Connections: Windows, Farts and Cheese.

This morning, as my stubby little fingers hovered over the keyboard awaiting a spot of creative brain activity, the word 'defenestration' (in a Belgian Poirot-like accent) popped into my mind.

As I was panning to write about the bacterial farts that create the holes in cheese, I was somewhat surprised.

It's a grand word, I admit, but I was totally at a loss as to what it meant.

I refused point blank to resort to Wikipedia, or some similar site, for a definition and resorted to some good old fashioned brain wracking in order to work out it's meaning.

'I'm a smart chap' I thought. 'I should be able to work this out!'

And I did!

Of course it means the act of throwing someone or something from a window.

Problem solved!

But it begs the question 'why did I think of it in the first place?'

It's not as if the bacteria in cheese - the bacteria that farts, thus creating all those holes - would ever want to throw anything out of a window ... even if there were windows in cheese.

And why would that word pop into my mind in a Belgian accent?

I have no answers, I'm afraid, other than perhaps I'm losing my sanity. After all who in their right minds would contemplate writing an article about cheese full of farty holes? Perhaps that is what pushed me over the edge.

Anyway, it's nice to be back after my short break!

Memory And Kitchen Failings

And so another short holiday comes to an end.

Well, when I say 'Holiday' I do, of course, only mean a week off work.

Embarrassingly, I actually managed to forget that I had last week off at all.  I mean, I could have planned something ... or maybe not. Not with the sick puppy.

Anyway, it rained!

For nearly the whole damned week!

Change of subject now.

Let me tell you about my pie and cake.  Yes!  I can make  pies and cakes. I can also cook some pretty cool meals, if ever you are passing and in need of sustenance.

The pie was an apple and blueberry extravaganza.  Flaky crust and packed with sweet apples and plump, juicy blueberries.

It's a shame that I forgot the blueberries when I went shopping! So it turned into a simple apple and cinnamon pie.

Or would have, if I'd had any cinnamon.

It had apples in it. I swear!

Despite not being what was planned, it was very, very tasty.

And yesterday ... Sunday ... I made a mandarin cheese cake  ... without mandarins, which ... yes, you've guessed it ... I forgot to buy.

So it was quickly adapted to become a lemon cheese cake.

It also tasted really good.

Although it was only a cheese cake because I'd forgotten to put the lemon juice in!

Now, I know what you are thinking. He's getting on in years and his memory is going.

It get's worse.

Well, it would probably be worse, if only I could remember all those things that I remembered forgetting before I forgot them.

My name?  Of course I remember my name!

It's ... er ... begins with a G ... tip of my tongue ... er ...

The Mad Lady

When Sym (my dog) was young I started taking him to Hailey Park (Cardiff) for walks. 

A friend said to me "Watch out for the mad lady! She walks around Hailey Park".

So I was always wary of the "Mad Lady".

We started fostering for Four Paws shortly after that and I used to walk around Hailey Park with another FP fosterer. I asked her if she knew anything about the "Mad Lady" and she replied that she had never heard of any stories about a mad woman wandering around the park.

Then, one day, just after I'd said goodbye the her, I bumped into the friend who had originally warned me about the "Mad Lady". 

He rushed up to me looking somewhat panicked.

"What d'ya think you're doing? Why're you hanging out with the Mad Lady?" he screamed (in a sort of
loud whisper, actually).

Apparently, I'd been walking my dog in the company of the "Mad Lady" for weeks and never realised it!

People know me in the park as "The Cheese Man", at least to my face.

It does make me wonder what they say behind my back though.

It's all a matter of perception, I s'pose!

Dog Pampering

Since Sym he has been ill, he has developed a few funny routines which we have to play along with.

Feeding, for example.

Yes, feeding.  You would think that a dog would immediately and instinctively eat.
Not so with Sym.  He will stand in front of his bowl ... look at it ... look at me ... and complain ("Hrowowow" he'll say).

He won't touch his food until he has had a calming, pre-meal hug.

Yes, we have to give him a hug before he'll eat his food.  No hug ... no eat!

Bedtime is another of his strange rituals.

Usually it's me that puts them out for their last bladder emptying exercise of the day before I lock up and go to bed.  They usually wander around the garden for 15 minutes or so then, as one, they all troop back to the house and head for their beds ... except Sym!

Clover and Sox know what's coming (a 'good night' sausage or piece of cheese) and jump straight into their beds.  Sym, on the other hand, will stand in front of his bed and wait.  When he first started doing this I was a little confused.  I had no idea why he would just stand there and 'Hrowowow' at me.  I tried the comforting hug but it didn't work. He just took his sausage and lay on the floor.

It was purely by chance one evening that I had to straighten his bedding (I think he'd humped it!) and, to my surprise, he jumped straight, settled down and waited for his sausage.

Now, every evening, I have to make his bed before he'll get into it.  Not even a sausage will get him into bed (he's not that easy) if his bed isn't made.

Anyone else got fussy pets?