Sleep Tight Daddy.....

My wonderful Dad and beautiful sister.

One of the reasons I have had an absence from the family home was that my Dad had fallen ill. He had battled illness for so much of his life.
He was born with a blocked portal vein feeding his liver and over time his liver deteriorated because of this. He was prone to internal bleeding and ascites.
This led to increasing poor health.
Around 2-3 years ago he was put forward as a possible candidate for a liver transplant. However, this was not to be. If he could not feed the liver with a healthy portal vein then the operation would never be a success. We were informed that by controlling his condition and the associated symptoms then there was no way they could predict the length of his life. There were just so many ifs and buts.
He spent many years going back and forth to Llandough Hospital in South Wales having his stomach drained. He had built up a rapport with his nurses and doctors. The repeated appointments had become routine for him. Being followed up by a regular endoscopy or colonoscopy. Invasive procedures that had just become a day to day way of life.
In June my youngest sister, Steph got married. Dad was in attendance as the proud Father. Steph was radiant and beautiful. My Dad could not have been more happy and proud of her. I have no doubt many of the family were shocked at how poorly he looked. Even though he was clearly a very sick man we did not know just how little time he had left.
On the Thursday after the wedding he was admitted to hospital for a routine drain. This time, however he would not come home. The fluid in this stomach had become infected in recent months. This in itself had complicated matters.
Over the coming weeks he was to become more poorly until eventually he passed away.

I am sure in the future I will feel able to post more about happy memories and joyful times. But for now I cannot.

All that remains to be said is that My Dad was loved. I miss him everyday.

Books books and more books.

It seems an age since I last posted here.
Here, at the tinyholding we have had a roller-coaster of a few months.
I, myself, have been away, staying with my parent(s).
There comes a time in a child's life when you have to be the adult. Your parents have given their adulthood to raising you and the rest of the family and it is time to return the favour.
It will rarely be a happy occasion that brings this about but it will inevitability happen. Hence a prolonged absence from the tinyholding for myself.
However, more about that later.
Back to life on the ranch.
The house still is still in dire need of expanding walls. Where on earth do we accumulate all this "stuff"?
Have the Mummy and Daddy books been up to no good under cover of darkness? Austen and Shakespear springing forth volumes of Charlie and Lola? Or do they split, amoeba like, in the dead of night? Perhaps they spit out wee little volumes if fed after dark in a gremliesque manner? What ever is happening we do seem to be climbing some sort of literary mountain, unfortunately I don't mean this in a metaphoric sense. We could build a whole new house with the many paperbacks that I hoard.
I know I should be whittling down the library but I just can't part with the written word.
Somewhere, someone had an idea! They then expanded the idea into a dream. They wrote it down, slaving over each word and sentence. It was edited, published bound and illustrated. How on earth am I to put that aside and dispose of other peoples work?
I love books, can you tell?
I have ever encouraged the barefoot babes to follow in my footsteps. But of course no two people are the same. Hence a whole new collection of genres and authors.
I have recently parted with so many children's books that they have simply outgrown.
Board books, touchy feely books, musical books, books with just pictures, books with silly stories, books with simple rhymes, books with clever rhythms and melodic tomes.  Everyone loved and read over and over. If my children take one magical memory from their smaller years I hope it is the melodic tone of their mother reading to them until the drifted off to sleep. Many of the books have found a new home. However, I couldn't part with "snuggle down ducklings".
I have also retained all the hardback beauties that we have sighed over together. Children's classics such as Milly Molly Mandy, Little Alfie, Flower Fairies, Brambly Hedge, Winnie The Pooh and Peter Rabbit.

Then we have the mountain of practical theory books I require. Herbalism, massage, aromatherapy, botany, reflexology, not to mention physiology and anatomy. There are many to help one dispose of pesky insomnia. Wonderful bedtime reading.

Who can resist a craft book? Cross stitch, patchwork, quilting, sewing, painting, spinning, dying, cooking, gardening, all of them requiring a good book to show you the way.

I have come to the conclusions that I will never be able to part with these friends. So the next project? Bookshelves......I wonder if I should buy a book about building them?

While I ponder this conundrum. Spend five minutes looking at this bookish extravaganza !

Phyto Success...

