Thanksgiving...

Just a brief word about Thanksgiving.
If you were not already aware, here are some facts:
I am British.
I currently live in Alaska.
Alaska is part of the United States.
The United States celebrate Thanksgiving each year.
The British do not.
This does not mean the British are not thankful for what we have, I just mean that this is an American holiday and not a British one, although the original pilgrims who started off this whole thing were people who had left the UK to start a new life in America.....so I suppose in a weird way this is a British holiday? The pilgrims were in a new land, but they had brought their old ways and traditions with them, in much the same way that I have introduced Perfect Husband (who is American) to some of my British ways, ie mint sauce with roast lamb, wearing a poppy on Armistice Day, enjoying a lovely cup of tea with milk and two sugars, learning the finer points of Dr Who, watching the rugby and so on.
Anyway, in Britain Thanksgiving is not celebrated; so if American people would stop asking me that at work, that would be cool.
Even though this is not one of "my" holidays, I still get the day off work, so I'm jolly pleased about that. I shall spend the next four days at home with Perfect Husband, eating, drinking, watching tv and maybe a spot of sale shopping. I shall have Tiny Dog on my lap for as much of these four days as possible, and I shall be very Thankful.
I hope everybody who has something to be thankful for (and that is most of us in the "developed" world, let's face it, despite our constant whingeing about our Iphones not updating properly, and that thing we really wanted being snapped up on Ebay by somebody who beat our highest bid etc) will stop and think about how truly lucky they are this holiday. I hope everyone will donate more, recycle more, want less, and love and look after each other more.
I hope my hopes spread and multiply like the flame from a torch that is picked up and shared around the world.
I also hope Tiny Dog will never be sick in our bed again, like she was last Friday night. She did appear a tiny bit sorry, so I shall be Thankful for that.
However, the thing I am most Thankful for in this life is the two amazing young women that I gave birth to. They light up my life in a way that nobody else can. They are beautiful, kind, funny, fiery young women who make me proud every single day. I would like to say that neither one of them has ever been sick in my bed, unlike Tiny Dog, but this would be a lie. However, as I am busy being Thankful, I won't hold it against them.

A very Happy Anniversary...

Today is the 66th Wedding Anniversary of the Queen and the Duke of Edinburgh. 66 years is no mean feat for any couple, although it does seem that people of the older generation stay married a lot longer than today's crowd, and there are probably many reasons for that. Maybe people today rush to get married because it seems like a good excuse for a new piece of jewellery and a party? Or maybe a lot of the older generation would have got divorced if it had been more accepted back in the day, instead of the "you've made your bed now you must lie in it" attitude that was more prevalent.
Either way, the Queen and her husband are an inspiration to us all in many ways. Yes they have staff to cook and clean for them and more besides, and they certainly don't have the financial worries that most of the rest of us do, but they also have the world watching them, so they have had more pressures than many. Despite this, and despite the ups and downs of their life together, they appear a happy and strong couple. The Queen has done her best to ensure that her husband didn't feel like just an appendage, and he in turn has been a constant support and source of strength to her.
They are both remarkably down to earth people, and don't buy each other extravagant gifts (what could you buy someone who already has a crown anyway?) although I remember when I used to work at Buckingham Palace and my then boyfriend who was a footman had gone to the side door of the palace to collect a bouquet of flowers that had been delivered there. The bouquet was a gift from the Duke of Edinburgh to the Queen and consisted of 100 perfect, beautiful, white roses, and the entire bouquet was about 4 feet in length! I cannot remember now if this was a gift for the Queen's birthday or their Wedding Anniversary, but no matter-How utterly romantic......
They remind me of my own grandparents-they met when my Grandad was 13 and my Gran was 14 and they lived next door to each other. They married during the Second World War and after the war ended, they were only parted when my Grandad died, after 69 years together. "Indian Summer" was their song, and every year on their Wedding Anniversary my Grandad would make my Gran breakfast and bring it to her in bed, and play this beautiful song. For their Golden Anniversary he bought her a beautiful gold bangle and had "Indian Summer" engraved in it.
After he died, I and my mother had gone to stay with my Gran and help her with the arrangements for his funeral. She was choosing music she wanted to be played at the funeral, and of course this song was a must. We found her cd and played it to make sure it worked, and I will never forget hearing this song play for the first time in the cosy flat they had shared together. I was prepared for my Gran's tears, but none came. I looked at her to make sure she was ok, but she was no longer in that room with me. Her physical self was of course, tiny and familiar, the buttons on her blouse done up askew because her vision and her hands are not what they were, but her eyes had a faraway look in them, and I know that in her mind she was in another time and place, in the arms of the man who had loved and looked after her for so many years. Some people never, ever get to experience this kind of love, companionship and support, so those that do should be envied and admired.

