This is happening tonight...

Let me break it down for you:

1. That is a cat on a 30th birthday invite. YES!!
2. Fancy dress DOES NOT mean cute cocktail dresses.
3. Fancy dress means costumes.
4. Costumes??
5. Costumes + strangers??!!
6. Costumes + strangers + whiskey??!! Now you're talking...
7. Already looking forward to hangover migas.

Baddesley Clinton

Pronounced Ba-des-lee Clinton. A manor house about 5 miles away from us, in the county of Warwickshire. It was home to the Ferrers family for 500 years, up until 1940. Then, it was purchased by a distant relative of the Ferrers family, Thomas Walker, who actually changed his name to Ferrers. The house had fallen into serious disrepair so Thomas Walker worked very hard to restore it. His son inherited the house in 1970 and sold it to the National Trust in 1980.

We attended a 40 minute introductory talk that outlined the history of the house and its inhabitants. A lot of the history of the house can be traced by looking at the additions and changes to the house that were made over the years. Personally, I was glad the tour took place outside the house rather than in it. The outside is beautiful, but the inside is exactly what you would expect - a warren of small, dark, low-ceilinged rooms. Hardly inspiring. Anyway, the architecture itself is the where the true history of the house lies. The interior is as it was when the Walker/Ferrers people lived there in the 20th century so there is even a modern bathroom (hideous and shower-less).

You can just barely see in this picture that the house still has its original moat, which is fed by a spring. The drawbridge was eventually replaced by permanent bridge when moats became less of a necessity and more of a status symbol. Some of the stone blocks of the house are beginning to crumble so the original quarry (which we passed on our way up the drive) has been reopened to provide replacement stone. The crenellation over the entrance was not added until the end of the 18th century. Before that time, one had a pay a hefty fee to the crown for the privilege of having that particular architectural feature.

I really don't understand how that chimney at the end of the house is still standing. It looks like a strong gust of wind would be enough to topple it.

The house is quite famous for having three priest "holes" or hides. The Ferrers family was Roman Catholic and during the Reformation, when it was even illegal to hear a Catholic mass, they sheltered Catholic priests. The house was regularly searched by local authorities and during those times the priests would hide in one of these secret places. "Local authorities" were actually just local village people and the Ferrers had to pay them to have their house searched. I'm pretty sure they weren't interested in actually finding any priests because who would pay them to search their house if the Ferrers were hung? No priest was ever discovered at the house. Apparently, the local authorities were quite happy to overlook all sorts of religious trappings, including vestments and chalices and whatnot, so I can't imagine seeing an actual priest would have surprised them much.

The floor of the sacristy led to a hide in the sewers below the house. The hide was only 4 feet tall and held 8 people with standing room only. I'm still confused about this whole searching thing - I'm gonna guess that trap door would have been PRETTY OBVIOUS had anyone thought to look under the dang rug. I mean, if they didn't look under the rug, where did they look? They didn't even have closets back then! Give me a break.

Also, there was a narwhal tusk in the house. I have no idea what it had to do with Baddesley Clinton, or the Ferrers, or anything, but it was so cool! Ignore the seriously terrible, blurry picture - but look how long that thing is!

After all this touring nonsense, we hurried over to the cafe to have lunch. We missed it by 15 minutes. They were only serving tea so we had cake (the hugest square of cake ever) and it was pretty delicious. I also had ice cream. And then I wondered why I felt a bit nauseous.

Easter 'Egg'gility at SRC

As I mentioned before, our house is basically across the street from the Solihull Riding Club. The club is situated on 220 acres and has its own cross-country course and multiple indoor arenas. From what I can tell, people do not actually keep their horses there... they just belong to the club and bring their horses there to ride. There are horse trailers going up and down the main street by our house all day long. The club is a major competition centre and hosts all sorts of dressage, eventing, and show jumping competitions. Besides all this, SRC also hosts canine related events. Clearly, it's a happening place. This past four-day weekend it was the site of the annual Bretford Dog Agility Show - also known as "Easter 'Egg'gility". Awesome.

