Kelly Marks, Your Country Needs You!

I have had a couple of very busy, but productive days. I have ordered the book 'Perfect Manners' by Kelly Marks. Lots of people say it's really good and it really helped their relationship with their horse, so I am going to read it and see what I can do about Max. If I sell him I could be selling a better behaved horse, if it works, and if it transforms him, I'll keep him! So I win either way. I have loitered by the letterbox, like a faithful spaniel, but it hasn't arrived yet. I can't wait to start reading it.
I've nearly finished my cross stitch for the Christening. It's very sweet. I am tempted to show you now, but I think I'd better wait and show you the finished item. I am having a mental block making the christening card. I want it to be silver and white and pink, but I'm playing around with lots of pieces before I commit to anything.
The significance of this is that Abby rang me last week and asked me if I would make all the invitations, place cards etc for her wedding in July. I am thrilled. My first commission! And the point is, she wants pink, silver and white for her colour scheme. I must tell you, that at the moment, I'm not very keen on it, but I need to go to Hobbycraft again and see what they've got and I'm sure I'll be inspired. I just need a piece of silver card or paper to finish this christening card off, then I'll be happy.
I did the ironing yesterday and remembered to look for the crafting TV channel and found it on Sky. I stood there, absolutely riveted by this woman demonstrating card making. It's a bit like QVC though, and I tried not to laugh, but I was very inspired by the cards she made. Before I knew it I'd been ironing for an hour and a half and had done every single thing, so it must have been good. It's thrilling to see other people who want to stroke bits of paper every bit as much as I do! I am not alone with my affliction.
I made another cake with my new tins. This time I went for broke and used five eggs and all the corresponding ingredients, and out came the most enormous sponge cake I've ever seen. I think I must have always over estimated the capability of the ingredients and thought that even if you put in very little of everything, a big cake should come out. Why does no one explain that if you want a whopping great cake, you have to put in loads of ingredients? It's so simple. I didn't have any jam, so I had to make icing and put that in the middle. It was so tall it wouldn't fit in my cake tin, so I have had to put it in the bread container instead! Yummy.
(Watch this space for lemon meringue pie, coming soon!)
I sat in my kitchen, sewing away, while the cake did its thing in the oven, and was overwhelmed by a sense of peace and 'rightness' and 'all is well with the world', even though it had started snowing. I felt very at home in this little cottage in the middle of nowhere.
And, the most thrilling thing of all, I was reading Fiona's lovely blog over at Marmalade Rose where I was supposed to be looking at a sofa, which I did, but my eyes kept straying to her beautiful pink and white polka dot tablecloth. It's in oilcloth, which I am desperate for. I left a message asking where she'd bought it and she left me the website. I was perusing there yesterday, to be honest, a little taken aback at the variety. You know some shops you go in and you want to buy one of everything? This was like that. I have narrowed it down to a beige table cloth with dots, and am about to go back and order it, having gone over the measurements with Mr O last night, who knows about these things. He can look at an object and tell you what it measures to within an inch - extraordinary.
And once again we have snow. Only about an inch, but it hasn't stopped since lunchtime, so we'll see what we've got in the morning.
I turned Barnaby out this morning, who fortunately walked forward to a pile of haylage in the field, as I found to my consternation, that the string of the electric fence was trapped in the ice, so I couldn't hook the gate closed. I ran to the metal gate, and found that too had been buried in ice, and it took a great deal of frantic stamping about at the base of the gate before I could release it and close it before Barnaby decided to go for a stroll round the farm. Phew. I must tell you as well, that on Sunday when we went to get the horses in, Mr O had Barnaby and I had Max, with the intention of going back for Zak, who had no such intentions at all, and leapt gracefully over the electric fence and walked in with us! Oh well.

