Moon reflection.

It's been four weeks since we left France. Twelve weeks since the unexpected offer for the house was received. Sophie has been completely untroubled by the experience. It has to be said that male PONs were not as easy to travel with.

Downsizing to a house a quarter of the size of The Rickety Old Farmhouse has had its challenges. We'd already sent a truck with pictures and sculptures to an auctioneer in Paris. Despite the paring back we've still got too much stuff so an auctioneer from Glasgow will be here this afternoon to see what else might be worth selling. We've decided that we'll only have bright, modern, cheerful things in the house. Large furniture can be sold off and dusty old portraits can be dispatched to the family . 

Sophie has  now decided what spots in the house are hers. These are invariably in places that cause the maximum inconvenience and require her to be stepped over. Suggestions that she might wish to move are met with willful deafness.

Town is humming. The university has sensibly decided that life will pretty much carry on as usual although the rugby club bar will have to close at two am in deference to the period of mourning. Students are reminded that festivities should be appropriate for the week leading up to a state funeral.  For many of the youngsters , who've suffered two years of Covid induced isolation,  this is the first time they can really get out and mingle. Letting them do so is sensible.

The church notice board is a master class in understatement. A small flag at half mast and the briefest of messages.

Last night the most amazing moon. Large and bright. It hovered above the horizon like an orange dinner plate. I'd hoped the camera would capture its intensity and size but it hasn't.  'The font' joins me in the garden and we stand with a glass of champagne marveling at this unexpected sight. Even better, the sea is calm enough for the moon to be reflected on the water.

PONs know that all sorts of weird and wonderful things come out on a bright moonlight night. Sophie, being occasionally fearless, heads off across the harvested wheat fields in noisy pursuit of things she alone can see. The family diva soon returns to the front gate convinced that she has scared off all manner of interlopers. She is congratulated and rewarded with a small carrot. As all PONs know - bravery is its own reward but a carrot and a cuddle don't hurt. What the villagers think of a PONette that howls at the moon is unknown.

Tweet of the day :https://twitter.com/Gabriele_Corno/status/1567416746344079361

Thought this was daft but apparently all beekeepers talk to their bees. Nothing to add now that I understand bees are psychopomps  :https://twitter.com/PickardJE/status/1569253266755551236 . It is still arguably the oddest / most wonderful thing I've discovered this year :https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Telling_the_bees

Herons:1

Good morning from Sophie who is up early and keen to get her day started. There are hares to chase ( ineptly )  and seals to glare at. This morning there's a beyond glorious sunrise and, despite the early hour, a warm gentle breeze . We're out for a full hour. By the time we head home for breakfast the sun is beaming down. This morning Sophie opts for a route via the tatty fields and along the wooded burn to the sea. There's a small lake here that was excavated by a local farmer. He filled it with trout but the local herons soon put paid to any idea he had of fishing. Nature :1, Local Farmer :0.

Difficult to say who enjoys these morning adventures more - dog or owner ? Post walk there's time for a quick napette. Sophie has new , expensive, organic lamb hide braided chews. It's soon clear that she much prefers the cheap hide chews that are of 'indeterminate' origin and a tenth of the price . Go figure. The lamb chew is pointedly left unfinished.

FatFace meets constitutional change. I found the juxtaposition of this sign in a shop doorway to be ( unintentionally ) amusing.

The new King comes to Edinburgh today. The coffin will be taken from the palace at the  bottom of the Royal Mile to the cathedral. It will be interesting to see how many folk show up to pay their respects. Less than a week ago we had a new Prime Minister, then a new cabinet, then the Queen died and now we have a new monarch. I'd expected there to be more criticisms of the old Queen as a representative of an era of empire and colonialism but people seem instead to have understood that she enthusiastically led her country away from that to something better.

As an indicator of change this would have looked very different 70 years ago :https://twitter.com/SteveStuWill/status/1559976285358632960

Seaweed.

