Category Archives: Community

Posh Pedro and his Party

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As a special request – you know who you are! – I have included another post about Pedro the Spanish Wonder Dog.

I took a photo of him today, outside, with the sun on his back, wearing his rather tasteful Birthday Bandana. Pedro says Hola! and thanks ever so for the party and the fabulous prezzies. I think his favourite gift was a bumper size pack of Gravy Bones.

Mmmmmm. Ewwwwww. Quite revolting!

Welcoming Pedro has been a fabulous, rewarding, entertaining, lovely experience. Everyone tells us how lucky we are.

He is a rescue dog with no issues. He has lovely manners, is very sociable, with an excellent sense of humour. He isn’t demanding or needy, is ever so obedient, and most charming of all, Pedro is a demonstrative, loving hound. His favourite pastime is to hop up on the sofa (nawty!), and gently nudge you with his soft little snout until you stop reading, typing, chatting or snoozing. He will then put a paw on your shoulder whilst you rub under his chin or stroke his ginger ears. He loves that. If you stroke his ears long enough he goes into a little trance and eventually keels over and falls asleep sprawled over your knee.

I’m struggling to remember what life was like Pre Pedro. Mud free. Dog hair free. Smelly soggy toy free. A bit empty?

I’d love to hear your experiences, do you have a rescue puppy?

Does your dog have a wardrobe to match Pedro’s?

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6 Comments

Filed under Community, Dogs, Dogwalking, Lifestyle, Pets, Writing

Hiatus

It’s possible the more observant amongst you may have noticed a recent blogging hiatus.

I moved house.

HURRAH!

Now I live near here:

Shropshire Union Canal

Shropshire Union Canal

 

And take the dog for walks here:

Pedro at Wharton Locks

Pedro at Wharton Locks

In the countryside. Proper rural. With mud and tractors and a real pub.

And I can see the stars at night. So many stars. In a vast inky sky.

I love it.

Where is your favourite dog walk?

And if you don’t have a little canine pal, where is your favourite walk that involves a proper pub?

6 Comments

Filed under Cheshire, Community, Dogwalking, English Countryside, Tarporley

Dream On

 

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My house is currently on the market.

For Sale. On the crest of the housing market boom. In the bubble.

Hubble bubble toil and trouble.

There’s an offer on the table. HOORAH. It’s a paltry offer. BOO.

Meagre. Scanty. It wouldn’t even buy me the chimney stacks on the Old Parsonage. The pretty, perfect Parsonage with its pilasters and pediment, its Flemish bricks and fossil finials. I want to live here. In a real life Doll’s House, with its sexy symmetry and glamorous garden. Why can’t I live here? Why shouldn’t I aspire to neo-classical neatness and Georgian Gorgeousness?

Because, peeps, because I suffer from the joint diseases of  impecuniosity and proletarianism. I wasn’t born with a silver spoon shoved where the sun don’t shine. All I’ll inherit is a very dubious Ercol dining suite. But one can dream, and one can pretend, which is why we ended up at The Old Parsonage in Arley, Cheshire, last Sunday.

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The National Garden Scheme – Yellow Book –  features gardens in the UK not normally open to the public. Perfect if you are nosey like me.

Or like plants.

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Or flowers.

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Or afternoon tea.

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Or quirkiness.

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Or ponds.

 

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Not so perfect if you are moving house and have ridiculous delusions of grandeur. Sitting on the terrace of a garden bulging with begonias and poppies and peonies and roses and putting off the evil hour when you have to leave through the quaint little gate in the quaint little hedge and return to your not so quaint little house on a not so quaint little street in a positively un-quaint Northern Town.

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Dream on.

12 Comments

June 4, 2014 · 8:05 pm

Cornwall – Week 1 – Minority Status – One Lick is Never Enough

 

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So following on from a very successful trip to North Wales, where – hold the front page – IT DID NOT RAIN ONCE! We decided to chance our arm with another staycation and head for Cornwall.

Which is a VERY VERY VERY long way away. 362 miles, and 6 hours 15 minutes to be precise.

Kernow, (Cornish for Cornwall my lovers) is a Celtic Nation.

The Corns, Kernovians, Cornishers (?) were proudly celebrating, having just been awarded minority status.

This means the UK has promised to protect the rights of minority groups to “enjoy their own culture, to use their own language, to establish their own schools… and practise their own religion”.

