nothing there’s a lot of action in this household.

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What skulduggery is this now

Some time ago a fellow knocked on our door and asked me if he could have the details of my lovely man’s Interpol contact because he had been sold something that turned out to be stolen (and not functioning, which was perhaps the bigger issue).

Darling, I enquired, how on earth do you have Interpol contacts (best I can do is the Douglasdale police station), and what espionage are you involved in?

Also, I continued, this can be added to the alarmingly long list of things NOT disclosed prior to our involvement.

Turns out my lovely man is not connected to Interpol, or New Scotland Yard or any of that ilk.

I’m not sure, he advised our hopeful and somewhat misinformed visitor, that they would much bother with that kind of case. They would probably just arrest you for buying stolen goods.

They would surely be interested he objected, I can finger the thieves.

Well, too tempting isn’t it….

I’m not sure it will matter how confident you are in satisfying the thieves I advised him, they are likely to lock you up.

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On this day….

Do you diarise things? I like to diarise things.

A few years ago, a friend said to me with some exasperation ‘Stop reminding me every year that this is the day I got divorced, you really need to move on’.

No appreciation really.

I only diarise important things mind, I don’t want you to think I’m fanatical.

For example, on this day two years ago, we bought our vacuum cleaner.

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Yes, yes it’s on ice

The other night we had friends around for dinner.

I know this doesn’t sound particularly exciting, other people do it all the time don’t they? Weirdos. But for us, this is epic!

First of all, we don’t do the evenings. Ever really. The other day a friend asked me how my car’s headlights were at night and I said ‘I have no idea, and I’m never likely to find out’. I am tucked up where I should be at night, as is my car.

The other thing is hosting (and cooking), that comes so very easily to some, is alien and stressful to me.

So, the best you gonna get is take aways.

It was Thai last night. Graciously and gratefully received. They are good friends. My good friends have low expectations of me luckily.

If I had attempted to feed them something I had actually cooked, they may not have been as gracious.

My lovely man, as always, such a big help. He is a delight. Doesn’t judge, just collects the take aways, heats up the take aways and gets drinks out. Bless him! Love him the most.

Part of the drinks process is filling up the ice bucket with ice for the drinks tray.

Well! Who would have thought how much excitement this would engender?

Is that an Oude Meester ice bucket my friend cried out suddenly. An original one? If it’s an original one your ice will still be OK in there for three days. The new ones are crap, but this looks like a winner!

We discussed this at some length. Oohing and aaahing.

This is what happens when you get past your 50’s people. Just wait.

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Love me do…

It has been six months since we took in Tommy the tortoise. 

He is not grateful.

Amazingly, he has not died in my care and has made it through winter. There was not a lot of hibernating allowed as I forced love and food on him daily. 

I wish I could say we are soul mates and tripping through the tulips happily, but this is far from the case.

We are still finding our feet with our relationship and he is not as adoring as I might like, truth be told. I am convinced he prefers Mandova over me. Hurtful really. 

But, I like to think we are progressing as I purchase delicacies to nourish him on and try and figure out his likes and dislikes. Loves green lettuce, not purple lettuce, loves watermelon, not as fond of tomatoes and strawberries. 

I have had to point out to my lovely man that giving him my wine soaked strawberries may not be clever. But, what do I know really? He might prefer them like that. 

He leaves his little house to wander the garden quite a bit. Speedier than you would think and very well camouflaged. So, I call for him of course. To no avail sadly. Doesn’t come when I call or answer me. 

We will get there. 

Apparently tortoises make a racket when they are copulating. We are unlikely to copulate, but if he can make a sound, perhaps he can answer my calls. 

I’m not sure how bright tortoises are, but Tommy may be special needs. Wedges himself regularly into places he has to be saved from. So, there is a fair amount of saving of his life. Up until recently, he rewarded me by piddling on me. This may be his kink of course. 

He no longer piddles on me when I pick him up. Does he no longer find me attractive, or is he no longer scared of me? 

So many questions. 

I have convinced myself he gives me a little smile when I scratch his shell. 

I have been advised that he is most likely a Bell’s Hinge Back tortoise. They are apparently more inclined to keep to themselves than, for example Leopard Tortoises. But it was Tommy we saved and Tommy I love!

What I have learnt about Tommy is that he is very consistent. Resting face pissed off really. What he has learnt about me is that I am needy and clingy and like it if you come when I call.

A sanctuary has offered to take him in. Does he need friends / a mate?

I suspect I am not enough for Tommy.