Happy Christmas Baggees

Well Baggees, today is Christmas Day, for those of us who celebrate it, so first of all, Baggy and all the gang, would like to wish you a very Happy Christmas from beautifully sunny Suffolk. 

Look at that sky! Not a cloud in sight to produce a snowflake of any size in Suffolk, just horizon-to-horizon blueness, as the happy nutters did their Christmas morning swim!

It was actually surprisingly mild at Southwold this morning for once - just as well really as Creative Clara had Baggy put on her nutty, netty-skirt, which doesn't exactly keep the wind out. The pooch was happy to have a swim, even if Baggy and number one furry weren't.

Number one was sporting the only Christmas present that Baggy let him open before Christmas - his Rudolph jumper. She had to give in to one present being opened, as he's been poking, prodding, shaking, and rattling presents for the last two weeks, with the incessant, 'Can we open them yet?' that was driving Baggy nuts, as it does every year. Last night, (Christmas Eve), it was, 'So, how soon after midnight can we open presents?' Clever Bird thinks that only the first number five is relevant in his age, most of the time, but especially when presents are involved.

So, naturally, as soon as they got home, presents were opened, while they drank tea and ate Calum's homemade sausage rolls. The pooch's two new toys didn't even last long enough for Furry Mama to take a photo of them, but at least he enjoyed himself ripping them to shreds. And Calum's (outdoor) dragon, seems to have taken up residence on the coffee table.

And yes Baggees, that is a glass of Bucks Fizz in Baggy's 60th-birthday glass, and jolly nice it was too!

Now although Calum is more like a five-year-old, than a fifty-five-year-old when it comes to presents; when it comes to cooking, The Domestic Goddess is delighted to say that he's the master! The traditional Christmas dinner was delicious, and now the Baggy household are flopping about eating too many chocolates, and watching television!

Happy Christmas to you all Baggees, wherever you are and whatever you are doing today...

Note to readers: For the avoidance of any doubt, every character in this blog is Baggy! No Baggy was harmed in its writing, although some of them get pretty confused!

Guess what Baggy did!

Baggy didn't manage to get up when Clever Bird wanted her to this morning, as Hormonal Hannah nearly threw the phone across the bedroom when the alarm that Clever Bird had set, started bleeping. She didn't throw it; but she did switch it off so that Baggy could go back to sleep. An hour later, the phone rang. It was number one furry, 'Morning beautiful, I thought I'd call you because you said that you wanted to be up early.'

Even though this was perfectly true, Baggy fancied some more sleep! But after a quick chat, Baggy was awake enough to drag herself out of bed. Clever Bird wanted her day to start earlier so that Furry Mama could take the pooch to the beach, then Grotty Groom could get to the yard, before the horses' lunchtime, because she wanted to work Wesley.

With a slightly briefer walk than usual - largely because the pooch managed to lose his tennis ball halfway through , (or possibly gave it away to a friendly collie, when Furry Mama was heading the two-hundred yards, to collect the pooch's poo and wasn't watching his every move), Grotty was at the yard by 11.15. Now, Clever Bird is not at all sure what came over the woman, but as she was driving there, Grotty decided that she wouldn't work Wesley after all, instead, she would ride Joey! Now Baggees, this was a huge decision! One that came from nowhere, and everywhere. But Psychic Ploppo wonders whether it had something to do with her two fairy friends, who did some of their magic on her behalf last night! It's also because Clever Bird knows that unless Grotty gets on with her plans, they just won't happen.

However, even Clever Bird was surprised when Grotty started to collect Joey's saddle! Baggy's heart was racing as she quickly groomed Joey, and tacked him up.

'Ignore my shakiness Joe, it's just me being silly - nothing for you to worry about.'

Joey carried on munching his hay - not bothered! 

'Rightho, let's go, before I chicken out.'

As Grotty led Joey down the track to the school, she chatted to the snorting horse, 'There's nothing to worry about, we did this a few days ago didn't we? We're only going into the school.'

Once inside the lovely big indoor school, Grotty managed to position Joey next to the mounting block. And repositioned him. And repositioned him again.

'Sorry Boy, but it's an awfully long way up there! I remember the days when I could have got on from the ground.'

'Rather you didn't mum! It twists my back.'

