Yoxall Lodge Bluebell Woods

Yesterday was our twenty eighth wedding anniversary. Funny to think that I spent the first twenty eight years of my life unmarried and the second twenty eight married. Now you know how old I am, oh well. Doesn't time fly? Taking my cue from a lovely photo on Robert's blog when asked where I would like to go I said that I wanted to see some bluebell fields. So off we went to the woods at Yoxall Lodge. We'd never been before and weren't sure of what to expect so as the place didn't open until 10.30a.m. we went first to the Byrkley Garden Centre near Barton under Needwood for morning coffee and luscious home made cake. We then made our way over to Yoxall Lodge and the start of the walks around the woods. There were various walks of differing lengths to suit all abilities, the longest being about 2 miles. The colours were just stunning.

There is something mystical about the delicate colour of the flowers and the way they seem to stretch into infinity under the trees; a wonderful magic blue carpet. The walk reminded me of the woods near where we used to live in Derbyshire. As children, we would be taken from school by one of the teachers on what were called 'nature walks' and we would bring back the things we found to be displayed on the 'nature table,' these treasures were then suitably labelled; paintings we'd done would be displayed on the wall above the table. Also, in the evenings or at weekends, groups of us children would set off on our own around the woods and we would always come back with a bedraggled bunch of bluebells for our mothers - I don't think today's children would be allowed to do that. The flowers would be put in a jam jar or milk bottle on the kitchen windowsill. My mum used to love them. Today would have been her 91st birthday - so the bluebell visit was for her too.

Thank You Mr. Shakespeare

Apart from being St. George’s Day, today is thought to be not only the date of the birth of William Shakespeare in 1564 but also the day upon which he died in 1616. As some of you will know I am a great lover of Mr. Shakespeare and his plays so I've decided today to acknowledge this with my recollections of some of the most memorable performances I have been privileged to see. The ones where I sat enthralled, almost unaware of my own existence; the ones that left me feeling as if Ihad been touched by magic; the ones that filled me with joy and the ones where I left the theatre floating on air.

My very first experience of Shakespeare was the BBC’s 1965 production of the Wars of the Roses, seen in black and white on a small TV screen. I remember staying up late to watch with my fingers crossed that there wouldn’t be a power cut, I was beside myself with happiness then, I lived and breathed every word – I was a teenager and my family didn’t understand. My first visit to the RSC's theatre at Stratford was to see Coriolanus with Ian Richardson in the title roll. Perhaps not the best play to start with but once I’d taken that initial step I returned again and again – I was hooked.

There are many memories of countless performances but those I remember without even searching through my programme collection are as follows. A gloriously joyful The Comedy of Errors at Stratford with a cast including Judy Dench and Michael Williams. The cast came out into the audience at the end and we all joined in the final song. A stirring Henry V, again at Stratford, with Alan Howard in the title role. Nottingham Playhouse in the early seventies two equally stunning performances of Hamlet, one with Alan Bates as the Prince the other with Ian McKellan. A stunning Richard III at the National Theatre again with Ian McKellan. A dreamy and colourful Love's Labour's Lost with Ian Charleston, Alan Rickman, Richard Griffiths and David Suchet. I remember sitting through three productions in one day when the RSC at Stratford presented The Plantagenets. We sat through it all again at the Barbican in London. Last but not least a magical amateur production of A Midsummer Nights Dream on midsummer's eve at the Stamford Shakespeare Company's open air theatre at Tolethorpe.

Thank you Mr. Shakespeare for some wonderful memories.

