It's been a good deal milder the past couple of days. Which means we haven't had the central heating on, which can only be a good thing. We have crocuses coming up in the garden, the one's Carol's mum gave us and which were planted in the large round ceramic bowl we bought when we went to Norfolk Lavender several years ago when we went to visit my brother Andrew. The Christmas tree, which has been put outside in the garden once the festive season was over and still in it's plant-pot (and in definite need of a replant in a larger one at some point in the not-too distant future.) appears to be growing quite considerably. But yesterday the weather turned a good deal colder, so we had to put the heating back on. Well, considering we're almost into February (well, it will be tomorrow.) we seem to have escaped the worst of the winter weather. I just hope we don't get another dose of snow and ice. As I write this (at 8.55 a.m.) it is raining and there quite a river running down the road in front of the house.
We are slowly filling up our new bookshelf unit. The boxes of books and other things are being emptied from when we dismantled the old shelves. As I write this, the bits of the old shelves are still piled up on the grass at the front of the house, ready for the Council workmen to take them away. I'm surprised that nobody has attempted to shift them in the night. There are spaces for baskets or boxes which we will eventually buy from IKEA and these will hopefully hide a lot of the items which previously lived on the shelves, the bits and pieces you can't avoid having somewhere or other in the room, such as the cables which connect our cameras to the computer, glasses cases, spare change, pencil sharpeners and a host of other things you can never do without, however hard you try.
Alfie has become even more clever We gave him a large tin of Baker's dog treats for Christmas. He knows exactly where it is (standing on one of the red IKEA coffee tables near the window.) and what it contains. He goes and stares at it, even poking it with his nose. Or his other trick, taking you to the sliding patio doors in the kitchen which lead out into the garden. Goes out for a wee in the garden and comes in and waits, expecting to automatically get a treat for going outside, but now he just takes you to the sliding door and stares out, and seems to think that alone warrants a treat. Crafty little dog. Also, if he sits in front of either of us, when we're watching television (cleverly in our eye-line) and stares at us, he will get something such as a treat from the tin.
I'm continuing to read 'Goodbye Christopher Robin,' by Ann Thwaite. It was a free book one Saturday when you bought the Sunday Telegraph. I think I might have read it, having borrowed it from Bedford Central Library many years ago. It is the basis for a film of the same name. It's about how A.A.Milne came to write the 'Winnie-the-Pooh' books. I'm enjoying it up to a point, but then Milne isn't a particularly interesting person. Pooh is a far more interesting, which says a lot about his creator. Milne was a relatively successful playwright before the 'Pooh' books were published, but nowadays the plays are relatively unknown. Milne is not as interesting a person, or so it would appear from reading this book, as, for example, Oscar Wilde, or Noël Coward, who wrote plays which are still being produced and never seem to date. Both came out with witticisms and many quotes come from their plays and other writings. I have to say it's a bit of an effort to read and I'll be glad when I have finished it. I'm interested in the creative process, how Milne came up with the idea for the stories and characters, but that is about all. I do like 'Pooh,' but I think the whimsy does get a bit cloying and mawkish. I prefer children's writing to be more acerbic. Writers such as Roald Dahl, who gave a far more realistic sense to their characters, not in the last sentimental and whimsical in the least.
This last section is being written at 7.35 p.m. The pieces of old bookshelf, which were piled up on the grass at the front of the house have now been removed by the Council workmen of the refuse collection department. It makes me laugh when I knew from hearing them collect the stuff, but then when I went online and opened my emails I saw the Council had sent me an email informing of the fact that the wood had been taken. Good of them to let me know.
We are slowly filling up our new bookshelf unit. The boxes of books and other things are being emptied from when we dismantled the old shelves. As I write this, the bits of the old shelves are still piled up on the grass at the front of the house, ready for the Council workmen to take them away. I'm surprised that nobody has attempted to shift them in the night. There are spaces for baskets or boxes which we will eventually buy from IKEA and these will hopefully hide a lot of the items which previously lived on the shelves, the bits and pieces you can't avoid having somewhere or other in the room, such as the cables which connect our cameras to the computer, glasses cases, spare change, pencil sharpeners and a host of other things you can never do without, however hard you try.
Alfie has become even more clever We gave him a large tin of Baker's dog treats for Christmas. He knows exactly where it is (standing on one of the red IKEA coffee tables near the window.) and what it contains. He goes and stares at it, even poking it with his nose. Or his other trick, taking you to the sliding patio doors in the kitchen which lead out into the garden. Goes out for a wee in the garden and comes in and waits, expecting to automatically get a treat for going outside, but now he just takes you to the sliding door and stares out, and seems to think that alone warrants a treat. Crafty little dog. Also, if he sits in front of either of us, when we're watching television (cleverly in our eye-line) and stares at us, he will get something such as a treat from the tin.
I'm continuing to read 'Goodbye Christopher Robin,' by Ann Thwaite. It was a free book one Saturday when you bought the Sunday Telegraph. I think I might have read it, having borrowed it from Bedford Central Library many years ago. It is the basis for a film of the same name. It's about how A.A.Milne came to write the 'Winnie-the-Pooh' books. I'm enjoying it up to a point, but then Milne isn't a particularly interesting person. Pooh is a far more interesting, which says a lot about his creator. Milne was a relatively successful playwright before the 'Pooh' books were published, but nowadays the plays are relatively unknown. Milne is not as interesting a person, or so it would appear from reading this book, as, for example, Oscar Wilde, or Noël Coward, who wrote plays which are still being produced and never seem to date. Both came out with witticisms and many quotes come from their plays and other writings. I have to say it's a bit of an effort to read and I'll be glad when I have finished it. I'm interested in the creative process, how Milne came up with the idea for the stories and characters, but that is about all. I do like 'Pooh,' but I think the whimsy does get a bit cloying and mawkish. I prefer children's writing to be more acerbic. Writers such as Roald Dahl, who gave a far more realistic sense to their characters, not in the last sentimental and whimsical in the least.
This last section is being written at 7.35 p.m. The pieces of old bookshelf, which were piled up on the grass at the front of the house have now been removed by the Council workmen of the refuse collection department. It makes me laugh when I knew from hearing them collect the stuff, but then when I went online and opened my emails I saw the Council had sent me an email informing of the fact that the wood had been taken. Good of them to let me know.
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