Unmitigated Disaster

It was Max's birthday yesterday. He is 13. I have had him for six years. Not bad going, considering.
We got up yesterday and went for a walk up the road to see if it was icy, before getting the lorry out. It just had a thick frost on it, so we decided we were going to the TREC competition.
I'd better quickly explain what TREC is:
It was set up in France as a way of examining candidates for taking out rides in trekking centres, but it developed into a competition, which is now quite big in England.
The competition has three phases. The first one is an orienteering section. Obviously if you were leading out a trek you wouldn't want to get lost, so this is the test for that. You go and copy the master map onto your map and set off along the route. Sometimes there may be obstacles to complete along the way, for which you get points. At level one you're looking at a distance of 5-7 miles, and you are timed.
The next section is called Control of Paces. This is to test that you have control of your horse at all times. A track is laid out. You have to do the fastest walk you can manage without changing pace (ie breaking into trot) and the slowest canter (again without going back to trot). This is also timed.
Then comes the obstacle phase. A variety of obstacles are laid out, in a field or maybe using a cross country course. There may be a gate that you have to open without dismounting or letting go of the rope, a bridge to lead your horse over, riding under low branches etc, all things to simulate natural obstacles that you might encounter on a hack.
Yesterday we didn't have the orienteering phase, fortunately, just the control of paces and the obstacle course.
All the horses were walking up and down calmly, waiting their turn to go in the arena. Mr O was on before me, so he was warming Barnaby up. Max was snorting and staring at everything. I got on him and he kept trying to drag me back to the lorry. It took all my strength to keep him where he was. I did the gate obstacle, which was outside the arena, while John was inside. Max actually did it quite well, without taking my leg off against the gate post, which is unusual!
I got off after that as Max was still straining to go back to the lorry. I don't know if he thought Barnaby was there, or what was going on in his head, really.
So I led him into the arena when it was my turn, and took our little mounting block with me, but Max kept spinning in circles and wouldn't stand still. In the end a woman very kindly offered to hold him for me, and I mounted from the ground.
The canter test was first. I wanted to warm him up and establish canter before going down the track, but I was told not to go near any of the other obstacles, so I just about managed to get him going in a tiny space, and he set off quite well, but in the far corner were some strange bins like enormous dustbins, so he spooked at those and went back to trot, before we'd reached the end of the timed section. Mr O was told he could use all of the space in the arena, and didn't have to start until he felt he'd established a canter he was happy with!
Then we got to the first obstacle, which was a bridge. I was fully expecting to hop off and lead him across it, when the judge said, "No, you have to ride him across it." Grrr. Max was having none of it and kept backing off. I asked the judge if she could move out of the way, in case Max swung round and bumped into her, which he is very likely to do, but she just stood there. I was so put off by this I didn't want to risk it and had to go onto the next obstacle. It was two poles on the floor, a horse's width apart. I had to walk in, halt and rein back. Last time I did this Max was immaculate. This time he kicked a pole.
We had a test where we had to get off, leave the horse to stand within a circle painted on the ground for 10 seconds. Max decided that was his cue to head for the door.
After that was a little corridor on the floor, and I had to lead Max along it, with me in front of him, which we did successfully.
Then we had to walk into a square painted on the floor, where there was a mounting block and get on the horse within 15 seconds. I'm not sure if I did it actually, they never said.
The weaving poles were next, which were perfect, BUT we only walked and found out afterwards that you got more points if you trotted and even more points if you cantered, but nobody told us at the beginning, which I think is a bit of a cheek.
Then we had the low branches test. As I walked up to it, on foot, I touched one of the poles with my hat. There is no way on this earth Max would have gone under that. If I'd pulled him, he would probably have had a fit and smashed the thing to pieces, killing innocent (and ignorant) bystanders, so I lost all my points on that, too.
After that I ran out of time to complete the obstacles, and had to finish with my walk test. Max walked really well, but remember, you are not allowed to change your pace. A few yards from the end Max stood stock still and decided to have a poo, so I lost all my marks again. I bet that's never happened in the history of TREC.
The last time I did a TREC competition, I had such fun, laughed my head off and really enjoyed it, but this was all so strict and serious, it was like doing the manouvres in your drivng test and I didn't enjoy it at all. I think the organisers could have relaxed a bit, as if that was your first experience of TREC, you wouldn't go again. I was so cross with Max's attitude, too, he was totally bonkers. Barnaby did everything and was in 3rd place by the time we left, but I don't know what the end result is. I think Max saw the indoor arena and thought he was going to show jump, so psyched himself up for jumping, then when he got into the arena and it wasn't jumping at all, just a bunch of scary objects, it totally blew his mind.
So folks, I am back to selling Max. I am so fed up with dithering that I have phoned Lorna and asked her to put feelers out. I am also fed up with people saying, "Oh you can't sell Max, he's lovely!' because the fact is, he isn't lovely. I know he's cute to look at, but he isn't a dog, he's meant to be ridden, and some days he's an absolute nightmare.
What are the two things you never want from a horse? Rearing and bolting. Max does at least one of those, with style.
Mr O and I have realised that the crux of the matter is this: Riding is supposed to be a pleasure, right? When I ride Max, I hack out, and I am always relieved to be home. Even in the summer, when he is calmer. When I ride Barnaby, I get to the turning for home, and I think, 'Just five more minutes' and add another leg onto the journey because I'm enjoying it so much I don't want to come home. And you feel like you're Joan of Arc on a magnificent white charger at the same time. That's how it's supposed to be. Riding Crispin was like that.
So I am going to play with Max and enjoy him as best I can until he is sold. I really thought we were getting somewhere last year when he was hacking out quite calmly. At Lorna's I could hardly get him to go out on his own. He seemed to really understand, and be happy with, what I required, which was really very little, but now he seems to be back to square one and I have to start again.
I am going to put a couple of adverts up, in Thomas Irving and Stable Mates and see what happens. It's not fair on him either, I don't think, as the thing he does best is jumping, and I don't want to do it any more. He excels at it, especially cross country, and jumps like a stag. So that's that. My mind is finally and firmly made up.