I thought I’d share some of this culture, which we certainly enjoyed, oh yes my handsome:

Breakfast, started off healthy, sadly this didn’t last long:

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As the rather delicious smoothies were washed down with:

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Followed by pudding, from this Michelin Starred Ice Cream Van:

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‘One lick is never enough’ – states the flourish on the van door, and it wasn’t, leaving a disappointed dog:

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So, after a quick walk/stroll/amble along the South West Coast Path spotting ship wrecks at Coverack:

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It was time for refreshments – Cornish Afternoon Tea – jam goes on first, then cream in Cornwall:

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Well, that filled a hole, but having arrived back in Falmouth, we decided Fish and Chips might be in order for supper. However, first we bought beautiful bread from this bang – on bakery:

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Before joining the queue here at the Best Chippy I’ve been to since the last one I went to:

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Now, I know in Glasgow, Deep Fried Mars Bars are de riguer, but here in Kernow, the more discerning diner goes for the Deep Fried Creme Egg.

And on that note, I’m signing off and heading for my hand bag where there should still be some Indigestion Tablets lurking.

Kernow + Culture = One Lick is Never Enough!

Week 2  – Minority Status – to follow.

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Filed under Artisan, Community, Cornwall, Culture, Dogwalking, English Countryside, food, Musings, National Trust, sea, travel, Writing

Windy Wales Weekend with Windmills

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Forgive me, I haven’t been in touch for a while.

I’ve been abroad, over the border, across the water.

To Wales. For the Weekend.

Wow. Not a Washout. We enjoyed sunshine. Warm, dry, crinkly-eyed sunshine.

It’s worth writing about, because it’s the first time I’ve been to Welsh Wales for many years, having sworn never again – after two or three soggy, sodden, torrential, miserable visits in a row – would we venture into the land of Barabrith, Laverbread and Leeks.

We’ve all been there, flicking through the glossy Travel Section, pausing over some quaint Fisherman’s Cottage, or Shepherd’s Retreat. Or Drover’s Den.

What fun! Log burners, and Scrabble, and walks along the beach…

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The reality is the log burner spews out the cheap wet hunks of whatever, bought from the petrol station, and Scrabble ends in tears, too much cheating, too few vwls, and walks along the beach are tricky in Force 9 hail storms.

NO INTERNET. NO FOOTY ON SKY.

NO GARLIC/ROCKET or Organic Ice Cream. No Villa Maria.

Back to basics. But who wants basics? On holiday? Who wants to be wet, and cold and somewhere else?

So this weekend was a gamble. An outside chance. And it galloped home. I’m even thinking about booking again. But the possibility of four consecutive days of sunshine is remote.

Whoaaaa.

For the time being, I’ll look at my photos and smile – warmly – inwardly, and share two or three.

 

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So no bijouterie or beautiful bits and bobs today.

PoshPedlar’s been in Wales.

4 Comments

Filed under Artisan, Community, Culture, English Countryside, Musings

The Co-operative – here for you for life

I met a lady from far away, whom, whilst showing me her wares, (a cardboard suitcase oozing vintage scarves) whispered I should visit a market in a Northern town.

Two scarves (one polka dot polyester, one lilac silk) and 47 miles later I park here:

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Hope Mill. Or rather Hope Mi.l, according to the sign on the fir green door, not so much dark and satanic as dank and sagging.

The smell was overwhelming, growing stronger as I paced towards the bustle of the Market Hall.

Fish and Chip Shops. Attacking from three different angles. Enough vinegar to pickle the whole town.

Stalls set out in a square grid. Anything from armless Action Men to rampant bronze lions. With a great deal of CD’s, chipped plates and Chinese fakery in between. But it was good. Interesting. Very busy, and shouty. Lots of activity; banter, buying, bartering. I bought. Earrings, cufflinks and two bulbs of smoked garlic. I put back a Losol jug. Which I now regret of course.

It began to rain. I asked a woman with dreadlocks and creamy cappuccino skin to suggest a decent cafe.

And did she:

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The Bear. Deli downstairs, eatery upstairs via a staircase Scarlett O’Hara wouldn’t sniff at. Was once The Co op, when once the Co op stood for Caring and Sharing. Unlike now. Help yourself why don’t you?

Pink lemonade in a silly ballon and celeriac soup in a bowl with basil and bread like this:

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They like their chow in this Northern town. And they’re happy to share it.  The ‘Incredible Edible’ project plants orchards and vegetables in unused spaces around the town. For everyone to partake. Cherry trees in the car park, and flocks of herbs along the canal.

What a marvellous idea. Prettify brown sites, rally a community, eat your greens.

Simple. Cooperative.

 

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April 12, 2014 · 9:21 am