The newspapers hadn't been delivered when we went in on Friday morning but the newsagent kindly kept a copy for me. Within thirty minutes her daily stock had sold out. She thinks people are saving them as a memento. Everyone I've spoken to set aside time to watch the new King speak to the nation last night. Our neighbour at the house in town says that for the ten minutes while the broadcast was on the streets were almost empty of cars. One of those rarest of moments when the country has a common interest. I'd assumed that the death of the Queen would be reported by the BBC but ignored by everyone under a certain age. That's not the way the national psychology seems to be playing out. If anyone wrote a book  with the Queen appointing a new government at the start of the week and dying at the end of it the critics would dismiss it as infantile fantasy. Yet, here we are.

The two plump pigeons who call this place home are drying their feathers on the farmyard fence. Sophie ignores them. PON and pigeons co-exist on a false mutual, if unspoken, understanding that Sophie is a skilled hunter . Both parties seem happy with this arrangement. It saves a lot of time and bother.

A brisk wind this morning. Ideal PON weather. Despite two metal knees and advancing years the family diva sets off across country at a trot. Sophie finds the coast to be intriguing. She has recently discovered seaweed - which makes a delicious pre-breakfast snack.

On our way back she turns to make sure I'm keeping up. The family diva displays a combination of impatience and solicitousness. Impatience wins and she's soon racing back to the gate to wait for me, and breakfast.  She passes a herd of deer who look up but don't move. They too seem to have discovered that when it comes to PONettes hunting skills there is a lot of sturm but little drang.

Dog lovers will understand this story about a seeing-eye dog :https://twitter.com/PickardJE/status/1568517462341165056

Yesterday I saw two members of the Royal and Ancient wearing black arm bands. An overly Victorian gesture ? The change still shocks. The National Anthem has new words. This is the first time I'd heard it sung with King replacing Queen. Barely audible but both choir and congregation stumble , a little, over the change. By the end of the week it will be commonplace :https://youtu.be/phM2GL_hPL8?t=2570

What Londoners made of this dirgeful Scottish interlude only be imagined :https://youtu.be/KgOridFp7Do?t=2588

Where were you when ?

Life has a few ' Where were you when ?' days . Where were you when Kennedy was shot ? Where were you when Diana's death was announced ? Yesterday was one of those days. Angus was on the train from Waverley. Outside the evening express the weather was unforgiving. Heavy rain, banshee winds and pitch darkness. The Scots have a special word for weather like this - 'dreich'. An onomatopoeic masterpiece of a word that says it all. 

Somewhere just east of Kirkcaldy, where the tracks turn inland,  a young woman in her early twenties with wild orange and blue streaked hair, stood in the aisle and announced in a shocked voice 'The Queen has died '. People looked up from their phones and switched to the news feeds. I'd guesstimate that until then 90% of people on the train were immersed in their own world of text and music. 

There was a momentary murmur from half a dozen throats before silence fell across the carriage. The ticket inspector wipes tears from her eyes as do a few others. I'd expected there to be a divergence of views in this dissenting nation  but there weren't. One student on his way to a rugby match in Dundee turned to his friend across the way and said ' I'd better call my Mum. She'll be so upset '. No words could sum it up better - a family affair like the passing of a granny.  For most families the Queen has been a quiet presence for five generations. I'm sure there are families where that is stretched to six or seven. Like the Constitution she floated above the vulgarities of politics and politicians. A champion of public good against private reward. As with the Constitution there is much to be said for constancy. The remainder of the journey completed in silence bar the sound of the wind and the rain against the carriage windows.

Back at home we open a good ' Where were you when ?' bottle of wine and toast her memory. 'The Font' says words that haven't been heard for seventy years, 'God save the King'.  The end to one of those days when the country starts a new chapter.

