Glis Glis, Racehorses and Mandarins

So that was Easter. The clocks went forward, the Spring has sprung. And it's snowing. Nothing too arctic but snow all the same. A few boats about-even the odd hirecraft. Mostly families making the best of the Easter hols. Mum, Dad and a couple of glowering teenagers looking like they wished they were in bed or at least in a centrally heated bedroom with the laptop.

Talking of technology can you guess what this is?

It's attractive, curvaceous and tactile. And it has a screw in it! And every man wants one.
Yes you've guessed it.

It's a bottle opener.
Pam brought it back from Uganda and I love it.
Despite my best efforts to cut down on the gout- inducing beer I have found it necessary to road test my new acquisition frequently. It works very well. At first I thought it was a gavel and could certainly use it as such-or a pipe substitute to be drawn on in times of stress or contentment. Hey ho. Time to test it again.

I am still struggling to finish the inside of the boat so that as soon as some decent weather arrives (it's snowing as I write) I can start on the outside. 

At least I am ready to paint when the call comes. I have just invested a tenner on a couple of new brushes. Some may not be aware of the local pest round here called a Glis Glis. They eat wiring, plastic and as I discovered yesterday, paint brushes. No, not the handle just the bristly bit.

Many years ago Walter Rothschild, who later became the second Baron Rothschild, brought the first six Glis Glis to England in 1902. Nobody knows exactly how, but they escaped (probably freed by the Dormouse equivalent of the SAS) into the wild from the Rothschild home at Tring Park. They were, apparently favoured by the Romans because they were, and presumably still are, edible.
They ate the roof of our marquee a couple of Winters back and I am still hoping the Rothschilds will pay out for a replacement but they seem reticent. Short of funds I expect.


Whilst the weather is too cold to paint a little gardening is possible Remember the Builder's Bottom mentioned in the last post? Well here it is. Installed on the moorings with flowerpots added. Not sure what flowers to plant  but suggestions will be many. I had to tidy up the jagged edges on the legs before planting. I fear the boat passing by complete with kids on roof might have been somewhat alarmed by that sight of yours truly working away with a hacksaw on somebody's leg but it had to be done. How I suffer for my art! An Arts Council grant must surely follow. About as likely as getting a few quid off the Rothschilds.

But gardening has turned to painting by Friday with progress at last-it's only been a year-with the shower. All the trims are undercoated and tomorrow the job will be finished.

WRONG!

24 hours later and the undercoat is still tacky bordering on wet. The weather ( and I'm sorry to keep banging on about the bloody weather but it is so perverse) is brilliant and by lunchtime is really Springlike. Painting for Britain now and whilst I've had to adjust the timescale for finishing the inside of the boat I am at least within spitting distance of the end of the tunnel- to mix my metaphors.

Mind you if you were in a tunnel and assuming you didn't fall over and break your leg or anything you could get to a distance from the exit where you may, assuming you indulged in such foul and ill mannered habits, spit at the end. I do hope however that nobody bigger than you is entering the tunnel at that moment. Should this be the case and they take exception to your horrid spittiness and they are of a violent nature then you may well not reach the end of the tunnel at which you have spat. 

In any event I knew I would not reach the end of any tunnels today because the Grand National starts at 4.15 and I need to be in front of a screen to watch my selections fall over, turn round, get bored or just slow down. To the Lamb where I was able to watch all my horses do all of the above. Pam got the third and won £9. She bought a round of drinks to celebrate and it came to £9.20. This is no way to make a living. I have in 66 years never won a brass farthing on the Grand National. I do not anticipate this not being the case for at least a year.

The great news is my old friend the Mandarin duck is back. With his mate. I am fascinated how year after year the two of them, and she stays very much out of sight, turn up and mix with the other ducks-usually in the harshest of weather-and never a cross word between them. Mind you it would be a clever duck, Mandarin or otherwise that could do a crossword-sorry...

but it's great to see them.  As it was great to see everybody today who shared in my losses at Aintree but buoyed me up with various draughts of magic elixir.

Tomorrow is another day (Anne of Green Gables)