The weather was perfect (as I have mentioned once or twice before heh heh) so Jeff and I walked over to check it out. Did Sascha and Plato accompany us? Hell no. I had never been to an agility competition before, but I have to say it had much the same atmosphere as a horse show, i.e. overflowing with crazy people. Crazy, CA-RAY-ZEE dog people. And the dogs... equally crazy. Before this, I always kinda thought agility was just for unusually smart dogs, but it turns out it is a sport more suited for INSANE smart dogs. I mean, I tend to think Sascha is pretty dang smart (it's not just me, I think some of you agree, right?). Smart enough and biddable enough to take through an agility course. But there is absolutely nothing in the world that could induce her to move at a speed faster than a leisurely jog. Zero competitive edge. Competitive is an understatement - these dogs were RABID. Like gladiators or something. They wait on the perimeter of the course, actually watching the competition, getting progressively more amped up, and chewing maniacally on a kong-type toy on a rope that every trainer seemed to have. At the starting line, the dogs quiver at the effort of remaining still. Then, they explode. The bossy ones bark the entire way through the course. The crazy ones only listen when the trainer literally screams directions. The super excited ones take off about 4 feet before each jump, barely making it. After 3 faults, the dog and trainer have to leave the course, but the dogs often continue racing around and over jumps at random... confused at the sudden lack of direction. Overall, really fascinating to watch and a little frightening... I mean, can you imagine living with one of those dogs??

Of course, some dogs don't take it all so seriously. There were some joggers. Some that took a few jumps as required and then decided "wheeeee... I'm going to sniff some grass over there now... see ya!!"

I managed to snap a few shots, although looking back I seem to have only gotten the, ahem, slightly slower fellas. Oh well, you get the idea.

In my mind, the only thing that was lacking was that I wish the trainers wore skirt suits and nude hose like the handlers at dog shows.

A semi-holiday

If you want to know what work was like for Jeff (who is almost smack-dab between two four day weekends) today, read this. I hope you're alright with being completely useless for the rest of the day.

Another Dorridge walk

One of my favorite things about living in this area is how often, when driving or walking around, you see those little weather-beaten "Public Footpath" signs. Without a special map that shows all the footpaths, there is only one way to find out where the path leads! I've noticed one quite close to our house several times recently, but it took a sunny day this last weekend for us to finally check it out. I think much of the land the path crosses is part of the 220 acres owned by the Solihull Riding Club (which is basically across the street from us). We didn't see any horses while we were there, but we kept the dogs on their leads seeing as they have absolutely no manners around horses. Well, mainly Sascha has no manners and Plato follows where Sascha leads (usually looking over his shoulder at us, thinking "I am SO not supposed to be doing this"). Anyway, we followed the path through the fields, up over the M42, and past a golf course until it came out on a street that we absolutely did not recognize so we turned around, went a different way at a fork, and came out not much further down the same road we started from. Perfection! Actually it would have been perfect if I had a third arm to hold Plato while I took pictures. When you look at them, imagine Plato just out of view, wriggling and whinging (that's how we say whining here) like a little puppy because Jeff and Sascha are too far ahead of us and it's NOT FAIR.

Current favoritest thing to eat

I found this recipe on Smitten Kitchen a while ago and I have been making it for dinner at least once a week ever since (and then again for lunch the next day). Of course, now that I've made it a few times it doesn't really seem like the sort of thing that you would need an actual recipe for (since it is deliciously simple), but sometimes you just need that little bit of inspiration to make something you haven't thought of before. Seriously, black beans + feta + lime-y cabbage = INSPIRED. So good.

This is basically it. A can of black beans, drained and mashed with a teaspoon of cumin. About half a cabbage, two green onions, and a handful of cilantro mixed with a couple glugs olive oil and the juice of one lime. Crumbled feta. The best part is that feta is pretty salty so you don't really need to add salt to anything else. Wait... the actual BEST part is you can do all this ahead of time, throw it in the fridge, and make dinner really really easily.

Hot pan. Teensy bit of olive oil. Cue insanely delicious smell of crispy tortillas.

A little sour cream (or as it is called here soured cream, which just sounds gross), some avocado and BOOM. Best dinner ever.

Plato's birthday month

Plato is 5 years old! Hard to believe. He doesn't seem to have matured at all - just gotten bigger. I'm always telling people at the park that Plato is my five year old puppy, which pretty much sums him up. He drives us crazy sometimes, but when he's cute, he is very very cute. Although, I sometimes wish he still looked like a puppy.

That's baby Plato and his dad.

Back when Plato could fit in my lap and have his bones stolen by Gracie (the corgi).

Back when he was still allowed on the coach. Well, nowadays he seems to think he IS allowed on the coach, just not when we're home. Who said he isn't smart?