Black ties, white shirts and grey suits tracked down in readiness for the days to come. Change already evident. The flags on all the university buildings quickly lowered to half mast. Only Union flags being flown. Bells muffled ( who would have thought of that and how do you do it ?) . They'll toll out 96 times later today. Messages of condolence posted on websites. Black borders around newspaper  front pages. Concerts cancelled, strikes called off. Rites of mourning from a distant time dusted down. Pledges of allegiance readied. Soon the late Queen will start a long slow journey south to Edinburgh. Towns along the route already preparing. This afternoon the medieval simplicity of the proclamation of the new King at the Mercat Cross in Edinburgh - something John Knox would recognize . Sometime at the end of the week the casket will rest in Holyrood before being taken to St.Giles and then to London. There will be memorial services in towns and villages. As she died in Scotland bars in the golf clubs will be closed for a period of mourning. In readiness for ceremonies to come mayoral limousines and regalia will be polished until they sparkle. Then after a suitable period there will be celebrations for the new monarch. Routines and arcana that have been forgotten  will spring back into life. History blinks and moves on but there's an unspoken sense this morning that some great and invisible change is in the air. There's a sense of 'what happens now ?' vulnerability.

For Sophie a day of long walks along the shore beckons. Who knows there may be some sunshine ?

Perhaps the nicest and least pompous thing I've read - https://twitter.com/doctor_oxford/status/1567877435512815618 although this had real quality :https://twitter.com/EdwardGLuce/status/1567976520404336640/photo/1

And I'm quite impressed that they've got this up and running and the Book of Condolence ready to be signed by daybreak :https://news.st-andrews.ac.uk/archive/the-death-of-her-majesty-the-queen/

Delivered.

The architect comes, then goes. While he's here he has a cup of coffee and makes notes. The architect has a large shiny black Porsche. He calls Sophie 'Miss Fluffy'. He also suggests that we move out while the works are underway. This won't be anytime soon as planning permission is likely to take at least six months . We had somehow thought the building work might go on around us. We are soon disabused of that notion.

After he's gone a kitchen bin is delivered . Then comes a van bearing candles in case we have power cuts this winter. I have the feeling that it could be very dark here in January if the power is 'rationed'.

The telephone repair man shows up to deal with the 'crackle' on the line. He's a cheery soul and replaces our phone sockets with 'industrial' ones that are ( apparently ) of much better quality. He also disappears for half an hour to the local switching centre and upgrades our line. British Telecom scores 10/10. Even better, he has shortbread , which is shared with Sophie. This takes the BT engineers score to 18/10. If there had been more Sophie would have given him a whopping 20/10.

The big news of the day is the delivery of the bed. The van has driven from Paris to London, spent the night, and then headed north into barbarian country. Why they thought it would take them six hours to get from London to  Scotland is anyone's guess. The British Isles may not be wide but they are long. The bed is due at two and arrives at six thirty. The professional bed assembling takes a further two hours. One bed assembler is Polish, the other Spanish. They take their shoes off each time they enter the house which intrigues Sophie no end. 

This morning Angus is heading into Edinburgh. Sophie is loaded into the back of the car for the journey to the station. There may be a halt on the way home for 'The Font' and the family diva to do some shopping and share a Ginger Snap at the garden centre.

Required 'provisions' for a journey with a PONette.

 

They look so young.

A glorious dawn followed in quick succession by torrential rain which soon morphs into the mother of all thunder storms. Within an hour of going out we've experienced summer and autumn with a brief detour into winter. 

Angus and Sophie manage to get a good fifty minute walk done before the heavens open. This morning we don't see another living soul but a herd of a dozen deer watch us from the brow of the hill. In France they would have run away as soon as they saw us. Here they seem unconcerned. Could it be the lack of organized hunting makes them less afraid ?

The replacement electrical cables arrived by courier. Angus gets both tv's working. 'The Font' observes that one of them has been damaged in the move. The pixels on one side have completely gone leaving a black empty space where the picture should be. What's the betting it's too late to claim on the insurance ? There's always some small print that says 'all damages must be recorded and reported within 24 hours of delivery'. The good news is that the smaller, older tv works.Netflix and Amazon Prime both continue to beam in  French programmes. I shall change to a UK contract this week.

If life in a small French village provided Sophie with open spaces to roam in then life in a small Scottish village does so ten times over. She can run free for miles in every direction. The family diva has decided that 'her' sleeping spot is a rug in the drawing room. Dog owners will recognize this as the 'sacrificial rug' that will never be pristine again.

