Archive | November, 2018

Busted!

14 Nov

About two years ago Blazer decided he had enough seniority to sleep in Poppa’s recliner instead of on the floor. Poppa did not agree and kept a large cardboard box on the seat of the chair.  A couple of days ago I found the box on the floor and assumed the cat had pushed it off while he was getting cozy.

He does have a good thick pillow, courtesy of Local Granddaughter, so he’s not sleeping on the bare floor. Because the floor is admittedly cold, I had found an old, threadbare, flannel sheet and put it over the puppy every night, carefully tucking him in.  Sometimes Blazer will get out of bed after he’s gone down for the night, and wanders around with the sheet over his back, The Ghost of Winters Past.

This morning I found the sheet on the floor next to the recliner. I’m not ratting on him, but it doesn’t take much to figure out where he’d spent the night!

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Monsters, Inc.

8 Nov

I noticed a man wandering around in the churchyard while I was at knitting this morning, so I stepped outside to see if I could help me.

“Nope. Just playing Pokémon.”

“Did you catch him?”

“I did, but there are more. Your field is full of monsters!”

“Ah, so. Do you think I should ask the rector to do an exorcism?”

“Not yet.” He tapped his phone and grinned at me. “Let me catch the rest of them, and then you won’t need to bother.”

Whatever it is, fella, I’m glad it gets people out and walking around.

Family Matters

3 Nov

Both The Squire and I have been tracing our family trees. Mine sort of fizzles out after the German side arrived in America, but he has gotten parts of his tree back to 9-something in France and the 1100s in Wales. That gets tricky, as he’s back to the “ap” names. Ap is the Welsh equivalent of the Arabic bin or the Hebrew bar, and you really have to pay attention.

We are accustomed to people posting odd things to their trees, such as John Singer Sargent’s  portrait of Madame X stuck in to represent a lady from the court of Henry VIII, or Botticelli’s Portrait of a Young Woman who was supposed to be Henrietta Marie of England! So – one of his ancestors is John Rogers, the Martyr, who was burned at the stake by Bloody Mary.  This morning The Squire was putzing around on-line when he found a new link to Mr. Rogers. One woman had posted a newspaper article, written by Daisy Dahlrymple, and included a photo. The article was quite informative, except for the fact that Miss Dahlrymple is a fictitious character, a journalist in Hampshire, England.

John Rogers died in 1555.