The whole "only child" period is kind of a touchy subject. Somehow Plato has managed to soldier on in good health.


Other reasons to celebrate:

This month is also Michael and Paulina's anniversary month (1 year), my parents' anniversary month (29 years), and soon to be Will and Kate's anniversary month - the Royal Wedding is next weekend!

More reasons to celebrate if you live at 256 Mill Lane:

1. It was sunny and 75 today
2. We discovered an awesomely pretty public footpath across the street
3. Jeff has today and Monday off work AND next Friday and Monday off for the wedding
4. We are about to eat a delicious dinner

Garden update

First of all, I have to say, the weather has been INSANE. Insanely good. Like sunny and in the 60s with nary a drop of rain. Can I just give you a taste of my next few days? 74°...74°...73°...72°... I don't even know what to say about that except we need some outdoor furniture stat. I went to Ikea yesterday and they let me down in a major way. eBay here I come.

The garden has been looking greener every day, particularly the wisteria. I really need to remember to take a picture in the morning when this area is sunny because here it looks a little sad and drab.

A bunch of plants arrived in the mail yesterday so I've been working on getting them all in the ground. There are still some left to do by the wisteria and the climbing rose. The extra laurels (from the hedge) that I planted under the kitchen window are miraculously still alive. The hanging basket hooks were here when we moved in, but the plastic grocery sack lined baskets didn't quite make the cut. Hooray - another reason to go to the garden centre and visit the adorable bunnies! I planted white geraniums in the new baskets - which hereafter shall be known as the "Sherri Stanley Special" since we all know how she loves her geraniums :)

My one birch tree was lonely so I planted another next to it. I put in english lavender around the trees (although I think I could probably use about twice as many). On the left side, by the fence, I planted 3 viburnums. They basically look like sticks coming out of the ground now, but eventually they'll be pretty leafy green shrubs (with white flowers) and will help make the the courtyard feel more private.

To the right side, I planted a mixture of irises, feather grass, milk parsley and ground cover. My intent is that eventually the plants sort of spill over onto the patio. Yeah... I know. Seems a bit unlikely at the moment, doesn't it?

There is one plant in there that I didn't plant, but I love its foliage. I'm pretty sure it is a lupin.

We've been blocking off the other half of the garden with the garden bench. Even Jeff says it looks tacky.  We try to avoid that half of the garden because of the neighbor(S), but we also stay out of there because the only fence that separates our yard from theirs and the busy street adjacent to their yard is quite short and either one of the dogs could easily jump it if they wanted to. It is unlikely, but when I'm in the back garden it is difficult for me to keep an eye on what they're up to in the front.

Plato got his stitches out on Monday. He's healed up really well and is back to bouncing around and running into walls with Sascha.

I call this montage "Will you please please PLEASE throw the ball for me already (in such a way that I can get to it before the other one while expending a minimal amount of effort)".

Naughty

"Hello my name is Sascha (aka Monkey aka Missy-Miss aka Missy-Misdemeanor-Monkey-Face) and I am sad and mopey because mom got mad at me because I was eating DIRT."

Brushing day

OMG, you guys. The shedding around here has been out of control. It always happens this time of year, yet somehow I always manage to be completely surprised and appalled. Before we had Sascha, I used to complain about Plato's shedding. Let me tell you - it is just a drop in the bucket when compared to the undercoat-producing-machine that is Sascha. Brushing, around here, is not a pleasant event and is not to be taken lightly.

Well, it is pleasant for about 2 minutes until the dogs decide "Well! That's enough of THAT!" when we've really only scratched the surface.

This picture was obviously taken during the two minute period. Plato is like "Ooh yeah. More of that please." and the chunky monkey desperately wants it to be her turn.

Then it is her turn for a while and Plato hovers and breathes hot dog breath down Jeff's neck.

Sometimes, there is a sneak attack intending to usurp the enemy's position as brush-ee.

After the two minutes of pleasure are up, Plato relaxes into regal resignation (his usual state, to be honest).

Sascha, on the other hand, turns into a whiny little baby with teeth - wriggling to escape Jeff, nipping the brush and Jeff with equal malice, and yelping as if the thing that was so pleasurable not so long ago is now causing her physical pain.

The Sascha death stare. She's all "my previous abusive owner NEVER brushed me this much. I want to go back."

Anyway, this is the result of all the terrible brushing. Excuse me while I get started on the little dog hair filled pillows you all will be getting for Christmas!