'No chance of that now though, with my arthritic knees.'

'Well, that's good.'

'Don't move baby, or I could end up on the deck.'

'Have some faith mum. I'm going nowhere.'

'Oh, good lad.'

'Told you. I looks after my mum.'

'Okay, walk on Joey.'

For fifteen minutes, Grotty and Joey walked around the large school, while Baggy hummed silly tunes, and chatted to Joey, in an effort to calm Hormonal Hannah down, and to keep Joe relaxed. He was a total angel, and Grotty found herself grinning, and enjoying herself. It was while she was attempting to work out how to get back off, that Grotty realised that it wasn't 'only a few days', since they were last in the school, it was over a month!

'You really are a good boy Joe.'

'Why do you sound so surprised mum? You know I am.'

'You always are. I need to remember that.'

'You do. So, are you getting off?'

'I don't want to accidentally set my air-jacket off baby, so do you think I could get off onto the mounting block?'

'How should I know mum? You're the one up there.'

'Oops, that's too far past it - can you remember how to step back?'

'Of course, I'm not an idiot.'

'Go back.'

'What, more?'

'Back.'

'To here?'

'Perfect. Now if I can just get my leg over the back of this blooming saddle.'

'Get on with it mum.'

'Oh shit.'

'You stuck mum? I won't move I promise.'

'I wish I knew where the bloody mounting block was. Ooooo, there it is. Hang on Joe, I just need to get my foot out of the stirrup and..... Phew! I'm off.'

'You don't say! Where's my treat?'

'Thanks baby. No, that's not a treat, it's my phone.'

'Oh.'

'I'll get you some minty treats when we get back to the stables, but I just need to take a photo of this momentous occasion.'

'Can we go now? I need my treats.'

'I have no idea how to take a selfie Joe.'

'You're not kidding mum. Can we go? Please.'

'You're not even going to let me take a decent photo of you are you? I need proof!'

'We need to get treats! And, it's lunchtime.'

'Okay, I give up. Let's go.'

'Finally.'

For you Baggees who have no idea of Grotty's history, riding Joey on her own was a big deal for Grotty. It's probably only the tenth time that she's ever ridden him, and she has only ever ridden him before, with other people with her; so for a nervous rider, this decision was huge, and Grotty was really proud of herself, and Joey. It's the first step towards getting Grotty back on her own sharp, slightly-nutty, much littler horse...

Note to readers: For the avoidance of any doubt, every character in this blog is Baggy! No Baggy was harmed in its writing, although some of them get pretty confused!

Animal therapy

Maybe it's because it gets dark so early at this time of year, but Baggy seems to be permanently tired. The pooch still needs to get out though, so Furry Mama wrapped Baggy up and headed to the beach.

Yesterday it was overcast and raining, so Baggy wore loads of layers to keep warm. Today it was blue skies and sunshine, so she ditched a couple of the layers. Clever Bird has realised belatedly that it would probably be a better plan to check the weather forecast, rather than looking out of the window! Yesterday was mild, and Baggy was boiling hot, giving Hormonal Hannah extra back-to-back hot flushes; today on the other hand was seriously chilly - despite appearances, and Baggy was cold. Clever Bird has reminded Furry Mama that it is December, and that clear skies at this time of year generally means that it is cold!

Not that Pepper cared, he still had a swim to cool himself down. Furry Mama walked the length of the beach, while Creative Clara picked up sea glass, and what seems to be a tiny piece of amber, in between picking up the pooch's ball.

Baggy had her cappuccino, while the pooch gave her the 'evils', to make her get a move on and get back onto the beach. By the time they'd walked back to the pier where Billy Bob Jalopy campervan was parked, the melancholy that seems to be overwhelming Hormonal Hannah had lifted, so Baggy decided to take Grotty Groom to see her Boy.

As Baggy drove to the yard, Pepper curled up and went to sleep, and Baggy started talking to herself. Now she does this a great deal Baggees. Clever Bird thinks that it's because she spends way too much time on her own, but it's also a way of rehearsing conversations. Naturally this concerns the pooch rather a lot, so he instantly woke, and tilted his head while he stared at Furry Mama. 

'Sorry Peps. I'm just talking to myself.'
'Dats wot I thorts mum, but iss not normal.'
'I'm trying to calm myself.'
'Iz my job. See I puts my head on your leg. 'S'okay now.'
'Thanks baby. Go back to sleep.'