So, a very Happy Wedding Anniversary to the Queen and her Duke, and much, much love and admiration for my lovely beautiful Gran, and her clever and handsome husband, my Grandad, much missed by all.

Summer, you old Indian Summer
you're the tear that comes after June times laughter
You see so many dreams that don't come true
Dreams we fashioned when summertime was new
You are here to watch over
Some heart that is broken
By a word that somebody left unspoken
you're the ghost of a romance in June
Going astray, fading too soon...
that's why I say,
"Farewell to you, Indian Summer!"

Walkies!!

So, if I had somehow neglected to tell you already-Alaska is Bloody Cold!!! The cold is horrid; it bites your skin and tries to persuade you against being out in it for longer than ooooh, shall we say 30 seconds at a time?
However, when the sun shines and the sky is blue it's very hard to stay cooped up indoors for the entire weekend. So, on Sunday I decided to take Bindi for a little walk. She enjoys being outside, however she too hates the cold. We both donned our well padded coats and set off. She was doing very well until we reached the corner of our road, approx. 200 yards from the house, and that was more than enough for her tiny Chihuahua feet. We actually have some tiny dog shoes for her, but they seem a contradiction in point because whenever I try putting them on her she either falls over, sticks her back leg out at a 90 degree angle, or refuses point blank to move anywhere, so barefoot she must stay....
Although it was cold, the sunshine and clear sky was making me feel like it would be nice to walk a little further than 200 yards so I decided to have a compromise with my poor tiny freezing dog. I picked her up and stuffed her gently inside my coat, with my arm across my front to support her weight. This seemed to work for both of us, we kept each other warm and both enjoyed being outside in the fresh air.
We were only going around the block, and I was wandering along thinking about what I would do if a moose decided to attack. I was thinking maybe running into someone's driveway and hiding behind their car would probably be a good idea if this happened. Suddenly I heard a noise to my left, and there standing in the trees a little way up the snowy bank was a moose! Oh sh*t sh*t sh*t!!! What if it was in a murderous stomping mood? Dory was in my head singing "just keep swimming, just keep swimming..." although of course I just kept walking as swimming would not have aided me in any way at that moment.
Luckily Bindi was too busy looking the other way to notice the moose, or we may have had problems; she has the typical "small dog syndrome" in that she thinks she can take anything on, and I know she would have tried her best to cartwheel herself free of my coat and most likely annoy the moose enough with her yapping to provoke a fit of stomping.
We moved on, me casting nervous backward glances at the moose, but it decided it preferred eating trees to people at that particular moment, so all was well. We finished our walk and arrived home rosy cheeked and buzzing. Glorious.

Uncharacteristic soppiness!!

I am British. We don't do soppiness, mushiness, or any other kind of emotion. Apart from complaining. We do rather like that one.
However today I am going to get all soppy for a few minutes, then I'll get over myself and retreat into my shell of cool, aloof Britishness, devoid of emotion once more.
The thing is this; I am on my third husband (I'm not actually on him right now, I'm on my chair at work pretending I am working) and so I am more than a little cynical when it comes down to thinking about the future and if you've picked the right one this time etc. As a matter of fact, Perfect Husband asked me once if I thought we'd still be married and in love when we were both old and I replied that I had no idea. He got hurt, but I just meant that nobody can foresee the future so I couldn't possibly answer that question; it wasn't my intention to hurt his feelings but if someone asks me a question I answer it honestly. So poor old Perfect Husband is saddled with a small, eccentric, opinionated, fiery tempered, often grumpy British wife who wears short skirts and far too much makeup. I don't cook but I do clean, and I torture him mentally on a daily basis because I don't tell him what I'm thinking very much and I probably don't tell him I love him enough either, but I do tell him when he spends too much money.
He in return does all the cooking, carries things which are too heavy, picks up all the dog poo in the garden, makes fabulous cocktails, ensures I can listen to British radio stations and finds British tv programmes on youtube (he's now a massive fan of Celebrity Juice, Never Mind the Buzzcocks, The Inbetweeners etc) and generally does all he can to make sure I am happy, cared for, loved, and not too homesick.
Obviously he annoys me intensely too; but I feel that when two people live together this cannot be avoided. We don't agree on everything, we have some pretty heated debates; we both have been known to do the whole "my country's better than your country" thing, although I generally win this one with the mere phrase "Britain has free healthcare so shut up, I win!".......
But I digress. The point is this: yesterday Perfect Husband told me something that made me love him even more, although I probably won't tell him and he doesn't read this blog so he won't know but....
He was at work delivering beer and wine and he was in a cluttered and messy storeroom. He picked up an empty keg to take it back to the warehouse with him, when he noticed something stuck to it. It was one of those horrible sticky mousetrap things, and stuck firmly to it by the last half inch of his tail was a very tiny, very terrified mouse. Perfect husband managed to dislodge the trap and the mouse from the keg, which he then put in his truck. But he couldn't stop thinking about that poor terrified mouse, stuck fast and doomed to die a long and slow death. He went back and spent the next few minutes trying to free it, wondering if it would be simpler to just cut its tail off and hope it wouldn't miss it. However, after a few minutes he found an old trowel in the storeroom and finally managed to scrape the mouse and his whole tail off the sticky trap. The mouse skittered off without a backward glance at his benefactor.
There's a lovely photo here; it's not mine but I think it's very touching and I hope you like it.
And as for you, Perfect Husband.....you are the sweetest, kindest man and I love you for it. But I'm not going to tell you that out loud.