The Cure-All

Finally, I've found it, the cure for all my ills. It's scientifically proven and medically tested. You don't even need a prescription. What is it, this amazing wonder drug? It's commonly known as ...

a lay in!

yes, I've taken one yesterday and one today, and I feel like a completely different person. Who would have guessed the powerful, healing properties of

sleeeeep

I haven't had a lay-in since the horses came in in November, I've just mucked out, ridden, shopped, cooked, cleaned and ironed ever since, and I think I've been suffering from exhaustion. It's amazing what a bit of sleep can do to restore you physically and mentally, isn't it? That's why the 'I'm selling Max,' scenarios have crept in again. It all got a bit too much. Sorry if I've been a bit down. I knew I had to do something so I asked Missis if she would turn my horses out along with her own, and I would 'appear' when I was ready. What a blessing. This may have to be a regular thing, to get me through the rest of the winter.
It's also about habit and routine, I think. We did so little riding over Christmas because of the snow, that I've just got used to mucking out and going indoors, and I've had to make myself get back into the horsey habit. I have to say, a lack of facilities and having no one to motivate me doesn't help, either.
So I lunged Max on Wednesday, as you know, and rode him yesterday. The reduction in feed really seems to be working, and he was a lot calmer. He had a good look round at things, but didn't do anything dramatic, and worked extremely well in the school, which cheered me up enormously.
I've been busy indoors, too. I've finally finished the little cross stitch bear for Mr O's valentine's card, which looks like this:





The back stitch took ages, but was well worth it. I'll add some wording on the front and inside, but not too much, to detract from the picture. Can't wait to give it to him. I am also well under way with the christening present, but very nervous about the actual sewing part, but maybe I can do it, we'll see.
I set myself a challenge this month, to make a banoffee pie, as I had it in a cafe last year and thought it was gorgous. As I was eating it I thought, 'surely I could make this?' and so set myself a challenge to make one this month. I consulted the oracle (my sister Lorayne, maker of all things nice!) and she said to go on the Nestle website, where a fool-proof recipe awaited me. (What's she trying to say?!)
So I ordered all the ingredients in my weekly shop, and yesterday I set to.
First I had to make a biscuit base like you do for cheese cake, with melted butter stirred in. I have seen recipes where you make a pastry base and bake it blind, but phooey to that.
So here's my base.





