History repeating itself...

There's that song by Shirley Bassey and the Propellerheads, or the Propellerheads featuring Shirley Bassey....  anyway, here's a link to youtube if you're interested:  http://youtu.be/bE_1tCasi_Q

When writing my blog I think carefully what title to give to the post, and when 'History Repeating' came to mind, I had to find a link to the song.

Anyhoo.  The prompt for this post is the things that happen whilst you're minding your own business, and which could easily be forgotten if you neglected to share them.  Some are fanciful, some are farcical, some are downright absurd.  This incident ticks all three boxes, and happened on Saturday whilst driving along the A417 towards the A34 Oxford ring road, to get to the M40.

We'd just driven past the Land Rover garage, and ahead of us were these blue flashing lights.  'Oh, oh' I thought to myself, and slowed my vehicle as we drew closer.  Two police vehicles were skewed across the road, and the oncoming traffic was also at a standstill.

image found at:  http://pixgood.com/english-police-cars.html

The action unfolded in front of my eyes.  It wasn't an accident, as I'd first suspected, but an escaped sheep, which was giving the two police officers a jolly good runaround.  One of the police vehicles was mobile, driving around to block the sheep's escape, so none of us were going anywhere for the timebeing.

I chose this image as embodies the attitude of the loose sheep, not as an accurate representation...
image found at:  http://www.warburnstud.com.au/index.html

So, I sat back in my driver's seat started to enjoy the show.

The lady driver of the Volvo at the head of the queue of oncoming traffic had got out of her vehicle, and after rummaging around the rear of the car found a piece of rope.  She joined in the chase, but the sheep was having none of it.  There was no obvious place for the sheep to be herded towards, no gates, no field with a broken fence, both sides of the road at this point are bordered by high hedgerow, but it was determined not to be caught.

Having had a country upbringing, I'd venture a guess that the police officers attending weren't entirely comfortable around livestock... they were trying to catch it, but it was a bit half-hearted, and the sheep definitely had the upper hand.

Help arrived after a time, in the form of two men who got out of the large horse box which was several vehicles behind the Volvo.  Judging from their attire I'd say they were Polo players, being kitted out in riding boots, jodphurs and the figure hugging polo shirts they wear.

image found at:  http://www.sussexpolo.co.uk/

They wasted no time, grabbed the sheep by neck, and both men quickly straddled it, one over the front shoulders, one over the rear flank, and clamped their thighs firmly over the poor animal.  The Volvo lady proffered her piece of rope, which they tied around its neck, and then once they'd got it to the side of the road, I deemed it safe to drive on...

As I passed by, the sheep was still not giving in without a struggle, and was collapsing its back legs, to make leading it on impossible.  Ah me, we laughed like drains, and I'm still regretting not having had the presence of mind to reach into my handbag (in the passenger side footwell), pull my camera out, and take a piccy (or two).  But as I was the driver, I acted responsibly and didn't take advantage of my front row seat.  Boo hoo.  

So, why is this amusing incident 'History Repeating Itself'?  Because, we're the proud custodians of a rather good photo from the Lancashire Evening Telegraph, which was taken sometime in the 1960s.  I've scanned it in for your enjoyment, and all I'll say is when my father was a policeman, he was on hand in Blackburn Market when some sheep got loose, and the local paper sent a photographer and journalist to cover the story.....

My dad's the policeman in the middle of the photo....  now, where have I seen something like this just recently???

Keeping it sweet!  

Kat

Fighting is futile

I'm fed up of all the fighting in the world.  In Syria, Gaza, Israel, Afghanistan, Somalia, and all the rest.  I'm fed up of hearing about it on the news.  Not because I don't care, but because I can't understand why they keep on fighting.  Surely by now they'd have realised that fighting is futile.  It gets you nowhere.  Surely they'd have learned the lessons of the past.... especially in this centenary year of WWI.  But no.  The 'big men' with their 'big guns' and their 'big penises' (in their minds, no doubt) want to keep shooting because it makes them feel good to avenge...