It's every time that Baggy drives to see the horses: she starts to get anxious, her heart rate increases, she gets hot and panicky and feels physically sick. It's irrational and annoying and it prevents Grotty Groom from going, but Clever Bird prevented Baggy from taking the turning to go home and carried on to the yard.

She didn't stay there for long. Just long enough to groom Wesley and put some plaits in his mane, and to give him and Joey some treats. But at least she went, because as she has done for the past week, she was tempted not to, even though she adores the lad.

Grotty really does want to get that routine of going daily started, even though Hormonal Hannah still has a massive mental block over it. But she needs to get on with it, because the cold weather is demonstrating that Baggy is not getting any younger! The arthritis in her knees becomes more apparent in the cold, so if Grotty plans on riding again, she needs to do so sooner rather than later. Life is far too short to prevaricate...

Note to readers: For the avoidance of any doubt, every character in this blog is Baggy! No Baggy was harmed in its writing, although some of them get pretty confused!

It's time for positivity all round.

Creative Clara has been taking a few days off from blogging, because frankly she has been rather in despair since her last blog! She and Clever Bird have been upset by the aftermath of the British General Election and haven't known quite how to respond. The overwhelming win by the conservatives, came as zero surprise to Clever Bird. The moment that they were the only party promising to deliver Brexit, it was obvious that they would succeed. As Clara said in her previous blog last March, ( http://baggybodysback.blogspot.com/2019/03/putting-world-to-rights.html ), the silent majority were always going to back the decision that they made in the referendum, as soon as they got the opportunity to. Clever Bird cannot understand how anyone would think differently. The government asked whether the people thought that Britain should leave the European Union; they said that Britain should. The people who voted to leave, were then ignored, called every name under the sun, made to feel that they were idiots who knew no better, patronised, and told, 'that of course they would change their minds once they knew the 'true' facts.' 

But how is anyone, ever going to know the 'true' facts about anything as huge, important and complex as running a country? Even the people that run it, only know part of the picture - their part that they are directly involved in; the bigger picture is managed by thousands of people: politicians, civil servants, Lords, local government representatives, advisors, consultants, all contributing their expertise. And as with the referendum, this latest general election seemed to be promoted on all sides by negative propaganda. Clever Bird just cannot understand, staunch supporters of whichever party, shared nothing except negative facts about the opposition on their social media. 

Instead of, 'Vote for whoever, because they will deliver x,y and z brilliant policies,' it was always, 'If you vote for whoever, you are wrong, wrong, wrong, and an ignorant whatever.' The election is now over, and yet the hatred and vitriol seems to have got worse, rather than better. Friends and family are threatening to disown each other and end relationships, total strangers are merrily slagging each other off in public, it's awful, and Hormonal Hannah can't handle it. What's more, Clever Bird doesn't understand how anyone expects to sway someone else's opinion on anything, let alone something as emotive as which political party they vote for, by calling them every name under the sun, and telling them that they are wrong.

Freda Fretter just prays that friends can remain friends, families can continue to respect that they may not agree on everything, but that they are still family, and the people who run Britain, can stop slagging each other off for long enough to look after the country. Rant over. And apologies Baggees for discussing politics at all. It's not something that Clara likes to do in this blog, which is supposed to be a lighthearted account of Baggy's days, but it's hard to ignore the current state of the country that Baggy loves, when even a woman in the vets thought that it was okay to start laying into the receptionist about how anyone who voted for the current government is wrong, wrong, wrong, and an ignorant whatever. And people wonder why the majority remain silent.

Clever Bird would like to think that over the Christmas holidays, friends and family can set their political differences aside, and work together to make the world a better place!

Meanwhile, Baggy still isn't feeling 100%. It's been a struggle to persuade her to get out-and-about. But the pooch needs his exercise, so she has been walking him. He however, has skinned his back pads again, so yesterday Furry Mama put his little boots on him.

He did a walk from the comedy selection of walks, until Furry Mama decided to risk letting him off lead in Halesworth park, and threw the ball for him. The pooch instantly forgot that he had boots on...

... and chased his ball.

Once he'd realised that he could run in them, he started to walk normally!