British Bulldog!!

Sadly there are no photos to go with this story- I was simply too far away to get a good one. I could try one of my fabulous drawings but I fear it would not do the story justice. It happened like this:
A couple of weeks ago I was walking home from the bus stop, before the recent snowfall. It was before the clocks went back, dry, still light, a pleasant temperature and the thought of a nice warm house and a glass of wine added to my general good mood. About a hundred yards ahead of me a British Bulldog appeared from a house on the right. You know British Bulldogs; they are those really substantial looking dogs that resemble an end table; solidly built with a short leg at each corner. Anyway, despite the fact that this dog must have weighed more than me it was very nimble (must have been the thought of freedom) and it literally skipped across the road looking very happy. Don't worry, this isn't another dog being hit by a car story; there's no through traffic on this road.
A worried looking teenage boy appeared from the same house and caught up with the dog and tried his best to persuade it back across the road and home safe. Unmoved, both physically and mentally, the dog sat and stared at the boy. The boy grasped the dog by the scruff of the neck, gently but firmly, and started to tug, presumably to encourage the dog to move in the direction of the house. The dog's folds of skin now started to move, although the dog did not, giving it the appearance of someone having their hoodie pulled over their head. The dog remained resolute, wishing to enjoy a few more moments of freedom. As I passed by I gave the teenager an encouraging smile- he had the worried look of someone who was looking after a dog that didn't belong to him, and although it was a gloriously funny sight, I did feel sorry for his predicament. At last the dog got up and moved a few steps across the road; it would return home, but it wasn't going to make it easy.
As I got further away I took one final look back up the road to see that the dog and the boy had now crossed the road and reached the slight grassy bank near the gate of the house-almost home! However the dog, in a final fit of pique, had thrown itself dramatically to the ground, and the poor harassed teenager was now dragging him, slowly but surely up the bank and towards the house by one of its back legs. This did not seem to hurt or bother the dog in the slightest, and as I rounded the corner, giggling to myself and wishing for a zoom lens with which to share this moment with you all, I made eye contact with that dog, and I swear it winked at me!
Okay, after Fabulous Daughter Number One's request, I did a drawing......

Poppy Day.

So this is a serious blog. Today, November 11th is Poppy Day. This is what it's commonly known as in the UK, and the Commonwealth, although it's also called Armistice Day, or Remembrance Day. The first Armistice Day was held in Buckingham Palace in 1919. This is a day to remember all those who fell in World War 1, although these days we think about all those who have fallen in any conflict; sadly the list grows, by the minute it seems. Many other countries have their own version; America calls it Veterans' Day.
We wear a paper poppy to symbolize our support; these poppies were the first flowers to bloom across some of the worst battlefields of Flanders in World War 1, and their bright colour adds a poignant note as we think about all the blood spilt during conflict. These poppies are made and distributed by the Royal British Legion who use all funds raised to support current and former British Military personnel.
The poem "In Flanders Fields", written by a Canadian soldier John McCrae, who had witnessed the death of a friend the day before, and after performing the burial himself, noticed how quickly poppies grew over the fresh graves. He says:

In Flanders fields the poppies blow, between the crosses, row on row,
That mark our place; and in the sky the larks, still bravely singing, fly
Scarce heard amid the guns below.

So I just want to say that today I am wearing my poppy, and I am thinking with emotion and humility of all those that have given their lives so that others may live free. It feels like this world is constantly at war; there is always a fight going on somewhere, precious money being spent on war while others starve and only know poverty.
I am probably not alone in hoping that one day, perhaps tomorrow, the people of this world will just learn to live together. In the meantime I will continue to wear my poppy.