Cause for Concern

Two things have caused me concern over the last couple of days. On Friday I read in the local paper that the main post office in Hanley (the city centre) was to be closed sometime during the next 18 months and the service moved into W. H. Smith. Hanley is one of two remaining Crown post offices left in North Staffordshire the other is my local post office at Longton so if the closure in Hanley goes ahead what chance has the one at Longton got? Both of these post offices are widely used and there are always long queues, so how, with the best will in the world, is W.H. Smith going to cope? The closure in Hanley will mean the loss of twenty three jobs. How many of those jobs will move to W. H. Smith? Perhaps three or four at the most? It’s no surprise, then, that the post office union leaders are up in arms. The present Hanley post office is close to the city centre and just a short walk from the bus station and car parks. W. H. Smith is on the second floor of the Potteries Shopping Centre reached by lift or escalators. How are the elderly, infirm or disabled going to get there easily? Young mums with buggies are going to struggle too. It may make economic sense for various reasons to the powers that be – but it isn’t a lot of use to the customers, is it?

Then today I read some more disturbing news, namely that the BBC, as part of a cost cutting exercise, may axe their regional news programmes. Axe their regional news programmes? Are they mad? I really find this hard to contemplate but if it did happen I think it would be extremely short sighted of them. I love my regional news programme, Midlands Today, the presenters are excellent and the coverage and content of the programmes is wide ranging and informative. I sit down every evening at 6.30p.m. with my after dinner cup of coffee to find out what has been going on in the area and I much prefer the BBC programme to the Central News on the other channel. I would be lost without it.

You could say that I 'm anxious about these things because I’m getting older and set in my ways and therefore don’t react very well to change but if change is for the better then I don’t mind, I can cope with it; but I have to say that the two things above seem to me to be, not only a step backwards, but a whole leap in the wrong direction.

Whilst I'm having a moan can I add call centres? We've been having great problems with our internet service provider especially with uploading things like photos to the internet - we've rung three or four times and got nowhere - we think we may need a new modem, they blame our computer; either way they are really unhelpful. They stick rigidly to a set script and won't deviate from it, no one is prepared to take the initiative and go straight to the problem and sort it out. This is one change I do find difficult - the days of being able to ring an engineer and talk through the problem and solve it either by 'phone or with a home visit are long gone.

I have lovely photos of yesterday's outing but I can't get them into my Picassa web album until we can get things sorted.

A Bit of Luck

Just a quick post today. I mentioned a few weeks ago that I'd had a photo accepted for Doorways Around the World - well here it is - go and have a look. I'm really pleased with it. Have a look at the other photos too - aren't they wonderful?

Also more good fortune - this week I found out I'd won a competition on The Book Club Forum for a signed copy of a Stephen Booth novel - as he is one of my favourite authors I'm thrilled to bits.

Strange Things

By strange I don’t mean weird but just sort of unexpected or coincidental. The first thing happened a few days ago when we’d been to the supermarket and were waiting at the traffic lights near Longton Town Hall. I glanced into the mirror and saw walking up the pavement behind us a strange apparition. ‘Oh, look’ I said to Paul ‘it’s a miner.’ Now given that over the last few weeks, because of the centenary meeting for the Shirebrook Pit Cage Accident in which my great grandfather was killed, I’ve had pits and miners on my mind, I thought that I may be hallucinating. The miner walked past the car, not a miner from any memory in my lifetime, more like the miners I’d seen in old photographs or on stage in a play by D. H. Lawrence. This was a pre-pit baths, pre-pit-helmet miner – the kind who used to go home covered in coal dust to a tin bath in front of a fire. Just the whites of his eyes and the pink of his lips were gleaming through the dust and dirt. All this drifted through my mind in the few seconds it took him to stop and pose, his cap at a jaunty angle and his lamp held aloft, for a scurrying camera man in front of the town hall. I then noticed his very modern day companions dressed in gleaming white tee shirts, carrying white plastic buckets and water bottles. I was intrigued to say the least but at this point the lights changed to green and we were on our way.

A couple of days later I opened the local newspaper and there he was again. This wonderful man had walked for ten miles taking in each of the six towns posing for photos at each of the town halls dressed as a Victorian miner and wearing a pair of miners clogs weighing 4lbs each. Why, you may ask. Well the man in question, Keith Meeson who runs the Apedale Heritage Centre near Newcastle-under Lyme, did it to raise money for a memorial to the fifty seven men who lost their lives on New Years Day 1942 at Sneyd Colliery. He has been campaigning for four years for a permanent memorial to the men and because of his walk he now has £2,000 and the memorial can be built. How dedicated is that?