You have to put it in the fridge to chill for twenty minutes (while you do some cross stitch or something).
Then you open a tin of Carnation caramel and pour it on. (It was more blob it on, but still). Yes I have also seen recipes where you heat normal condensed milk with brown sugar, but time is of the essence here. Spread the caramel out with a palette knife.
Then whisk up whipped cream, fold in sliced banana and spread that on top of the caramel. (Stop drooling!) Then decorate with sliced banana and a dusting of cocoa powder. Lorayne said she just slices some bananas and puts them on the caramel base, then puts the whipped cream on top, but I've got to tell you, I think this version is much nicer. This is how it looked in the end:




Let's just say we had a fairly big slice each! That's all I'm saying. It was gorgous, though. In fact the rest of it is still in the fridge and I can hear it calling me - caaallling. Back soon.

Let There Be Light!

So much has been going on, I've hardly had time to tell you all the other little bits...
Last Wednesday I went out as usual to give the horses their breakfast. The stable lights were on, which means Missis is already up and has fed the horses. When I looked around, the breakfast feeds were still in place, and the outside door was closed. I had a dreadful feeling then, that when I'd checked on the horses the night before, I must have left the light on all night. Having a brainwave, I text Mr O, 'Were the stable lights on when you left for work?'
'No,' he replied.
So I went out to the barn to look for Missis. No sign of her. I dished out the breakfasts and carried on doing the chores, finding it all very peculiar.
Then on Saturday, Mr O went to feed round and the light was on again. He looked at Lindy. Lindy grinned back. He had turned the light on with his nose, as the new light switch is at the back of his stable!
He'd done it again yesterday. I think he hears Mr O leave for work, and that's his cue to turn the light on. All the other horses were blinking at me as I appeared, "Crikey that's bright! Is it time to get up?" Poor things, but very funny. The only answer is to move the light switch I suppose.
I was standing in the stables, coffeehousing with Mr O on Saturday, when I felt a bite on my finger. Marjory (the chicken) had leapt up and pecked me on the finger! Cheeky thing. We decided they must be hungry, and gave them some extra corn on the stable floor, which they scoffed. Today, when I mucked Max out, there was an egg nestling in the straw. A thankyou present?
It's been very windy today, but I was determined to lunge Max, so I turned Zak and Barnaby out, and gave Max a good groom, then put his chambon on and all the other paraphenalia. He walked out very nicely with me to the lunge ring, walking right past a feed sack that had blown off the burning pile, and not batting an eyelid, which is unusually brave.
A chambon is a device that you put on a horse while lungeing, that according to my book, 'makes the horse work long and low.' Long and low? He had his head between his knees while bucking and cantering. You can't get much lower than that, can you?
I'm hoping that that will have worked some energy off, then if I don't replace the energy with loads more food, he should start to calm down, shouldn't he? Here's hoping...