A baby flamingo learning to stand on one leg :https://twitter.com/Yoda4ever/status/1566781947312885761

11,000 students have arrived in a town half that size. They all look so young ... and take up all the parking spots :https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bxMU1MwPX_0

Energy.

Another Tuesday morning. Britain has a new Prime Minister, America gears up for the mid-terms and the war in Ukraine grinds on. Here we're woken just after five thirty by the whooping of a huge flock of Canada Geese descending over the garden and landing in the field outside the front door. The thundering noise of a thousand of them is not unlike a 747 coming in to land. 

More excitement follows. Down on the foreshore ( on the start of day 'comfort break' for Sophie )  dog and master stand transfixed as the sky turns black with kittiwakes blown towards the shore by this mornings brisk south easterly. There are  thousands and thousands of them. The village secretary , another early riser due to the demands of two boisterous Jack Russells, says the bird watching society saw more than fourteen thousand pass by yesterday. I wonder who in their right mind would spend their day counting kittiwakes but I keep this thought to myself. Sophie is not greatly enamoured with the Jack Russells who do pirouettes in the fields around her.

Outside the gate we see half a dozen comically obese birds waddling along the lane. Whimbrels. They're full to bursting with food - literally. The birds have bulked up ahead of the long journey down through Spain  to their winter home in Namibia. I'm guessing that this is peak migration season and that by the end of the week most of these exotic summer visitors will be gone and we'll be left alone with the Skuas and Petrels.

By the time we reach the end of the road the clouds have blown away and we're bathed in warm, bright sunshine. Sophie discovers the lake and the old bothy. Deer, some hidden, some not, peer at us from the reeds. The lake has a slightly sulphorous smell so both dog and owner maintain some distance from the waters edge.

It goes without saying that on our way back the weather changes and we're once again buffeted by a strong wind under a solid cover of cloud. Faced with weather like this the best thing a girl can do is slump inside the porch door for a napette to recharge her batteries. She'll need all her energy for greeting visitors. Nine deliveries are expected today including ( hopefully )  new power cables and remotes for the televisions.

Scotlands greatest culinary gift to the world on the shelves in the supermarket. Tomorrow Angus will have Tattie Scones with his breakfast bacon and eggs. I'm betting Sophie will score them 20/10.

Grumpy cats. Pallas wild cat kittens in Novosibirsk zoo :https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mlm2R6n4CVw

Things to do with rice :https://twitter.com/mZHtgivNQr33RCL/status/1566339470512664582

Sleep retreats - whatever next ? :https://www.rand.org/blog/2022/09/sleep-retreats-a-pricey-trend-that-doesnt-have-to-be.html

Stand in.

 

You know you're in Scotland when there are haggis flavoured potato crisps in the shops.

Doesn't matter where in the world Sophie goes for a walk. Her fur picks up twigs and dried grass in much the same way a magnet attracts iron filings. A deep and thorough Labor Day grooming lies in store.

Three or four hundred Canada geese in the field by the gate this morning. The field was harvested last week and the geese are feeding contentedly among the stalks . The wall of sound they make removes any idea Sophie might have of chasing them. Every PON girl knows there's a dividing line between being brave and being foolhardy. 400 geese fall into the foolhardy column.

It's rained overnight which means there are puddles on the track down to the water. Sophie has to stop and drink from every one. To be more precise she has to stop and drink from every puddle while carefully standing in the middle of it. I point out the illogicality of this but she's rushed off to glare at the fulmars on the rocks. Who cares about logic when there's excitement to be had ? Who indeed ?

So starts a Monday morning with a Polish Lowland Sheepdog in a quiet and windswept patch of paradise. Our task for today is to get a television working.

Discovery of the year : Wine suitcases :https://visitproseccoitaly.com/flying-with-wine-travel-bag/

A Scottish Sunday

 

Somehow in the move all the electrical cables and remotes have got lost. They've been packed somewhere so obvious they can't possibly be overlooked. Problem is neither of us can remember where that blindingly obvious place is. We are without television but have a functioning laptop. This coming weeks #1 task is to find the missing leads.

