Losing The Thread Again...

And then there's the mud of course...mustn't forget the yard which was once covered in a thick layer of crunchy stones and is now covered in a thick layer of mud...the dogs rush about outside...well, actually they don't rush anymore 'cos they are ancient and have creaky bones and stiff joints...but they still much prefer to walk in the muddy patches and then hobble indoors leaving footprints everywhere...

And our cottage is very plain you know...it isn't quaint...doesn't have interesting corners or twisty stairs...there are no heavy beams held up with a wing and a prayer...it's just three small rooms in a row...with the leaky kitchen built rather hap hazardously on the back of the sitting-room...all the walls bulge mind you...especially the outside wall of the bathroom...that has a very big bulge.

Don't even have a porch in front of the front door filled with scarlet geraniums and a wicker chair placed just so...had one in the first cottage and the geese used to come in and pick the flower heads to shreds...

And we never thought about lowering the ceilings either which was silly 'cos you climb a ladder to paint or swing off the light-bulb and you're suffering from heat exhaustion within minutes...

It isn't pretty round our street either...there aren't any stunning views of beautiful mountains swathed in mist...just a field out the front with an excessive amount of reeds and Tom's new shed full of cattle who choose night-time to bellow their discontent...

The mountains aren't far away...just a couple of miles up the road and on a clear day you can see Ben Bulben and the Caves of Kesh...but you can't see them from here.

If you go in the opposite direction you come to the river...beautiful, slow flowing is the river...famous for the size of the Pike who live in its depths. There are swans and moorhens...otters and mink...kingfishers dart past and in late summer come the dragon-flies...scarlet and iridescent blue and vivid emerald green, they hover over the reed beds and thwart all attempts to photograph them.

The banks on either side of our street are smothered in Spring by primroses and patches of dog violets...then there's the Queen Anne's Lace in great exuberant clumps followed by meadowsweet and wild marjoram...honeysuckle twists around old trees and wild orchids stand proud.

It isn't so much the mud on the street...though we have it there as well...it's the fox and hedgehog poo you have to be wary of...and the truly humongous slugs after rain...slurping across the road in front of you or lying in wait when you're picking a bag of rabbit food...

Family have come to stay and disliked it...not the right kind of fish in the river...not as green as they thought it would be...they'd come in September...shops not opening until ten in the morning...no department stores to browse...the ancient sites were boring...home grown garlic was 'weird'...soda bread tasted odd...couldn't understand the neighbours accent...

Now it's just Teresa and Reuben who come every year twice a year...they walk down the street and stop to chat to Tom...come back with a description of a flower they've seen and can't identify...T will eat a whole soda bread to herself...

Done it again...rambled on so much I've forgotten the original thread...