Travelling at this time of year in Billy Bob Jalopy campervan is not quite as comfortable. Forty-year-old campers, don't exactly have modern heating - more accurately, they don't really have any heating, so Baggy has a solution for herself:

And for her pooch:

And having made it home from the beach in the cold camper, the house with its new heating, is also cold! So British Gas returned for the third time last Friday, and Hormonal Hannah had a bit of a meltdown at the engineer who arrived. He was a good guy though, and he spent time explaining how the system works to The Domestic Goddess. Having bled a couple of the radiators, he explained how the individual thermostats on the radiators worked; they measure the air temperature above them. The air temperature that gets hot quickly, when the thermostat is hidden under a curtain and behind the sofa! So as the engineer spoke to his boss about the bedroom radiators that are attached to nothing except 300-year-old wattle-and-daub, The Goddess rearranged the sitting room (again).

Once more a sofa is blocking a door, but for some reason, this time Hannah rather likes it. And the pooch is enjoying pretending that he's a cat, sitting on the back of the moved chair.

Freda Fretter is just hoping that the engineer who will be coming this Friday to move the bedroom radiators so that they are safe, is not one of the incompetent ones who did the work in the first place...

Note to readers: For the avoidance of any doubt, every character in this blog is Baggy! No Baggy was harmed in its writing, although some of them get pretty confused!

Cast your vote.

Baggy was up with the sparrows, (well those ones that like a bit of a lie-in that is), and straight round to the Polling Station. Pepper Pooch joined Baggy in the village hall to help her put her cross in a box. Fortunately, Baggy did remember to take her reading glasses in with her, so that she didn't accidentally vote for the wrong lot. Cross marked, Baggy left, wondering why exactly she had bothered when the same party has been in power in Baggy's constituency for the last fifty years (at least); but if everyone thought like that...

The pooch was delighted when he realised that Baggy wasn't driving him and Furry Mama straight home - they were on the beach by 9.30. It was cold. Not that this stopped Pepper from going into the sea. Furry Mama on the other hand was seriously chilly, as she walked straight into the wind, eyes streaming with sand blasting her face. Every time she threw the ball into the wind it flew about five yards, so she decided to throw it behind her instead - it then went about thirty yards. Happy pooch! It was all so much more pleasant, when they turned round and headed back away from the harbour, and the wind was helping the ball, and Baggy along!

Quick cappuccino to warm Baggy up, while Furry Mama tucked Pepper up in his towelling drying coat. He needed it - it's surprising how fast he can go from panting like a train, from his exertions, to shivering because he's been swimming in the freezing North Sea and is then standing in a cold wind. And how cute does he look Baggees?

As they headed back to Billy Bob Jalopy campervan, Furry Mama wondered what it feels like to swim in the North Sea at this time of year, bearing in mind that it's pretty blooming cold in the height of summer! Then she saw this sign:

She can't help thinking that it would be rather a fun thing to do, to swim in the sea on Christmas Day! Maybe next year!

Grotty Groom was disappointed when Baggy told her that there was no time to go and see the Boys, but The Domestic Goddess had got British Gas coming at some point between noon and six to fix yet another leak from the new heating. And as she wants it all checked over, she needed to make the house look vaguely cleaned!

That done, Creative Clara decided to get wrapping!

It's the first time that Baggy has been truly excited about Christmas, probably since she was about five! Yes, she's enjoyed Christmas every year since she's been with her lovely number one furry husband, but only once it's arrived - this year she's been looking forward to it for weeks! 

The pressies are under the tree! Now she just has to stop Calum from opening them before the big day - although Clever Bird thinks that she might let him open one early...



Note to readers: For the avoidance of any doubt, every character in this blog is Baggy! No Baggy was harmed in its writing, although some of them get pretty confused!

Bucking stupid.

Clever Bird couldn't decide whether she was disappointed or furious today with the environmental activists. How is it okay for Extinction Rebellion activists to vandalise public and private property? Just because their graffiti (because that's what it is), looks neat and official, does not make it okay! In beautiful, historic Southwold, these paint-sprayed logos are appearing all over the place. These ones are on the windows of the public loos by the pier.

But there are lots more about. They've been sprayed on pavements outside the loos by the harbour, and on the boarding around a building site, and they are just the ones that Baggy has noticed.