This media free environment gives us time to observe two plump pigeons who call the garden their home. When we first arrived Sophie would chase them. Now she ignores them and they ignore her. They are completely indifferent to us.

Cornflowers still in bloom in the sheltered spots by the old stone walls. On our six am walk four young deer come bounding across the fields towards us. Sophie is too busy drinking from a puddle to see them as they pass behind her . They must have been within six feet of us. 

The peace of Sophie's 'zen' spot on the gravel by the acer is disturbed by a young visitor. She lets out a loud 'harrumph' to make it plain that she'll deal with this interloper as soon as she's recharged her batteries. After all this mornings excitement that may be some time.

Twitter link of the day :https://twitter.com/maz_jovanovich/status/1565807237280382976

Another victory ?

Good morning from Sophie who is out and about at first light ensuring that all is well in our wee corner of the world.

This morning she starts her day by chasing two plump pigeons.

Then the overweight village C-A-T makes an unscheduled appearance. This is the cause for a 'howling'.

A little later a herd of deer wander down to the water. Sophie remains oblivious to their presence. So much for her hunting skills.  I ask her what role PONs might have played in the evolution of hunter-gatherers but by this stage she's noticed a pair of geese that have landed in the next field. She races off. A PONettes work is unrelenting.

Another day flies by without anything getting done. The burglar alarm man shows up and spends three hours doing whatever a burglar alarm man does. The new  technology is beyond me. Sophie ignores him despite his best efforts to strike up a conversation.The burglar repair man is a Palestinian Christian from Nazareth. Faced with ever growing violence he had to flee with his wife, son and two young daughters. They came to Scotland a year ago. There he had his own company, here he's simply happy to have work. His wife is pregnant and is expecting in December. She was traumatized by the murder of a brother and refused to leave the house for six months after they arrived. His son was mute for three months after seeing his uncle killed by nine men armed men, but is now talking again. What burdens he must shoulder but he tells me he's happy, makes reasonable money and his boy and girls are safe and settled into a good school. The kids speak English fluently with a Lothian accent. Another of lifes quiet 'against the odds' victories. There's something ever so slightly joyously Christmas like in all of this - Nazareth, a December birth and new life. All we're missing is a donkey.  Angus finds himself saying 'thank you' aloud to no one in particular for the glorious dullness of being in a settled country.

The architect shows up, spends ten minutes, then announces he'll come back on Wednesday. The specialist bed installers telephone to reconfirm they'll also be here on Wednesday. The electrician doesn't show nor does the builder. Presumably they're all working trying to get the university operational by the weekend. The joiner does arrive but the man who does the measuring has got 'personal problems' so another trip will need to be arranged to measure the bookcases. Through it all the sun shines down through scurrying clouds. The PONette is loving this weather.

Effusive.

The shelf stackers are having a pre-opening cigarette break outside the supermarket. These days the supermarket opens at six and closes at midnight. In the hours in between this small army beaver away refilling the storage areas and unloading deliveries . Despite the early hour they say hello to Sophie by name.

By six am we're outside the university where Sophie is greeted , effusively, by the cleaning ladies waiting for their bus home. Many of the cleaning ladies are Polish which means the Polish Lowland Sheepdog is spoken to in her native language. It goes without saying Angus is ignored.

The fishing boats have headed off early this morning. Sophie finds a puddle of marine engine anti-freeze . She is 'encouraged' along.

By the end of our hour's walk the sun is up and the sky blue. I'd have thought it impossible but there are even more vans parked outside the university buildings this morning. I catch sight of one that's come all the way from East Kilbride. The hourly rates must be good and the problem severe to get people to drive from the other side of the country.

Sophie opts for a restorative moment or two of contemplative battery recharging under the acer in the garden. This is her 'I'm invisible so don't even think of bothering me' spot.

 

Might be.

The sun is out, the air is fresh and there are seals on the beach. Today might turn out to be the best day ever. Now, if only there were Ginger Snaps. Perhaps they'll appear after a napette ?