The Naming Ceremony!

First of all, thanks to everyone who read my guest's post this week, Pegasus Pedals!
If by any chance you missed it, please have a read - that man is going places on his bicycle.
Literally. And for a good cause.

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And more thanks!
Thank you dear Readers, for the many and various suggestions you kindly offered when I appealed for help in naming the Golden Princess.

I have now had a long chat with her Imperial Highness.
We sat in the sunshine and discussed the matter in depth. Napoleon, who finds being an Emperor quite tiring, was having one of his regular naps nearby.

Napoleon gets very tired

'It's high time you chose your name,' I said. 'Everyone is waiting with baited breath.'
She looked unmoved by this admonition and ate some more grass.
She loves grass.

The Princess didn't appear to be listening

'Here is the list,' I continued. I wasn't at all sure I had her full attention. 'Eugenie, Zarina, Orianna, Sheba, Aurelie, Constanza, Beatrice, Christabella, Grace, Countess Markievicz, Cleopatra, Charlotte, Christina, Elizabeth, Orla, Gwendoline, Pauline, Gilda, Titania and Beauharnais. There's also -' I hesitated and then ploughed on: 'Chickadee, Edna, Dolly and Mrs Smith.'

I was slightly out of breath, but happy to see that she had stopped eating at last and was listening intently.

'Yes, those will do nicely,' she said and turned to walk away.

'You can't have them all!' I protested.
'Why not?' she asked. 'Princesses always have lots of names.'
'Empress...'Napoleon spluttered in the background. He had obviously woken up. 'Not just Princess. Empress. Always be an Empress to me...'
She ducked her head coyly at this tribute and Napoleon crowed loudly to cover his embarrassment. 'Dolly,' he squawked thoughtfully. 'Rather like Dolly.'
'Dolly?' I exclaimed. 'But what about Eugenie? Cleopatra? Something with a royal ring!'

The Princess started eating the grass again, and it seemed that as far as she was concerned, the conversation was over.
'Twenty four names is all well and good,' I said. 'But what am I going to call you every day?'
We had by now attracted an attentive audience.

An attentive audience

 

The Golden Princess thought for a moment, her head on one side.

'Mrs Smith,' she said at last.
Napoleon uttered a strangled noise. 'Mrs Smith?' He ran after her, frantically flexing one wing. 'But Empress...!' he repeated, faint but persisting, and then he stopped. 'What about Dolly?' I heard him say tentatively. 'Rather like Dolly,'

Napoleon ran after Mrs Smith

I left them to it. I know when I've been put in my place. Evidently we are not yet on first name terms.
Mrs Smith it shall be. And prizes will be awarded accordingly.
Perhaps one day I'll be permitted to call her Eugenie Zarina Orianna Sheba Aurelie Constanza Beatrice Christabella Grace etc etc...

However, in the privacy of the boudoir, it sounds like she's going to be Dolly.

The Forgiveness of Dogs

Dear Reader - I have missed you!

I am sorry to say that I've been ill, and am still not 'a wellie' as we say in this house!
Husband's flu has been virulent, brutal and resilient. It has not - so far - responded in any meaningful way to the vast quantity and array of drugs I have been throwing hand over fist at it. It has, moreover, morphed into flu + nasty cough, which is just typical. I'm starting to sound as if I've been on 60-a-day since birth.

In the midst of my flu, and with deep reservations, I got on a plane and went to England for 5 days.

Not a good idea, I hear you cry. And how right you are!

I didn't see much of lovely Suffolk. My kind brother took this for me, as I was missing out on all the pretty blossom bedecking the picturesque cottages. Thank you, kind brother

I did ask advice of several people - including a pharmacist - who all urged me to go, assuring me that the worst was probably over, especially the contagious bit.. (I had, after all, spent many days in bed.)

Anyway, enough of that. Suffice it to say that I am feeling rather sorry for myself, and poor husband, who's  had the dread bug for a whole ten days longer than me, is still not a wellie either.

I didn't see much of lovely Suffolk, but I did see some of my nearest and dearest, which was wonderful.
I just hope I haven't passed anything nasty on to them.
Including my brother who sweetly drove all the way from Cheshire for my visit - that self-same hero of the hour who heretofore did battle with the inner workings of my blog, slaying the dragon lurking midst my feedburner in fearless but lengthy single combat. (Unarmed.)

Another pretty Suffolk cottage.  Thank you again, dear brother

Travelling makes you feel even worse, especially when you have to deal with the petty dictatorship that is airport security and Ryanair. The former includes having to remove half your clothes and endure pat-downs, the latter, lack of information and delayed flights. Also, now that Ryanair has made it virtually bankrupting to take luggage, the aircraft sits on the tarmac for an additional twenty minutes while cabin staff try and force everyone's hand luggage into overhead lockers that are already full.

Ryanair is not good for people who are suffering from any form of stress. Especially flu.

However, my ghastly return journey was all worthwhile. Not one, but three smiling faces welcomed me on arrival back home. Husband had brought the dogs to the airport.
Aren't dogs wonderful? They never say: 'Where've you been? Why've you been gone so long? Who said you could go anyway?'
They just say: 'IT'S SO NICE TO SEE YOU!'
Unlike cats, they are instantly and endlessly forgiving.
They've never said a word about all the days when I was in bed and they didn't get a walk.
They looked sad, but they didn't say anything.
And they don't make loud and voluble complaints when breakfast is dished up late.
Or supper.
Unlike the cats.
And the hens.

Oh, the forgiveness of dogs!

Dear dogs

Thank you, dear Reader...

 

Thank you, dear Reader, for taking a moment to visit this small page - this insignificant pinpoint on that great big, tangled web we have woven to cross the divides of time and distance, of the familiar and the unknown, of interest and knowledge, of gossip and speculation, of fact and fantasy. As always, I am so happy to see you, and I want to dedicate these wishes for the New Year to you, wherever you may be, and whatever you may be hoping for.

And while you are here, I want to say how much I have appreciated all the comments you have left on my blog -  they take time and thought. Insignificant (in the scheme of things) as all my ramblings about nothing may be, your comments add up to a great deal of something, so thank you! I would leave replies to each and every one, but it dawned on me some time ago that when I leave a comment on someone else's blog, I never return to see if they have counter-commented, so it felt as if doing so would really be like talking to myself, which in a strange way, this doesn't!

Instead, raise a glass, even if it's just foaming, effervescent, life-giving water, and join me in a toast to all of you - to all of us! Enough of strange and difficult years! Whatever happens in the big wide world, over which we have no control, here's to 2012, and may it be unexpectedly happy and fulfilling! Despite the cloud of international gloom circling the poor old planet - may your dearest wishes come true and your heart be gladdened!

My new year's resolution is to stop listening to the worry-mongerers and concentrate instead on greeting each new day with a smile and an open heart. What's that old chesnut? The past is history, the future a mystery, but today is a gift, which is why we call it the present.
It may be an old chestnut, but each day IS a gift - to make of what we will.






PS: Thankyou everyone who let me know that their friendly cyber mailman was no longer delivering new posts to their email door! I am trying to fix the problem! Please keep me posted on whether I'm winning! (Ha ha!)  

PPS: For those of you who missed it, a bit of inspiration may be just the way to start the year!

Take a moment and enjoy!