I would like to share my success with you all.
I am now a proud and happy phytotherapist. I even have certificates to prove it.
Quoted from the e-mail sent from the collage,
"Congratulations on completing the final examination for your Master Herbalist Level 5 NCFE Diploma course.
On behalf of the College we have reviewed your performance throughout your course and in line with NCFE regulations, your overall result for the course has been awarded a "DISTINCTION".
It is worth noting that this is the highest achievement you can achieve for this course. Well done on this excellent achievement, your effort throughout the course has been of a very high standard and we wish you all the success for the future."

I'm rather pleased.


Onwards and upwards. I am now a quarter of the way through the Massage diploma.

Poor Maggie RIP

Seems the bloody fox has had his fill again.
Here at the Tinyholding we never did get Maggie to go voluntarily into the eglu at night.
I had warned her that if she didn'g go to bed then the fopx would pay her a visit.....
Late one night last week I was laying in bed (not able to sleep) When I heard and cacophony in the garden.
DD had shut the birds up for the night but had not been able to find Maggie. He had been out there for quite some time with his furrowed brow and his torch. Hwe was justa as determined as he had been all the other nights he had hunted for her. This night, however, she was nowhere to be seen. We feared she had already been taken during the day but couldn't find any evidence.
Eventually we had to call it a night. We just couldn't find her. we were hoping that if she had not been taken she would go to be high up in privit and be fine.
Alas this was not so. DD and I jumped out of bed and DD went out to try to reach her before the fox took her. He was unlucky.

Poor Maggie, you were such a character. We will never forget you!

I *heart* Laugharne.

I was recently booked for a series of tours of Laugharne castle as Lady Dorothy Perrot. she is the 16th century wife of courtier Sir John Perrot. (Rumoured to be both the illegitimate son of Henry IIIV and a pirate to boot). Lady Parrot's parentage is rather grand also as she is the daughter of the Earl of Essex and Lettice Knolleys (one time favourite of Elizabeth I until she married Dudley...ooooh, the scandal!)
Playing such a noble character deserved a fine dress. so the Red Velvet came out to play. But what do you know? Dorothy has not been eating lettuce! It doesn't fit. Not even a little bit! God damn it! Poor old Dorothy had to slum it for the day in some particularly fine blue wool and lace. however, all it not lost as the blue is clearly ahead of it's time by around 20 years. Dorothy is clearly a trend setter.
I have another five bookings and Lady D and I am determined she is either going to be back in her red or have a new posh frock. being that it is always sunny and warm in Laugharne I am thinking I may have to make a new lighter silk dress. (To avoid roasting).
Perhaps a deep forest green with golden underskirt? And fine black french hood to boot?
It's been a long time since I felt so inspired to sew.
I need to get my hand back in for a rather special dress for next year (oooh, teasers!)

Laugharne this year was as sunny, relaxed and beautiful as ever. I simply love Dylan Thomas land. However, before we start hearkening to children's Christmases in Wales, lets be clear. Although DT had a rather fine boat house to live and write in Laugharne is the home of the Perrots! First and foremost!
"Who does that Thomas boy think he is? Shakespear?"  Can't you just here Lady D's ghost in her outrage?

It is a magnificent castle full of character, scandal, stories and people who love it. I really is a pleasure to work there.

Ceri from the History Chefs

We were lucky enough to be teamed up with The History Chefs.
They are a branch of the celtic learners network and truly lovely and inspiring people. Ceri and Colette, put on a spectacular show and gave delicious tasters of their Tudor goodies. Yummy!
With such cooks in residence, perhaps that is why Lady d is having trouble squeezing into her gowns.....

The highlight of the weekend was meeting Geoff, an ex school head and an expert on the Perrots. After quizzing me about my characters life I was awarded the gold star! Bloody glad I did my research!

All in all it was lovely weekend. For that I have to thank Tara, Shelia, Ceri, Colette and of course my lovely and every helpful DD x

I can't wait for the next one.

A Windowsill of Promise.

Here, on the tinyholding we are still living in garden limbo.

Full of promise!

