And to think this is a day of rest...
Having difficulty posting pictures, which is sad. LJ works, but usually falls over if I try to upload anything.
Friday was Cambridge. Too many tourists (hark at me…) and quite warm, but still worth a visit. Massage (mmmmm), new carry-on bag for trip home - I'm stopping 2 nights & 1 day en route so will need more than a clean pair of knickers - and a new pashmina - the old one having inexplicably lost itself on one of my trips. On return to Bury St Eds, rounded it out with a visit with my friend Jean to fix minor knitting blooper. If you are knitter, I had to correct a stitch 32 rows below where I was and I successfully dropped the stitch, caught it, and picked it up again. I felt like the Queen of the World.
At home that evening, one of the chickens was revealed to have a skin tear (probably acquired in some vicious poultry power struggle). A flap of skin was hanging down and so the wound would not likely heal on its own. Much discussion ensued, the consensus being the vet would probably recommend euthanasia and that any treatment would be prohibitively expensive. The end result was DIY chicken surgery. Mr Host was originally going to do the actual sewing, but the young lady lodger who is training to be a nurse was felt to be a more qualified person. She proved this by googling suturing and practicing her stitches on a manilla envelope to ensure the procedure was as quick and painless as possible. The needle and thread were sterilised, hands were washed, and the procedure completed. As I write, the chicken is hale and hearty and shows no signs of fever or loss of appetite. We hold out cautious hopes - that's as much hope as you can have with a chook, which is a creature looking for a new and unexpected way to die from what I can tell. (Through the surgery I remained in the other room, calming the dog, and sending postive thoughts toward the chicken and the surgical team. I provided restorative whisky to the surgeon, nurse, and orderlies on successful completion.)
Saturday was a tear around most of south Suffolk with my friend Kate. We dropped into Viking Stained Glass to talk to Zelda about what we'll make when we do our Introductory course next Friday. Stayed nearly an hour chatting and looking. I've lost my heart to a large emerald green glass vase which is very modestly priced but defeats me about how to get it home in one piece. I already have 5kg of books and several gifts to squeeze in… Then to Corncraft at Monks Eleigh to - finally - buy the celtic cross corn dolly I've been lusting after the past 3 summers. So yet another difficult shipping issue. It will be irradiated on arrival in Australia, but the dollar is so strong compared to the pound that now seemed like a good time to buy it. We also had lunch at the tearooms. Then we went to Kersey, so I could take many fine photos of the wonderful altar panel painting. The ladies of the parish were dispensing tea & cake to celebrate Open Churches Week. Their chocolate and walnut cake was excellent, and we chatted amiably (they like my rainbow hair). Kate was wondering whether I'd lie on the floor again, but I was a bit inhibited by the bystanders. One of the ladies is coming to Melbourne (a nearby suburb and all) in November and will keep her eyes peeled for my highly visible locks. On the way back to Bury, we passed Nowton Park. Kate asked had I ever been there? When I said, "No actually" she plunged across the road and into the turn with a gay disregard for life and limb. As we passed through the gates, she observed: "Perhaps I should have asked whether you WANTED to see Nowton Park before turning?" Then we both laughed long and hard. Nowton Park is a pleasant park and playing fields but not a stately home or anything. Honour satisfied, we went round to Kate's for a cuppa and a chin wag with Bob (her other half, whom I'd not seen to date) and then home for a pizza. The only one I've had on this trip. It was quite disgusting and I loved every bite of it. So did the dog, he got the extra burned bits of the crust.
Sunday (today) was a lie in, then a walk over at Ickworth Park. The sun shone, and the wind blew (rather a lot, actually) and there was an endurance trial on so there were many beautiful horses to be met with on the various paths. Some more suddenly than others. Lovely Daughter and Macc and Cracker weren't there, as they were busy winning ribbons in another horse show to the west of us. Beetroot Soup for lunch in the West Wing Restaurant, then home to do some laundry, some knitting, and some sorting of stuff so I don't have to do all my packing at the last minute. Mr Host made me a shandy with his current home-brew beer. It was a most superior shandy. Hic.
