12 December 2017


Once upon a time I had a beautiful dream. I dreamed of white rabbits … fluffy, cuddly ones with pink eyes. There is an old saying that ‘Friday night’s dream, Saturday told, is bound to come true be it ever so old.’ Well, I didn’t have long to wait ‘cause the dream was on a Friday and I blabbed the next day.

Having already explained the dream to young son over breakfast, we got ready to go out shopping. We had finished the essential part of the expedition and were walking to the bus back home when I suddenly stopped and looked in amazement at the local pet shop. There in the window, frolicking for all the world to see, were two white rabbits with pink eyes. Unbelievable! This, I thought, was definitely an omen. Since the sighting had broken the dream there was nothing for it but to go into the shop and buy a rabbit. Yeah, right!

I never realised I was gullible until that day. Two young rabbits, a hutch and food were purchased when the shopkeeper said they were the last and ‘it would be a shame to part them’. Yeah, right!

Only later did I find out that it’s very difficult to tell a buck from a doe when they’re young.

But gullibility aside, Jon and I began to enjoy our rabbits. I bought books and did a study and discovered that buck and does should be separated before they were old enough to breed. Well that was okay since they were only young rabbits!

I used to like a lie in on a Sunday as that was a no-work day but not long after we’d purchased the little dears I was rudely awakened by young son crying because one of the rabbits was covered in blood. You’ve guessed it, Mommy rabbit had given birth. Heaven help her, she was only a nipper herself!

Remembering the bit in the book about the buck being a cannibal at heart and the added advice to get him away from the doe before he could start eating his youngsters, and definitely get him away from the doe so that further sexual activity could be avoided, I shot out of bed, raced outside, opened the hutch and grabbed the buck by the ears. We shut him in the outside shed and, yeah, you guessed it, we popped out to buy another hutch. But that wasn’t until I’d seen the babies. Aaaaah so cute.

So peace reigned once again in Valerie’s household, that is until I was roused by young son to tell me that Mom had given birth again. Seemed I had not been fast enough getting the male rabbit out of the hutch. He must have performed even as she gave birth. And I always thought jokes about breeding rabbits was an exaggeration. Yeah, right!

Then there was the day the buck escaped from his hutch. I’d only gone there to refresh his food and the minute the door opened he was off after his Missus who was conveniently eating grass on the lawn. It was a long time before I caught him and even then I wasn’t sure if I’d captured the buck or the doe … if only I’d had the foresight to put an identifying collar on the wretched sex-mad animal.

This was, of course, a long time ago and I can’t remember how many young we had altogether, but believe me there were A LOT.
Naturally I had to find homes for the babies … couldn’t possibly keep them all. So I put a notice on the staff notice board at work. X number of Baby Rabbits for Sale, good homes wanted, or words to that effect. Say the number was 12, within the hour someone had multiplied it to 24, and then another bright spark changed the figure to 48 … and so on. It was the joke of the office. Some wise guys offered sexual advice for rabbits and one recommended consulting the Brook Street Bureau. You can imagine, can’t you, the bawdy tones used by the male employees? Ladies were a bit more circumspect but even they bordered on the unthinkable! One thing I will say, though, the entire episode lifted the spirits of the ordinary working man … and woman.

I did sell the baby rabbits; For what seemed like an age I was transporting the damn things all over town but believe me my strength was waning along with my love of rabbits. In the end I was obliged – out of desperation - to sell the randy buck, hutch and all, and was left with just Mommy rabbit who eventually died of old age.

So if ever you dream about rabbits on a Friday night I beg you either to keep the dream to yourself or ensure you stay away from pet shops the following day; as the saying goes ‘Friday night’s dream, Saturday told, is sure to come true be it ever so old.’

10 December 2017

View from the windows

It is years since we had such a snowfall. I'd almost forgotten what snow felt like. 



And not a wheel mark in sight
Fortunately it is Sunday so most people won't have to go to work, but I pity those who do!

Charlie won't go out and neither will I, but I remember when my labradors couldn't wait to gambol in the snow. They loved it. 

Come on folks, admit it ... when did you last gambol in  fresh snow?

08 December 2017

Walking with assistance!

When Joe and I bought the bungalow, we didn’t consider the fact that it was on a hill. On the contrary, the ability to look over rooftops and see fields was rather appealing and for almost thirty years it has been a joy to live here. However, times they are a’changing. I mean, what’s a hill when able people want to walk up or motorists drive. For motorist – read ME.

Problems started by getting rid of the car. I took everything for granted when I could just hop in the car and drive short or long distances.  However, driving the car was becoming a worry. With all the mad hat drivers on the road these days I felt scared whenever I drove on busy roads. That and the prospect of a load of bills coming through the door after Christmas made me think twice about staying mobile. Insurance was high, road tax was reasonable because my car was diesel driven.

For years diesel was regarded as environmentally friendly and motorists’ car tax bills were drastically reduced. Even so, added to the insurance, AA cover for breakdown assistance, compulsory garage bills, I was looking at some heavy expenditure. Seriously though, if I thought I could carry on driving I would have paid the lot.

It was time to face facts. It is compulsory for me to go out and getting rid of the car meant I could take taxi cabs everywhere. In my opinion it should work out cheaper.

It is time to face the hill. So far I have tried three times and made it but only once did I venture as far as the corner shop, which is quite a distance away for those who have walking difficulties. At this point I must reveal that it’s not a great distance to walk but it does hamper folk like me. Goodness, I remember the days when I walked the hill two or three times a day when taking the dogs out for their walks. How I wish those days were back again.

I have a couple of walking aids, inherited from an aunt and kept as a ‘just in case’. One was a four-wheel shopper 
and the other a three-wheel shopper. 
I like the latter best but it’s not so good on hills and the front wheel finds potholes which means I must haul it out. The one with four wheels just wants to go one way and hates corners. 
Yesterday I ventured out with a single cane and did better. Next door neighbour stopped and offered a lift, but I turned her down on the grounds that if I don’t persevere I will never master the damned hill.

I haven’t been out today because of the snow! Maybe I should buy another car!!!!!

06 December 2017


…..and the news is that my phone has been found. 

I was informed by Apple on my ex-Yahoo email account, no longer used by me but which is very good at imparting such news. 

My view aside, the news was given by email on phone and computer and I was given the address where it was found and where it now is. It was useful being given the address which is nowhere near where I live, but now that I use taxis it will be easy to find. If the driver gets lost I can always check with Google. 

Everything is so easy these days, don’t you think, and having a phone makes everything easier. I wonder if the lost and found phone (when collected) will be as useful as the one I have in my pocket right now.

You can always rely on Yahoo to accept scam messages. It is one of the reasons I moved to Google.