DD has been taken away from home for the last few weeks with pressing work matters.  I know, I know, work doesn't matter!  However, we all know that work does matter and without it there would be no tinyholding.
This, in itself, has not stopped my planning. Nor has it stopped the growing.
We currently have a dining room windowsill full of promising seedlings and new young plants.
Upon the windowsill itself we have the beginnings of our herb garden. There is thyme, rosemary, parsley, both flat and curled, coriander, chives and many more.
Upon the top of the freezer, next to the window, there are pumpkins, courgettes, chard, lettuce, tomatoes and others.
I have seed trays and have been saving loo roll inners to pot up peas and beans.
There are pots to start off sunflowers, marigolds and nasturtiums.
In such a tiny space there lies such promise.
However, the promises are treading water. DD and I are struggling to find time for operation garden revamp. It will happen but we are slightly behind schedule.
I am thinking about redressing the situation. Perhaps this year we will have a mainly pot based veg garden. The important thing is to not lose the plants we have.
We have already had one major mishap. Buffy cat has proved herself persona no grata. She insists on making all windowsills her own. She takes no prisoners and you can often hear an annoyed exclamation from DD as she dive bombs the desk to get to her space. It is not making her a popular puss! To add insult to injury, last weekend Boglin got up in the morning and went to feed them. (First up, first job!)

Buffy and DD get their way!

She came creeping into DD and I with such a look of worry and horror. All of the plants were in a higgledy piggledy mess upon the floor. Buffy had struck again!
Fortunately Boglin had picked most of them up and not too many were terminal. We have lost a pumpkin, a tomato and the sweetpeas. Luckily I have more seeds and can replant. However, I was more than a little cross.
DD and I are currently in disagreement over the puss cats. I am a firm believer in putting them out for the night during warm weather. Particularly if they are causing problems. DD is far more soft hearted than me and wants them to be allowed in. He has his way for the time being but mark my words Buffy, one more stunt like that and you will be out!

Tears on the Tinyholding.

The formidable Miss Pecky, centre stage.

It was a tragic and sad day on Friday. Here on the tinyholding we have had a fox strike the egg laying committee.
Around 1.30 am Friday morning I heard a small kerfuffle in the garden. Quite a small argument that I put down to one of the birds having a strop because one the others had shuffled onto her perch and woken her. It was not the giant cacophony you would expect from fox strike. I lay there, in bed, weighing up the idea of waking DD and getting him to go and look. I decided that if there was one more squawk I would do so. There was just the sleepy silence of another tinyholding night. And so, I drifted off to sleep with the idea that all was well.
I don't think I will ever forgive myself for my complacency.
Upon Friday morning DD went to do his usual head count while letting them out and feeding them. He was horrified to find the door of the coop open and Pecky mauled at the back of the garden. The other birds were visibly shaken and subdued. They were crowding around him for comfort and safety. None of the usual exuberance or chatty bocking. He did a head count and couldn't find Darcy. It was only then that he realised we had not been woke by Darcy's enthusiastic morning glory. His usual dawn call of  "these are all my girls and this is my garden!"
Further investigating found a subdued and heartbroken Steve the Duck. Splodge, his Mrs Duck was also absent.

DD meets Darcy.

All the other birds were present and correct but clearly terrified.
DD came to me wanting to be proved wrong. Wishing that Pecky had died in her sleep and been pecked by distraught siblings. Hoping and Praying that Splodge and Darcy had gone to ground for some reason. I took myself to the scene and confirmed the worst. We had a fox!
The tell tale scattering of feathers in a quiet corner showing where Mrs. Fox had enjoyed her Pecky themed meal. Then taking Darcy and Splodge to her hungry cubs.
Poor Darcy was probably trying, with his diminutive stature but enormous character, to protect his girls. He was a dainty young man and no match for a hungry fox. Indeed, in Mrs Fox's eye he would have been a perfect meal from the children's menu.
Splodge was a dopey, loveable and curious duck. She wouldn't have stood a chance. Steve, however, upon closer inspection had not allowed his wife to be taken without a fight. He had sustained bites about his neck and his wing had clearly been injured.
He must have put up a brave fight. We have watched him since the incident and he seems to be recovering. Upon the first day I was very much in two minds about a cull.
The decision we now need to take regards this brave little soldier.
We cannot allow him to free range with a garden full of hens and no duck for company. Drakes and Cockerels are build differently and a Drake showing too much attention to a hen can damage her.
Do we bring him a wife or do we rehome him? If he does not recover fully the decision to cull may yet come to pass.
The Boglin child has pleaded with me not to let him die or to cull him. Therefore, I am trying to keep my word. The jury is, sadly, still out.

Bless you and rest in peace our absent friends.