A Brief History of Bolting

As you know, Max has been very lively on the few occasions I've been able to ride him since Christmas. Now I know he is just happy and excited to be out, but on Saturday, after the bucking in the road incident, by the time I came back I was ready to sell him! I'm glad I've kept this blog now, because it clearly shows that as the winter has progressed, Max has become more and more energetic, verging on dangerous. I am so scared after the bolting scenario last year, and really don't want a repeat performance. It was quite a strange weekend all round, what with the car crashes and everything, and I didn't feel very well.
I do want to keep Max, but I don't want a horse I can only ride six months of the year. What's the point of that? The truth is, last year isn't the only time he's bolted with me. He does it a couple of times every spring. Up until now he's always gone loopy in a wide open space. I am not phased at being bolted with. I know the procedure. You have to get hold of one rein and turn the horse in a circle that gradually gets smaller and smaller until they have to stop. And that does work, if you're in a big space.
The problem has been that when it happened the first time Mr O thought I was just going for a jolly gallop and galloped alongside me instead of standing still waiting for me to sort it out! This made Max go even faster, as you can imagine.
Once he did it in a big field at the back of Lindrick Golf Course (still my favourite ride to this day). When we got home Mr O said, "Don't you ever cut me up like that again!" and I didn't know what he meant until I sat and thought about it later. I am right-handed, so if Max bolts, naturally I haul like billy-o on the right rein, and gradually turn him and slow him down. But this time Mr O came steaming up on my right-hand side. I was trying to overtake him so I could begin the turn, but the faster Max went, the faster Barnaby went to keep up. I looked ahead and we were rapidly running out of field, with a woods up ahead. In the end I actually kicked Max on and cut across in front of Barnaby so I'd have some room to begin the slowing down session, and that's what annoyed Mr O, but desperate needs...
One time, not long before we left Lorna's I decided to do the Gateford ride. You go across some lovely fields, through a housing estate and back through some more fields on the way home, all in a giant rectangle.
We'd gone so far and came to a maize field. The maize was really high, so I decided to turn round and come home, when Max suddenly plunged in and started cantering through it, which was up above our heads. Then the cantering changed to galloping, as we careered blindy through the crop. The maize stalks were so thick and strong, that eventually they pushed my feet out of the stirrups. That was the beginning of the end really, as seconds later my entire legs were forced backwards and upwards, until I was laying horizontally on top of the saddle, still holding onto the reins, legs straight out behind me as though surf boarding. It was only a matter of time before I fell off and Max disappeared, crashing through the corn, out of sight. I looked about me as I got my breath back, and found his whole stirrup leather lying on the ground next to me. I got to my feet, brushed myself down, and set off in pursuit.
Fortunately, a brave man had caught Max as he'd stopped to eat grass on Gateford Common, stuffing his face as usual, totally unphased by his ordeal and not in the least bit concerned as to my welfare. We had to walk all the way round to get home, as we obviously couldn't go back the way we'd just come. Not the best ride I've ever had. Mr O had come out to look for us as we were so late getting back.
The trouble with the bolting episode last January is that it wasn't in a field, it was on a tiny grass track with a high hedge on either side, and the only way was forwards. It was an experience I'll never forget.
So, due to being extremely tired, nervous and unmotivated, I made the decision to sell Max. If you're like me, you decide 'one more fall and I'll have to quit.' I said that to myself on Saturday. Then I thought, 'No Jane, that was your last fall. Enough is enough.'
I'm going to have to tell you something else. As you know, Mr O has only been riding for about four years, and he's always been very gung-ho. He does things and jumps things that other people walk away from. Some of this is guts. Some of it is stupidity. I can remember hiring a cross country course and went with Mr O, my friend Leanne and her sister. We came to the water jump. Us three girls looked at it and could see how muddy it was in the bottom. We decided not to bother with it. Mr O decided it was 'the thing to do' and made Barnaby jump in, which he did, but promptly got stuck in the mud and threw Mr O onto the bank in his efforts to scramble out. Serves him right I'm afraid.
So I've got to be honest and admit that hacking out with Mr O makes me nervous, due to his lack of fear, and sometime lack of wisdom. He will make you ride through, over and round things you really don't want to. So when this man stopped outside our house on Saturday morning and warned us not to go where it was icy, Mr O decided to ignore him and keep going anyway. That put the fear of God into me and made me not want to go on a hack at all, so I was nervous before we even set off and looking for an excuse to come home. It's only because I went on and on about it that Mr O decided not to come up Alton Hill and just come back the way we went.

Anyway, that's by the by.