Second coincidence is that today I’ve had a lovely long letter from a friend and it turns out we were both visiting family on the same day not more than a couple of miles from each other. Paul and I were visiting his brother and family and after lunch we had a walk around Rufford Park – my friend was such a short distance away with her family. We could have waved and said ‘Hello’ – now that is strange.

Bridal Wreath

One of my favourite shrubs is in flower at the moment. At this time of year the Bridal Wreath (Spiraea Arguta) is covered in heavy white boughs of flowers which look beautiful during the day but look magnificent against the dying light of the evening. We have a bush in the front garden but the one below is in the back garden and was taken as a cutting from the one at the front.

The plant's name always reminds me of a scene in John Hadfield's novel 'Love on a Branch Line'. After finding Jasper Pye being kissed by one of her daughters, Lady Flamborough, asks him to help carry the Bridal Wreath all she wants is for him to carry a plant or two but he, of course, completely misunderstands. Jasper Pye, the man from the Ministry, has been sent into early 1950s rural Suffolk to close down a long forgotten ministerial unit set up during the second world war. It is housed at Arcady the family seat of Lord and Lady Flamborough. The eccentric Lord Flamborough who lives in a railway carriage on the old branch line railway, Lady Flamborough, a keen gardener and their three beautiful daughters conspire with unit leader Professor Pollux and his staff to beguile poor Jasper. If you want a warm, gentle, amusing read full of eccentric characters and finally resolved misunderstandings then this is a lovely book with a happy ending.

Above is a close up of the Bridal Wreath in the front garden. It is such a shame that it's season is so short and the beautiful white flowers soon turn brown and drift away in the breeze.

Just Another Day

What do you do on Friday 13th? You visit the remains of some Neolithic Chamber tombs - well, we did anyway as part of our continuing exploration of The High Peak Trail. The remains are on top of Minninglow Hill - seen here in the distance.

We parked in the Minninglow car park near the picnic site and walked a couple of miles along the High Peak Trail until we came to Gallow Low Lane where we picked up the Roystone Grange Trail then turned through the open gateway across the fields to towards the ancient mound which is surrounded by a plantation of smaller trees except for the two entrances to the site.

The early morning mist was beginning to clear and although we'd seen one or two dog walkers and cyclists along the trail we had the burial site to ourselves. Above is one of the open chambers; below has to be one of the strangest pictures I've taken - those old trees in the background just don't look real, but I can assure you they are.

Along the way we saw many lambs, a field full of rabbits, pheasants, a hare, skylarks, wrens and hundreds of striped snails - some of which were pink.

Consall Hall Gardens

Isn't it exciting when you finally visit a place that you've passed by many times wondering what it would be like beyond the entrance gate and when you finally venture in it is even more wonderful than you anticipated? This happened to us today. We often visit the Country Park and walk down to where the Consall Canal and the River Churnet meet and where the Churnet Valley Steam Railway runs beside the two, it's one of our favourite places. Next to the Country Park entrance is the drive down to Consall Hall Gardens and today they were open so we went inside.

We spent the most entrancing two and a half hours in the gardens; they are an absolute delight. Every time you turn a corner another vista makes you gasp in amazement. I can honestly say it was one of the best gardens I have visited in recent years and photos just can't do it justice. I may have to continue the report in a second post, as there is so much to mention but for now, here are just a few photos to whet your appetite.

Wonderful water features

A folly or two or more

Sweeping drives and hidden places

And unexpected vistas.

I haven't even touched upon the forest walk, the lakes and wildlife, the friendliness of the staff and the lovely tea rooms yet. I can't believe this is just 10 minutes away from us by car and it's the first time we have visited. It certainly won't be the last.

Going Underground

A couple of photos from Poole's Cavern, I've managed to upload them but am now having problems again.

