Pooling Resources

There has been a disruption in my blog flow and I must apologise. I am having a rather hard time with a minor bout of depression due to my continually walking into things I am sure I wasn’t walking into a few months ago. This, exam-material hand-in-time, Tories, Dad’s illness, phone bills, and weariness from the Bath-Cambridge commute have all conspired to dull any creativity or witty banter these last couple of weeks. But fear not! Summer has struck and I am rallying.

Iris In Rain (c) T. Bush 2010

Also I am happy to report that Dad has got through his first stages of treatment and although it was very tough and at times pretty hairy (well no longer ‘hairy’ sadly...but it will grow back..) he did it and the doctors did him proud! He is on a rest now for another couple of weeks to build his strength and weight back for the stem cell infusion. His partner D has been by his side all through this time and doing an excellent job of care, cajoling and encouraging. She is force feeding him steak and chips as I type!

Last weekend was glorious and although I was stuck inside on the computer I thought it only fair to buy Grace a paddling pool as she was struggling a little in the heat. Being a black dog she absorbs heat like an fat eskimo in a burkha.
At first she wasn’t sure.
Suspicous in fact...

But then she figured it out. (check the tail wag!)

Grace and Pool x 2 (c) T. Bush 2010

Dirty Girl

My flat is a tip. I am wading through teetering piles of paper, mostly study notes, bills and election leaflets. I ran out of hoover bags about..err...1998 actually and the dog has shed me a new carpet. There is stuff congealed on the cooker that seems to be sprouting tentacles and the fridge won’t open in embarrassment.
And it’s a bank holiday which means we woke to lashing rain and howling winds.
By midday the sun has made an effort and although there is no difference to the temperature, outside looks less arctic. Apart from that wind......As I watch a pigeon is blown backwards across the garden with a slightly baffled look on its face. I suit up for a brisk, bracing walk pulling on long johns, a big cardigan, extra socks and a rain coat and square my shoulders bravely harnessing up Grace but outside I am hit across the face by icy sodden blasts and my resolve dissolves. I whimper. Grace looks at me with disgust but I am defeated and retreat back into the warmth of the living room with its towering piles of detritus. Perhaps I could set fire to some for extra warmth?

(image from internet)
Dad skypes from Lusaka and we have the ‘Zambia’ skype conversation
‘....Can you see me?..’
‘Yes..no ..now I can..’
‘..... I’ve lost connection...Can you hear me?’
‘Yes..no ...now and now and...oops lost video..can you see me? ‘
Repeat to fade.

He is heading to Pretoria for his treatment next week which is both exciting and terrifying. Six weeks of tenter-hooks for us and tender bits for him. With the World Cup kicking off flights to visit him are exorbitant and impossible so I am going to check on the costs of sending myself by registered post.

We, Grace and I, are up to Bath again tomorrow and so with rather a lot of reading and marking up to be done I can see that the spring cleaning isn’t going to happen today. Perhaps when the sun comes out for real and the birds (and the pigs) start flying the right way round.

(I have to say so myself but isn't this the greatest photo of the hound to date!! )
'This Dog Has My Heart' (c) T.Bush 2010