I was talking to my friend Amanda on Sunday night and she suggested I cut Max's feed right back. I told her what he was having, which I had increased while it was snowing, and she said it's too much, especially as he has Mollichop, which is full of sugar. He's always had a lot of feed in past winters because I've done indoor showjumping and been hunting, which requires masses of energy from the horse. Max is only 14.2hh though, and a cob, which means he's what you call a 'good-doer'. It's a polite term for 'a greedy little bugger', which I'm afraid he is.
So last night I watched him mosey through his tea bucket. "Carrots? Check. Mix? Check (not realising I've cut it by half) Chop? Hang on a minute, where's me chop?!"
I'm going to lunge him tomorrow, then get on him and ride him in the school and see what he's like. I sincerely hope, for his sake, that he's calm, as he was calm in the school last week, then very naughty on the way home (do you remember I got off and walked the last bit?)
To be continued...

An Incredible Day

It seemed like quite a nice morning, so we tacked Max and Barnaby up, and walked out to the gate. A strange old man pulled up in a white van with ladders on the top and told us very firmly not to ride down Alton Hill as it was treacherous and cars were sliding on it. "Thankyou," we said and went on our way, deciding what to do, as that had been the way we'd intended to go.
We turned left and had only gone on a few paces when we heard a crash behind us. Max trotted on a bit, obviously startled, but didn't go mad. We looked behind us, and a car had crashed into the dry stone wall on the main road, where we had just come from. I turned Max round and rode back towards the car. A woman got out, and I shouted across to see if she was okay, and she said she was fine.
We decided they were, and continued with our ride.
Max was a bit of a prune, and I was very nervous because of the ice on the road, and I was dreading the black dog coming out of Flag House, as I didn't want Max to spook, but it was all fine. We decided just to go down to the bottom, turn round and come back up again, but as we went into trot, Max was being very energetic, and was bucking on the road. I find this totally offputting at the moment, and I knew if we turned round and trotted up the road he'd be off. More of this later.
So I got off and we walked back up the road together, stopping every so often for me to catch my breath (it's all up hill). Then as we got to the last stretch, Mr O said, "I think there's been another accident. That helicopter's really low." I couldn't see a helicopter at all, and didn't know what he was talking about.
But sure enough, as we approached the junction, we could see two fire engines, an ambulance, and the helicopter in the field, plus several other cars. We came up and a fireman approached us. He said, "Do you think you'll be safe walking these horses past all these engines, cutters and people?"
"Oh yes," we said.
"Well I'm not allowing it!" he said.
So we stood on the verge for half an hour while they cut someone out of the car and put them in the helicopter. I feel so awful for those poor people. But if that man hadn't warned us not to go up the hill, this would have happened right in front of us, or may have spun off and actually hit us. Protection from God?
Then the bit I wasn't looking forward to, when the rotor blades of the helicopter started spinning, then that incredible noise as the engine kicked in, and the whole thing rose gently up in the air, went backwards for a while, and then set off, presumably to Queens Med in Nottingham. Max and Barnaby stood there, chewing the cud, not in the least bit bothered. But, let's be honest, they've seen it all before once or twice (Mr O got helicoptered off to hospital after a hunting accident a couple of years ago). I was very proud of Max for not being scared.
The fireman came back and said we could go through, as the ambulance pulled away. Suddenly the car was revealed, on its side, up against the wall. We managed to walk the horses past the car and the fire engines and straight into the farm gate. Home at last. All a bit scary and strenuous.
This had put quite a delay on our activities and Mr O said we couldn't really go to Hobbycraft. We rang Lisa, but there was no answer, so we got cracking on the mucking out. Zak was totally sweated up as he'd been in on his own once Missis had turned her horses out. The original plan had been to come back, turn Max and Barnaby out and then for Mr O to ride Zak, but all that was scuppered by the delay. We dried him off and turned him out, where he went mental, galloping up and down (and looking rather stunning to be honest!) and rolling, which set everybody else off and they were all filthy when they came in.
So eventually we were able to set off and pick Lisa up, then whizzed off to Sheffield, with Caelan in the car seat.
I dispatched Mr O to a different shop so Lisa and I could concentrate. She was so helpful, as I took along the book which has the picture of what I want to make for the christening of our niece's baby girl in March. She helped find the aida fabric and all the colours I would need which we had to translate from the DMC number to the Anchor number. I also bought some pink gingham which is the background for the cross stitch (I'll show you when it's made and all will become clear). She bought a stunning kit that is the wording to Footprints with a beautiful background of a beach. It'll take ages to do, but will be well worth it.
I also bought my cardmaking magazine, which had a free set of beautiful papers with it, plus some blank cards and some plain paper and card. I've also bought some fabulous vellum to play with, so we'll see. Loads to inspire me, anyway.
We dropped Lisa off and came home, and I got in the shower as I'd booked us a table at the village pub for a Burns Night celebration. I switched the iron on and all the power went off. Marvellous. Mr O and Pongo spent ages walking backwards and forwards, checking everything, trying things out and discussing wire and fuses. By the time it was fixed we'd missed our slot and I had to ring and let them know we couldn't make it. Bit gutted really, but not the end of the world I suppose. We got a Chinese takeaway instead. It's not haggis, but it'll have to do.