I actually sat down and watched Dr. Who last night, the first time since I was about twelve or thirteen years old. If I tell you that the Dr. Who I remember was played by William Hartnell and the only thing I remember about it, apart from The Doctor's black clothes and white hair is him having a rather tiresome, screechy granddaughter, you will realise how long ago that was. Why did I watch? The combination of Shakespeare and the Globe Theatre did it for me - just couldn't resist. I surprised myself and enjoyed it - giggled all the way through at both the Shakespeare and the J. K. Rowling references. Good job I've seen all the Harry Potter films even if I hadn't read the books at least I knew what they were talking about.

Good Wishes and Frustrations

Easter Greetings

Firstly, I want to wish everyone reading this a happy and peaceful Easter holiday.

In my last post I promised more photos of the High Peak Trail and since then we've walked another five mile section from Parsley Hay to Friden, but unfortunately Picassa isn't allowing me to upload any photos. It seems to be a server problem as I'm nowhere near my full capacity; so, as you can imagine, I'm feeling quite frustrated by having loads of lovely photos and not being able to share them.

Today we drove up to Leek, past Rudyard Lake which was twinkling in the sunshine and out towards Macclesfield. We then cut across country to Buxton passing through brilliant sunshine, low white cloud drifting across the valleys and then clear cool skies before hitting the sunshine again as we went down the hill into the town. We stopped at Poole's Cavern and after a mug of coffee joined one of the frequent tours. I was a bit nervous when we first went into the cavern as I couldn't see very well but my eyes soon adjusted and it was wonderful looking up at the incredible rock formations and stalactites and gazing at the strange orange tipped stalagmites rising from the cavern floor. I really enjoyed myself and didn't feel at all claustrophobic, the guide was very amusing and got a round of applause at the end of the tour much to his embarrassment - we both took some great photos but again, at the moment I can't share them with you.

Good news this week too, we've managed to book two tickets for the ferry along the Manchester Ship Canal with the help of a gift voucher courtesy of some dear friends (you know who you are). We are going on August 2nd and are now looking at booking a hotel for a couple of nights so that we can relax and enjoy the whole day. It is good to have something to look forward to.

A Bit More of the Trail

On Saturday we set out early to try and walk a bit more of the High Peak Trail. You will remember from previous posts that we had already done three sections from Cromford to Black Rock, from Black Rock to Middleton top and from Middleton Top to Harboro Rocks - BTTWI (before Tommy Tank was ill). This time we went up to Parsley Hay and walked towards the other end of the trail, where it meets the Pennine Bridleway, at Dowlow. Doing the trail bit by bit means that by the end we will have walked it 'there and back' because, of course, we have to walk the same bit twice each time. We have decided that we can do the last bit in two sections as well, that is Parsley Hay to Friden and then Friden to Harboro Rocks. A couple of years ago we walked the towpath of the Trent and Mersey Canal in much the same way until we had walked it all from Stone to the Harecastle Tunnel at Kidsgrove.

On the way up to Parsley Hay we decided to stop at Hartington and have a walk round and some breakfast before setting out on the 7 mile walk. I think it is one of the prettiest villages in the area, complete with village green and duck pond. In summer it heaves with tourists but on Saturday it was very quiet just a few brave souls venturing out into the early cool breeze to mingle with the locals waiting for the bus to Buxton, wandering home from the local shop with their morning milk and newspaper or taking rubbish to the local amenity lorry which had irritatingly, for me, parked by the duck pond - so no photos of that I'm afraid.

This is a view across the village green to the old cottages and the church in the distance. There is a tea shop in the old post office, a dairy and my favourite place - the Cheese shop.


More photos of the trail later.

Just One of the Daily Five

Yesterday I was able to cut some of the first rhubarb of the season. I must admit that it isn't one of my absolute favourite fruits; those being gooseberries, plums, raspberries and apricots, but I'm always pleased to see it in the garden as, along with the little wriggling tadpoles in the pond, it means it really is Spring.

The one thing I do love about rhubarb is the colour which is spectacular; it always amazes me that the green stems, underneath the red skin, when chopped and made into jam, turn the most wonderful deep pink in colour and make the jam look twice as appetising as it would do if green.

