rat – derrickjknight

A Knight’s Tale (77: “As Long As I Can Have That One”)

Within two years of qualifying as a Social Worker at Croydon I began supervising students on the course. These were one at a time until one of the established tutees gave up to become a Director of Social Services elsewhere. in mid-course. By this time I was conducting the weekly Experiential Group designed to facilitate learning what it was like to be a member of a group and how roles were established. Wolf asked me to take on another student. I agreed, as long as I was able to choose one who I knew from the group. Pointing out the name of Carole, who was to become a lifelong friend, I said “As long as I can have that one”.

I should explain that these tasks were undertaken in time I that, to some extent, balanced out considerable extra hours worked as first a Deputy, then as Area Manager in Westminster.

Later, when I had a vacancy for a Team Leader and Carole was ready for the post, she applied for and gained, a post heading the team in which she had been a student.

Rats, as we well know, can be friendly and loyal pets. This is not necessarily the case. When we lived in Soho’s Chinatown the story was rather different. In London you are said to be never more that a few metres from a rat. In this area, where the sun never sets on restaurants, it was more likely centimetres. We had very thick window frames and one very stout window box. We wondered what could be gnawing its way through this seasoned timber. Our friend Carole Littlechild, one night provided the answer. Asleep on the floor in the sitting room she had been disturbed by the patter of tiny footsteps. Across her face. It was indeed a rat.

Carole has, for most of her life, owned a horse. The one we knew was April. This was the only time I ever became a fleeting equestrian.

There is no doubt that Jessica, Carole, Matthew, Becky, and Michael all had better seats than I.

Reflecting Over The Best Part Of Half A Century

Towards the end of yesterday afternoon Giles collected me from home and drove me to the bird hide at Milford on Sea. It is his task to lock up the accessible public facility at 5 p.m. or dusk, whichever is earlier. We spent a happy hour in each other’s company as I benefitted from my friend’s avian knowledge.

Alongside the stilted structure bird feeders hang from trees. A couple of sleek, well-fed, rats crouched poised to scoop up spillage. Note the hind toes clinging to a fallen branch for purchase while tiny hands clutch the spoils.

In the distance, against the backdrop of holiday homes, a variety of gulls and swans skimmed over the stream reflecting the bordering reeds.

Groups of swans sought rest, relaxation, and sustenance on the soggy terrain.

A pair of mallards dozed among the tufts; nearby a Brent goose investigated dining options.

I had forgotten my specs, so relied upon Giles to spot and direct me to this godwit wading amongst the teal.

I have John Knifton to thank for my being able to identify the teal from the luminous green flashes on their sunlit plumage.

When it was time for us to depart, Giles scaled a wooden fence and went Wombling to gather rubbish blown into the bird sanctuary.

It is the best part of half a century since I last photographed my friend reflected upside down in his glass chessboard while we were playing a game in 1973.

Yesterday evening Jackie produced perfect roast chicken, potatoes, and parsnips; Yorkshire pudding; sage and onion stuffing; crunchy carrots and broccoli; and rich red cabbage.

Much of today was spent on culling photographs and putting this post together.

This evening we dined at The Royal Oak. We both enjoyed crisp battered haddock; chunky chips with intact peel; garden peas that, like lemmings, were dead set on diving off the plate and rolling off the table; and onion rings containing slices of onion rather than the usual mush. We shared a carafe of most potable Pino Grigio.

Rasputin

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Shed by trees and strewn around the garden’s beds and paths, last winter’s twigs would have filled a mattress.

Those I gathered this afternoon certainly occupied the best part of one of our orange bags of ‘green’ refuse destined for the recycling centre.

Father Christmas was generous with hose this year. Even so, my sock drawer gradually became surprisingly full to overflowing. Jackie’s, however, was rapidly emptying. Eventually she realised that I had been mistaking hers for mine.

I really have no claim on these.

Also shown here are the cast iron fireplace and the wooden surround still awaiting final fixing. The copper fender was a present from our son and daughter, so must be accommodated. The blue tiles were already in situ. Whilst the laminate flooring is quite good quality, if you like that sort of thing, it has been appallingly fitted and we really would like to see the back of it. That, of course, would require lifting it to reveal what we hope will be the original floorboards. With any luck these will not have been butchered. Fingers crossed.

Readers will remember that, hands flattened on our kitchen window, bewhiskered nose twitching, an amiable rat peered longingly at our Christmas dinner. Some time after that Jackie discovered holes in the birdseed on the utility room shelf; later still, she heard rustling. It was time to put down bait. On a daily basis, the poisoned seed was disturbed in the morning. Either our visitor deserved the name Rasputin allocated to him, or his whole family had followed, or come to look for him when he didn’t return.

We were rather sad when, today, we discovered an undisturbed pile of bait.