Spike The Cat

It has poured with rain all day today. Missis kept her horses in. Barnaby looked at me as if to say, "Don't even go there," so I turned my boys out. Zak and Max were joshing each other as they ran up the field side by side. Then they both stopped suddenly, saying, 'Where the heck's Barnaby?' He was behind them, scoffing as much haylage as possible before anyone noticed. By ten o'clock, Barnaby was looking over the gate, saying, "For goodness sake woman, when are we coming in?"
Yesterday I accidentally trod on Tessa's foot as she was behind me when I came out of the stables backwards, pulling a full-up wheelbarrow. She lay on the sofa with me later on, and was struggling to get up, pawing away on the leather, until I realised I was laying on her tail and trapping her.
Today I was mucking Barnaby out, shoved the fork in and poked it straight into Tab, (cat) who had sneaked in and buried herself without me knowing. She ran off, but wasn't yelping. We managed to catch up with her and feel her all over, and fortunately she wasn't wounded. I felt terrible, I adore this cat. I did go and find her later and apologised profusely.
Then later I fed Climb (Tab's sister) stepped backwards and trod on her paw. What is the matter with me? The chickens see me and squawk, "Run for your lives!" and dash off in the opposite direction. Can't think why.
I've done all of Mr O's ironing. It took me an hour and a half. By the time I'd finished I didn't have the strength to do mine. It's amazing what you can decide doesn't need ironing when you put your mind to it.
I've finally had time to make a sponge cake with my new rubber tins (!) Lorayne said not to forget to increase my quantities, and she's right. I normally do what we call 6, 6 and 3 ie. six ounces of flour, sugar and butter, with three eggs. I increased it to 8, 8 and 4, but it still only just filled the tin. I'm going to have to go to 10, 10 and 5 next time. That's nearly half a dozen eggs in one cake! It made a lovely sponge, though, but cooked much more quickly than normal. I was lucky to catch it before it burned, as usually I can just put my timer on and leave it, but I could smell it was ready. I didn't have to grease or line the tins either, and when I turned them upside down, the cakes just fell out. Amazing. I put jam in the middle and dusted the top with icing sugar and it's gone down a treat.
Aren't a lot of blogs utterly beautiful? I have just found one called Marmalade Rose where she has invited people to commit to twenty minutes of crafting every day for a year. Pop over there when you get time, it's a lovely blog. I have joined the 'Twenty Minuters'. If you have ever watched Black Adder Goes Forth, you'll know why the title makes me laugh. I shall tuck myself away amongst the truly talented and hope nobody notices me. But at least it's a start, isn't it? I don't need much motivation actually, I am finding it totally addictive. You know I am doing a little bear which will be made up into a valentine's card for Mr O? I sit here sewing it secretly in the afternoons, and can hear Mr O pull up in the car. But there's time for a few more stitches before he walks in. Two more stitches. I can't put it down. Tessa stands up, stretches and walks over to the back door, wagging her tail. One more stitch. The back door opens. I shove the cross stitch back into my little tin, slam the lid on and walk slowly, slowly into the kitchen. "Hello darling, how was your day?"