The next fruits in the garden will be gooseberries and black currants and then later, plums. Having these fruits in the garden makes it so much easier to eat the recommended five portions of fruit and vegetables a day.

Also spotted in the garden yesterday was a peacock butterfly, a five-spot ladybird and a red-bottomed bee. Plus three lazy cats enjoying themselves, of course.

One Hundred Years Ago

At 5.40 a.m. on the morning of Tuesday 26^th March 1907 at Shirebrook Colliery in Derbyshire, fourteen day-shift men entered the cage of No.2 shaft to go down into the pit at the start of their working day. When the cage was about halfway down the shaft one of the conductors broke, the cage became unbalanced and tipped up and its roof was hit by the loose conductor which wrapped itself around the cage. The men inside clung on to the guards but three of them fell out and hurtled to their deaths at the bottom of the shaft. The remaining men were suspended in the pitch black darkness clinging on to the side guards, two of them badly injured, for about two hours before rescuers could reach them. Meanwhile up in the early morning air news of the accident had spread rapidly through the village and hundreds of people congregated in and around the pit to hear news. The stranded men were finally rescued at about 8a.m. the doctor having descended into the pit to treat the injured men. The dead and injured were brought to the surface via the No.1 shaft, the bodies of those killed were taken to the colliery offices so that the coroner could make his initial report.

Those killed were:-

William Edward Limb of Warren Terrace, Shirebrook

William Phillips, a Scot, who had only started work at the pit the previous day

Arthur Burton who had come from Bulwell to work at the pit only a few weeks before.

Those injured were:-

Richard Merriman of Central Drive, Shirebrook

Thomas Widdowson of Langwith Road, Shirebrook.

An inquest was opened and adjourned pending a full investigation into the accident and the deceased were identified by family members.

You may wonder why I’m telling you this story but when I tell you that William Edward Limb (of whom more here) was my great - grandfather you will understand. My grandfather Alexander Joseph Limb identified his father’s body and registered his death just two days after registering the birth of his first child. What a week of mixed emotions he must have had.

Yesterday in a cool breeze which eventually lead to warm sunshine five of William Edward’s great grandchildren, some of them meeting for the first time, gathered at Shirebrook Cemetery and laid a wreath on his grave, exchanged memories, got to know each other over a lunch table and hoped that he would have been pleased for us to have been together.

The Boot

A few weeks ago, whilst taking our usual walk along the Lakeside Walk at Trentham Gardens we came across a boot, just sitting at the side of the path by a way marker post. It was old, worn, torn, its lace was missing and on closer inspection the sole of the boot was full of holes some from constant use and other smaller ones from the loss of studs.

We guessed that it must be an army issue, rough terrain, boot probably from the 2nd World War and given that during that time there was a military presence at Trentham as well as it being a prisoner of war camp and the base for the Bank of England it didn't seem such a strange thing to find. Of course, there were lots of other questions like, who had found it and placed it near the edge of the path when it had obviously been buried or hidden for years and years? Who had worn it? What had happened to them? Did they survive the war? I suppose one could weave a whole story about the loss of the boot or even about the finding of it. We left the boot where it was because it seemed the best thing to do. When we went round the walk last weekend we looked for the boot; it wasn't where we had seen it but then, who could have expected it to be? We found it further along on one of the brick foundations of the old Nissan huts, in two pieces, the heel at one end and the toe at the other. I expect next time we take that walk it will have disappeared completely.

Scenes from a Day

Scene One

I felt quite apprehensive as the youth crossed the road straight towards me. I’d seen him ambling along with that funny, slouching gait that boys of that age adopt when they are out in public. He was wearing the regulation baggy, crotch at knees trousers, cap and sweat jacket with hood. I was the only person around and he was headed straight for me. ‘scuse me, duck, is this the way to the Probation Office?’ he asked. Oh, directions, okay, I’m used to giving those; it’s a source of amusement with my nearest and dearest that wherever we are people always ask me for directions. I can be with several people but it’s always me they ask so , I can do this. ‘Yes,’ I reply, ‘just down there on the right next to the medical centre.’ I get a ‘ta, duck’ and he slouches off. Only then do I wonder if he is on probation and if so, why?