Open your eyes!!

Ok, this is a fairly short one, but seriously WTF?? For those who read yesterday's blog, you will know that Perfect Husband has the rest of the week off work, so instead of my usual bus journey, I have the luxury of being chauffeured to work.
Yesterday, we were waiting at the traffic lights, and I noticed the car in front had a small screen in the back showing cartoons. You may think this is amazing and fantastic-what a gadget!! But it just made me feel sad. Don't get me wrong, I love a bit of telly, but I feel so sad for these children that get ferried to school and back each day in vehicles equipped with these screens. In my day (back when dinosaurs roamed the Earth) we looked out of the windows, read books, played I Spy, or fought with each other in the back of the car. This was our favourite, because it was one of the rare occasions when me and my sister actually agreed on something and were united in our desire to wind our parents up-such fun.
These kids will never know that joy; cocooned in the back of the car, in the darkness, lit only by a cartoon-no conversation with their parents or each other, and for me what was the saddest thing of all, was that all they had to do was tear their eyes away from the screen and look to their right, and they would have seen the sun creeping over the tops of the snow covered mountains, filling the sky with a soft pink and gold glow.

Feeling the Call of Duty....!!!

So it's that time again. For those unaware of that magical gadget called X Box, there is a game called Call of Duty which, in a thrilling and successful feat of marketing genius, gets released each year on a certain date at midnight. Devotees of all shapes, sizes and genders find themselves irresistibly drawn to their nearest stockiest, like zombies drawn to the bloated carcass of a dead cow. My own Perfect Husband is one such devotee. He gives hours of his life to this game. He swears it is a fabulous hobby, but to hear him swearing in a completely different way on a weekend morning, headphones perched atop his head, sweat on his furrowed brow, frustration evident in every syllable, I fail to see this as a satisfactory and enjoyable pastime. Even the dogs escape to the bedroom when he's playing, fearing that the aggression and frustration could somehow be their fault, and if they stay in the same room another minute they will surely ruin their chances of a biscuit later.
Don't get me wrong, it's good to have a hobby and Perfect Husband surely doesn't understand my obsession with perusing the internet in search of sparkly things any more than I understand his obsession with shooting people in a pretend world online with a load of people he's never met. Anyhoo, he had reserved his copy of the precious game, paid in full and even booked the rest of the week off work in order to devote as much time as possible to his new treat. He sadly couldn't complete his purchase at midnight as he was working out of town and knew better than to ask me to stand in for him (too many jokes here about the rest of the Nerds in the queue not knowing what a woman is because they've never seen one....although I do actually believe women play these games too-weird) but he still recalls with pride that one year when he was actually third in line.......
The following day I was pre-warned of the impending disaster when he posted on Facebook about how the edition he had preordered and paid for hadn't come in, how Best Buy had apologized profusely and had given him a $50 gift card as an apology, and how in return he had sulked for the rest of the morning. Whilst I am sure that Perfect Husband kept his fury under control with the skills honed from many years' gaming in realistic Life or Death situations, I had to stifle a giggle and feel so sorry for the beleaguered shop assistants trying to stem the tide of angry Nerds. Let's face it, frustrating though this is, it's hardly akin to starvation or poverty as something that can REALLY ruin your day.
As luck would have it, Perfect Husband called the shop later to see if any copies had miraculously appeared, AND THEY HAD!! Hooray!! The world as he knew it had been restored, plus (result!) he still had the gift card-methinks he will be purchasing a Call of Duty t shirt in the very near future.......
So, that evening me and the dogs escaped to the bedroom to watch a movie while Rebel (or whatever his gaming moniker is) saved the world, once again.
My poor tired soldier climbed into bed in the early hours of the morning, to grab a few hour's hard earned rest before breakfasting on an energy drink, dropping me off at work and starting the fight anew. I have to admit that he did take breaks in order to do the laundry (unless he somehow trained the dogs to do it, but I'm pretty sure neither one of them could reach the controls on the top of the washing machine) and he did refrain from playing that evening. He was forced to have an early night due to his late one the night before, so yet again I was Queen of the Remote Control (sadly I wasted this rare and golden opportunity by watching crap). This morning's breakfast was another energy drink (I am alarmed to see that there are several cans of this poison in the fridge) and as I type this (when I should actually be working, but it's pretty quiet at the moment) he is no doubt deep in battle with an unseen ten year old somewhere across the world......Ladies and Gentlemen, normal service is resumed.