Theresa’s Writing

So the last two weekends have been spent afloat and Rusty B is gradually becoming less like a mock Tudor bar ( though the dark brown gloss beams remain) and more like a friendly boat, though there is still a way to go in that department. However, we now have running water, and even more…

So, as some of you know, the inevitable happened last weekend.The chickens are no more. I got up to feed them on Saturday  morning ,  to be greeted by an ominous silence and an even more ominous pile of feathers. It seems a wily fox had managed to tunnel into their run and mercilessly dragged…

This morning I decided I was going to start my day with an early morning swim at the lido. And then I went outside and realised that despite sunshine streaming through my window giving out the illusion of warmth it was in fact rather chilly, so instead I put on some socks and a jumper.…

This weekend we had fun cruising up the Grand Union Canal in Rusty B, who is gradually getting less rusty thanks to T who is busily re sealing and re wiring, and hopefully soon we will have running water and a shower. We even managed a full roast Easter Sunday lunch with all the trimmings…

I am lucky enough to have an allotment right at the end of our garden, so near that we have put in a gate there for easy access meaning  that I have absolutely no excuse  not to tend to it in every spare moment. Well, yes indeed.  When we first moved here about 23 years…

The very first job I did as an event organiser /entertainment manager was at a Kwiksave conference which was held out of season in a holiday camp in North Wales. This was exactly as glamorous as it sounds. It was so in the middle of nowhere that the winter train timetable meant that you had…

So, Rusty B is back in the water, and as we discovered was actually  full of water. Three months in the boatyard when  they had forgotten to replace the tarpaulin over the front deck  meant that rain  had seeped through the deck and once she was back on the canal we realised she  was sitting…

Does anyone remember the TV series in the 70’s called Belle and Sebastien? It was about a boy with a page boy fringe who lived in the mountains with his grandfather and his large white Pyrenean mountain dog called ( unsurprisingly) Belle. Though I can’t remember much about it now except that it was appallingly…

The other night I came home from what had started off as a quick drink. You know how these things inevitably go wrong. On my return, being a considerate soul I removed my boots on T’s doorstep and left them on the doormat. Lo and behold the next morning not only did I have a…

I have just seen the neighbours cat scampering across the garden with a large rat in his  mouth looking extremely pleased,  if you can imagine such an expression. This reminded me of an incident in a bar in India where we were passing away the hours before catching the sleeper train down to Kerala after…