Scene Two

I’ve paid my fare and I advance down the aisle of the bus to get a seat. Simon is on the bus, we exchange greetings, as we do when we pass on the path in the local recreation ground. Today he is without Whisky his little doggy pal but chatting quite happily to two elderly ladies and listening to their woes about hospital appointments, vandalism on their estate and the general uselessness of the local council. He joins in with some nightmare tale of his own about waiting in a hospital queue for ages and ages, which sounds absolutely horrendous. Poor Simon.

Scene Three

I wait in the queue at W. H. Smith to pay for my newspaper. I have a Guardian today, hurray! I usually can’t get a Guardian from our local shop. There are three people in front of me, the assistant asks each one if they would like a half price chocolate bar, each one declines. My turn; she doesn’t ask me if I want chocolate at half price she asks me if I would like to pre-order the new Harry Potter book. I decline, as I would have done if she’d have asked if I wanted the chocolate, but I hover in the doorway, just long enough to hear her ask the person behind me if they want half price chocolate. As I wander through the shopping centre towards Debenhams, where I know I will have to test the Code Pour Femme by Georgio Armani just once more to see if will suit me you understand, I’m still pondering upon the Harry Potter/chocolate thing. Do I look like a Harry Potter enthusiast? Or do I look like a person who doesn’t like chocolate? Then I muse on the fact that probably a lot of people eat chocolate whilst reading Harry Potter. These thoughts stay with me until I get to the coffee bar and sit with my cappuccino listening to the 'in-house' radio. 'have a little patience' sing Take That, well I have lots today, but then I haven't been to the food hall at 'your M&S ' yet and the crowds in there have been known to raise my blood pressure slightly.

Scene Four

As the bus pulls away from the stop, where I’d just been amused by a traffic warden gazing into the window of the nearby craft shop at a rather nice length of pink feather boa, I see said traffic warden flag down a taxi driver who is using the bus lane. The bus driver stops the bus, opens the window and shouts to the traffic warden ‘Go on, book him, and while you’re at it, stop the cops who use the buzz* lane, as well.’ He drives off in a huff muttering to himself through at least two more sets of traffic lights. I see a newspaper headline as someone reads further down the bus. '12 inches of snow expected this weekend.' Oh, no, but the sun is shining and the shops are full of wonderful spring flower arrangements for Mothering Sunday. Paul has to drive to Solihull on Monday for a training course. I suddenly want to be safe at home.

* the folk in Stoke say buzz not bus; they also say upbank instead of uphill.

World Heritage?

Council and Tourism officials have decided to apply to UNESCO for Longton, the southern most of the six towns which make up the city of Stoke-on-Trent, to be designated a World Heritage Site. Apparently making an application is a very long and drawn out process; the project has first to be accepted as an eligible site by the Government and then government officials have to put the bid forward to UNESCO. I expect that going through these stages will create a lot of interest in and possibly bring money to the town so it surely can’t be a bad thing; although people are already saying that the money that would have to be spent by the council to even get the project off the ground would be better used on other things and that Longton wouldn’t stand a chance anyway so why bother. When you compare the town with some famous places that have World Heritage Status you may be forgiven for thinking it doesn’t stand a chance, I’m thinking here, Great Wall of China, Grand Canyon, Taj Mahal and Venice. On the other hand, when you compare it with places in Britian that have achieved World Heritage Status, places like Ironbridge Gorge, Blaenavon in South Wales and the Cornish Tin Mining areas then it doesn’t seem quite such a daft idea.

The area around the Gladstone Pottery Museum (known as the St. James Quarter) is rich in the history of the Pottery Industry and as it is only a twenty minute walk away from where we live I thought I would go down today and have a walk around and take some photographs.

The Gladstone Pottery Museum

The Church of St. James the Less

One of the numerous factory shops to be found across the town.