In the summer there were messages painted on the actual harbour wall, to 'Save the environment.' Yes great; let's all try and do that! But how does vandalising the planet help to get that message across? It's not as if time, money and heaven alone knows how many chemicals are going to now have to be used to remove this graffiti is it? Idiots! It's not even getting the message across in Clever Bird's opinion. Those particular loos have been flooding for years during the winter high tides, as they're about ten feet from the beach; so most people will probably think they are official warning signs of the 'don't park here' variety. 

Here's a thought - why don't the vandals who are running around (or worse yet - driving around), spray-painting coastal towns, get themselves down onto the beach instead, and pick up plastic? 

Apologies - rant over.

Grotty Groom decided to do a bit of work with the Boy Wessles on the way home. Of course, Clever Bird got the timings all wrong; she arrived at noon aka, lunch time. Just as Grotty wandered out of the tack room, bridle and lunge line in hand, she heard the horses calling. Not for her of course, but for their lunch! 

Clever Bird can't decide whether Wesley was annoyed or delighted, when Pauline gave him some carrots instead of his usual feed, but they barely hit the sides. Grotty decided to take him down to the indoor school, for a little wander around. She tried to keep Baggy's heart rate down, by singing Christmas songs on the way down the track, as Wesley gawped at everything and snorted loudly.

Once Baggy had managed to open the heavy school door, with Wesley resting his chin on her shoulder, they wandered in. Grotty's plan was to walk around the school for a while, then take the Boy back to his stable. This was a good plan, and Wesley quite happily wandered along behind his mum. The only downside with that, being that he was so laid back that he was sniffing the hoof prints of all his stablemates, and virtually stepping on the lunge line in the process. So Grotty decided to up the anti a little, and actually lunge him. (For the non-horsey amongst you Baggees, this means letting him work at the end of the 20-foot-ish line, rather than walking with him on a short line).

Clever Bird decided that this would be good for Wesley, as standing in the stable for most of the day does cause his sheath to swell - a bit of more active walking would help with that. Wesley wasn't convinced that he wanted to leave his mum's side, and stuck to Grotty like glue. Grotty borrowed a lunging whip that was resting on the school wall.

'Come on Wessles - go out. I know it's been a while, but you know what to do.'
'If you really wantz!'
'Good boy. Walk on.'
'Iz a bit bored mum.'
'Good lad.'
'Still not feeling it.'
'Walk on.'
'Nah! Bored! I going faster.'
'Oh, you fancy trotting do you?'
'Much better.'
'Wow! That's quite a trot. You do look well. Good lad. Whoops! Mind the cavaletti poles!'
'No! Itz fun. See I can just - oops - that was harder than I thortz, but I did it.'
'Now walk.'
'Must I? Okayz!'
'Good boy. And... stand.'
'Rightho. I is coming in for a pat.'
'No. Stay out. Good boy. Walk on.'
'Boring! I trots.'
'Wow, you are feeling well. Now don't over do it. Steady!'
'But look wot I can do!'
'Ah! No Wesley! Whoa!'

As Grotty watched Wesley throwing in some massive fly bucks, she wondered how many of them she had 'sat' over the years.

'And walk.'
'You iz boring me mum. I just needs to stretch a bit.'

A couple more bucks, had Freda Fretter wondering why she hadn't made Grotty put her riding hat on, and Baggy's heart rate shooting up.

'Whoa Wes!'
'Boring - but okayz, I will.'
'Good lad. Now let's do the other rein shall we?'
'Ooooo goody. I haz quite a few more bucks in me stillz.'

As Wesley trotted, then bucked a bit more, Grotty grinned at her Boy. Grotty knew that he was just being exuberant, and letting off a bit of pent-up energy. She was in no danger at all, as the fly-bucks were all directed away from her at the full extent of the lunge line. Had he wanted to, he could easily have pulled the line out of her hands and hurtled off around the school, but he didn't want to.

'Course not mum. I iz a good horse. I just wanted to stretch.'

Grotty is so glad that Hormonal Hannah is in a good place and not preventing her from spending time with her beloved horse...

Note to readers: For the avoidance of any doubt, every character in this blog is Baggy! No Baggy was harmed in its writing, although some of them get pretty confused!