Tomorrow is Burleigh. And so to bed.
Friday was Cambridge. Too many tourists (hark at me…) and quite warm, but still worth a visit. Massage (mmmmm), new carry-on bag for trip home - I'm stopping 2 nights & 1 day en route so will need more than a clean pair of knickers - and a new pashmina - the old one having inexplicably lost itself on one of my trips. On return to Bury St Eds, rounded it out with a visit with my friend Jean to fix minor knitting blooper. If you are knitter, I had to correct a stitch 32 rows below where I was and I successfully dropped the stitch, caught it, and picked it up again. I felt like the Queen of the World.
At home that evening, one of the chickens was revealed to have a skin tear (probably acquired in some vicious poultry power struggle). A flap of skin was hanging down and so the wound would not likely heal on its own. Much discussion ensued, the consensus being the vet would probably recommend euthanasia and that any treatment would be prohibitively expensive. The end result was DIY chicken surgery. Mr Host was originally going to do the actual sewing, but the young lady lodger who is training to be a nurse was felt to be a more qualified person. She proved this by googling suturing and practicing her stitches on a manilla envelope to ensure the procedure was as quick and painless as possible. The needle and thread were sterilised, hands were washed, and the procedure completed. As I write, the chicken is hale and hearty and shows no signs of fever or loss of appetite. We hold out cautious hopes - that's as much hope as you can have with a chook, which is a creature looking for a new and unexpected way to die from what I can tell. (Through the surgery I remained in the other room, calming the dog, and sending postive thoughts toward the chicken and the surgical team. I provided restorative whisky to the surgeon, nurse, and orderlies on successful completion.)
Saturday was a tear around most of south Suffolk with my friend Kate. We dropped into Viking Stained Glass to talk to Zelda about what we'll make when we do our Introductory course next Friday. Stayed nearly an hour chatting and looking. I've lost my heart to a large emerald green glass vase which is very modestly priced but defeats me about how to get it home in one piece. I already have 5kg of books and several gifts to squeeze in… Then to Corncraft at Monks Eleigh to - finally - buy the celtic cross corn dolly I've been lusting after the past 3 summers. So yet another difficult shipping issue. It will be irradiated on arrival in Australia, but the dollar is so strong compared to the pound that now seemed like a good time to buy it. We also had lunch at the tearooms. Then we went to Kersey, so I could take many fine photos of the wonderful altar panel painting. The ladies of the parish were dispensing tea & cake to celebrate Open Churches Week. Their chocolate and walnut cake was excellent, and we chatted amiably (they like my rainbow hair). Kate was wondering whether I'd lie on the floor again, but I was a bit inhibited by the bystanders. One of the ladies is coming to Melbourne (a nearby suburb and all) in November and will keep her eyes peeled for my highly visible locks. On the way back to Bury, we passed Nowton Park. Kate asked had I ever been there? When I said, "No actually" she plunged across the road and into the turn with a gay disregard for life and limb. As we passed through the gates, she observed: "Perhaps I should have asked whether you WANTED to see Nowton Park before turning?" Then we both laughed long and hard. Nowton Park is a pleasant park and playing fields but not a stately home or anything. Honour satisfied, we went round to Kate's for a cuppa and a chin wag with Bob (her other half, whom I'd not seen to date) and then home for a pizza. The only one I've had on this trip. It was quite disgusting and I loved every bite of it. So did the dog, he got the extra burned bits of the crust.
Sunday (today) was a lie in, then a walk over at Ickworth Park. The sun shone, and the wind blew (rather a lot, actually) and there was an endurance trial on so there were many beautiful horses to be met with on the various paths. Some more suddenly than others. Lovely Daughter and Macc and Cracker weren't there, as they were busy winning ribbons in another horse show to the west of us. Beetroot Soup for lunch in the West Wing Restaurant, then home to do some laundry, some knitting, and some sorting of stuff so I don't have to do all my packing at the last minute. Mr Host made me a shandy with his current home-brew beer. It was a most superior shandy. Hic.
Tomorrow is Burleigh. And so to bed.