Other nearby factory shops include Aynsley, Hudson & Middleton and Leeds. Not far away on the other side of town are the two big ones- Portmeirion and Wedgwood. If you go into the Wedgwood shop, even on a quiet day, there are at least two or three coach parties visiting at any one time.

I'm not local, I wasn't born here, in fact we've only lived here for the last 10 years but I must admit I felt a little pride in what I saw today.

Good News

I've had a photograph accepted for a wonderful blog called 'Doorways Around the World' and it will be published on April 20th. As you can imagine I'm really thrilled about having a photograph accepted. I'm not going to put the accepted one here yet - it will spoil the surprise - but here are some of the photographs I took at the same time.

Before Tom was ill we visited Rode Hall near Scholar Green to look at the snowdrops. It was a very cold day and there were loads of people there so it was a bit difficult to take lots of photos.

The picture above is of Rode Hall and the one below the outer shell of a former house on the estate now part of the complex housing the tea rooms and plants sales.

All Saints Church at Scholar Green which is just near Rode Hall was also open and decorated with snowdrops and candlelight - it was so beautiful inside - you will just have to imagine it though as photography wasn't allowed.

p.s. Chloe is out and about today as if nothing had happened - that's cats for you.

It Never rains but It Pours

The day after letting Tom take his first venture outside for at least two weeks, we now have a problem with Chloe. Yesterday morning we set out early and had a long walk around Trentham Lake then sat and had a cup of coffee before venturing home. When we got back we let Tom out for his second outing and along with the other two cats we spent an hour or so in the garden tidying up before having lunch. As I was clearing up after lunch I went into the back of the garage to put some things into the recycling bins and looked out of the window to see Chloe sitting on one of the water butts looking very odd and unstable and then she fell backwards off the water butt. I shouted Paul and dashed outside where Max was chasing Chloe who was dragging herself across the garden her back legs dragging behind her and her body twisted to one side. My immediate thought was that she had injured her back or her back legs. Paul managed to catch her and we rang the emergency veterinary service who now use the P.D.S.A. hospital out of hours. We rushed her down there and she had loads of tests and x-rays and the good news is that she hasn't broken anything or damaged any internal organs - it just seems to be muscle and nerve damage. It took her ages to come round last night but this morning she seems brighter and is moving more easily than she was yesterday. So it looks like with a bit of rest she will be okay. She has to stay in today whilst Tom is taking delight in the fact that he is now free to roam again. Poor Max seems bemused by the whole thing.

Breaking News.........

This afternoon Tom took his first turn around the garden since becoming ill 15 days ago. He spent 7 days at the vet's surgery and 8 indoors at home, he's lost weight and is still feeling fragile but he was glad to get out into the fresh air.

Max decided to celebrate Tom's return to health by inviting a few pals over for a patio party, here he welcomes Fudge, Sox and Ollie.

Meanwhile, Chloe decided to watch the proceedings from a safe vantage point. Too many boys around for her liking.

I think she prefers humans to other cats.

What Can We Do?

Yesterday's Independent reported on the rather alarming news that after one of the mildest winters on record many of our familiar and favourite mammals, birds and insects have been thrown into utter confusion. Breeding has started early and the babies of animals like hedgehogs and squirrels are dying or are being found in distress when the weather suddenly gets colder - or rather back to normal for the time of year. The cold weather either kills the young animals or sends them back into hibernation and they never wake up again because they are low on energy due to low fat reserves.

Apparently Tiggywinkles who would normally see just a handful of hedgehogs in the January to March period has seen a 40% increase in cases this year. Also affected are toads, newts, grass snakes and pipistrelle bats.

I find this all rather sad and confusing as I can't imagine not having these species around. Like a lot of people I have a soft spot for hedgehogs and squirrels and love seeing them around the garden. I know some people see them as vermin and would probably welcome their gradual demise but that isn't the issue here. The Government's Climate Change Bill is to be published next week so what proposals or solutions will it hold to address this specific problem? More importantly what on earth can we do in the meantime to help these lovely creatures survive?