This evening we dined on starters of prawn toasts and spring rolls from Tesco; Jackie’s sublime egg fried rice; and Lidl’s tender oriental pork. Jackie drank Hoegaarden and I drank San Adres Chilean merlot.

A Conundrum 2

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We took it easy today. Prompted by today’s post from thebikinggardener I wandered around the garden to see how our Hellebores are doing.

Some way behind Geoff’s, ours are coming through.

Many primulas have so far survived the winter.

The shattered bits of cherub Jackie found in the undergrowth a couple of years ago have gained a fine coating of moss.

The remnants of honesty, hollowing ovals on stems, blends well with the weeping birch bark.

The parent viburnum Bontantense and its two children are blooming well. One joins with a leycesteria in beginning to mask Aaron’s new fencing.

Alongside the winter flowering cherry

and beneath the crab apples, a blackbird dropped down for a change of diet.

This pieris takes my mind off the fact that the grass needs cutting.

A few youthful pink cheeks survive amid those ageing, wrinkly, and skeletal ones of this hydrangea.

Finally, the conundrum. Who has dragged a clutch of eggshells from the compost heap across the New Bed? Well, we did spot a rat, hands and nose pressed to the pane, peering, like Tiny Tim, through our window when we ate our Christmas dinner.

Just before 4.30 p.m., we dashed out to Barton on Sea to watch the sun sink into Christchurch Bay. I did not stage the photograph of the woman kicking it back up into the sky.

A while later we dined at Lal Quilla. My choice was lamb shatkora massala; Jackie’s prawn sallee. We shared an egg paratha, mushroom rice, and sag bahji; and both drank Kingfisher.

Before And After: The Patio

Once more, wet and warm described the day’s weather.

Although we have created a gravelled patio at the south end of the garden, there always was a designed one alongside the back of the house. This, in April 2014 was full of weeds and the surrounding areas were overgrown. Our project is a continuing one, so will no doubt evolve still further, but The Patio is the final section, prepared today, for the garden album.

On 7th May 2014 the area was dominated by next door’s photinia and lonicera hedge; and our own ficus and poplar.

By 13th, we had weeded the cracks between the paving stones, but not yet disguised the blue painted Butler sink;

by 27th, our trees were trimmed;

and by 28th the sink was surrounded by rocks on shingle, and we had refurbished the boundary with our neighbours, using a length of ornamental wrought iron and a useless door from inside the house.

This corner was festooned with flowers on 14th August when Scooby had a look round, then went on the prowl.

After an unusually cold August, it wasn’t until September 14th that we enjoyed afternoon tea there with Mum and Elizabeth. Note that the side gate is still fixed and covered with trellis.

The rocks around the sink, on 1st January 2015, provided useful cover for a rat attracted by the bird food.

We tried to maintain the ficus with heavy pruning, but eventually decided it had to go. I finally removed its roots on 18th September.

The next day Jackie planted up the vacant space in which pansies were blooming on 12th October.

This afternoon I printed and pasted the Gazebo Path section into the album.

Chicken thighs baked in West Indian chili sauce; special fried rice; and mange touts, cob corn, and carrots were produced by Jackie for our dinner this evening. A selection of Tesco’s cream cakes was to follow. Jackie drank Hoegaarden, and I drank Reserve des Tugets Madiran 2012.

Picnic At Ratty Rock

The year 2015 was ushered in by a warm, overcast morning. Food laid out on a table for tits and robins has been rapidly consumed over the last few days. Early on, Becky watched a small rat, with the aid of its tail wound around the table legs, speeding up to the top and availing itself of the goodies. She has also followed the rodent’s route to and from the jungle next door where it obviously lives. Rats apparently have no bladder control mechanism, so leak a tempting trail as they run. That is clearly why Scooby has found the area so intriguing.

Later, having set out some tasty tit-bits on the gravel in front of the entrance to the rat’s tunnel, our daughter lay in wait with the camera pressed against the sitting room window. She took 50 more fascinating shots from which it was very difficult for me to select the following pictorial narrative of our visitor’s comings and goings:

Where there is one such charming little creature there are no doubt many more.

This is really Becky’s post, because she chose the title as well. I think she had a film title in mind.

I ambled down to the Shorefield stream and back. Traffic reflectors and discarded food and drinks containers gave touches of brightness to the gloomy verges and hedgerows, and a headless fish flashed on the far bank.

Not realising I had photographed it earlier, Ian, on a later walk, brought back the trophy beer glass. When he found it it had contained a lolly stick.

Whenever we’ve had the opportunity over the last three days, we have continued with ‘Downton Abbey’, and have now reached the end of the second series.

Jackie’s sausage casserole, on which we dined this evening, was made with Hobgoblin beer from a five litre cask Ian had given me for Christmas. Accompanied by swede and potato mash, carrots, and cabbage, it was as scrumptious as usual. I drank Cotes du Rhones Villages 2013, and Ian drank coke.