Essentially there are no winners, so why don't they all just stop (the game) and put their toys (guns) away?  Because they're men, full of testosterone, full of pride, intent on destruction, and if they can't win themselves, then no-one else will either.

It all seems such a waste.  As a woman, and mother, I can't understand this caveman urge to anahialate your opponent.  (It appears I can't spell it either...).  And I'm certain that's where it stems from - a primitive need to oppress your foes, to dominate the tribe, to reign supreme.  But at what cost?

Women could not and would not willingly fight to the death over something as insignificant as a piece of land.  Why?  Because it is in our nature to nuture.  We carry the infant internally and externally, and we know the true price of life because of this.  Our viewpoint of the world is intrinsically different to that of our male (soul)mates, but all our needs (love, food, shelter), are the same.

I am lucky to live where I do, and when I do.  I have never known the horror of war nor the sorrow, misery and hardship that people living in war-torn areas do.  And maybe I would feel differently if my circumstances were such that I was trapped in such a place and time.  And yet.  I am troubled by the part that the women in these parts of the world play - or maybe is it just that we don't hear of it other than they become refugees and downtrodden and victimised and worse.  Because in my heart I cannot believe that women would have so little influence over their men.  So little sway, so little caring as to allow their men to go from them, to leave them, to prefer to fight with the boys than stay at home and make love with their wives, girlfriends or mistresses.  To stay at home and watch their children grow.  To stay at home, live life, make memories, and grow old together.  Because by fighting none of this can happen.

So why don't they all just stop.  Like children.  Stop fighting and apologise.  Stop fighting and tidy up.  Stop fighting and start living.  Stop fighting each other, and start striving - to make the world a better place, for all our children.

Kat.

Lush

So, if I could pick my Desert Island Discs tonight I'd choose:

Pixies - Gigantic (or Surfa Rosa, probably Gigantic)
Paolo Nuttini - Pencil Full of Lead
Caro Emerald - Riviera Life
Rolling Stones - Gimme Shelter (or Brown Sugar, or Sympathy for the Devil)
The Smiths - This Charming Man
Yousou 'nDour - Rubber Band Man
Lou Reed - Perfect Day
Joni Mitchell - Big Yellow Taxi

This is a game/format/theme that could run and run.... enough!

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So, how does my garden grow?  Well, thankfully, because we're in lovely rural Oxford, and the weather's been fair, it's all growing really nicely, thank you.  Too well in places (ahem, there are more than a few weeds in the vegetable patch).  It's trying to keep on top of it all that's the kicker.  If I mow the lawn, I can't trim the hedge.  When I trim the hedge, I can't weed the veg patch, and so on.

I've been watching my lovely richly scented red rose bush with it's 5 buds developing...  The pictures speak for themselves.... Lush, in my opinion, anyway.

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There was a 'fun day' to promote play for children (?!!!) in the park yesterday.  I toodelled over there with Tom, and, since he now goes to the local school, we met a friend of his there, Daved.  The mobile Library van was there, stalls from various youth and sports projects, and everything was free.  The boys got stuck into the laserguns (doh, obviously), and ended up at the face painting stall.  Daved painted Tom.  This is the result.  8-yr old boys, eh.

If you've been wondering about my greenhouse, here's tonight's picture, after watering.  5 tomato plants, 6 sweet peppers and 1 aubergine. Lush.

These are the hollyhocks I 'guerilla gardened' in the derelict land (awaiting development) behind us. I'm quite taken with the colour of these - they do vary from year to year, but these are very pleasing.  I haven't figured out how to take a good photo of them yet, but I wanted to share the colour of them here.  I'll keep trying until I get something I'm happy with.

It's been another busy one, so I'll call it a night. Well, I say I'll call it a night.  That depends on the hen.  The dominant hen, 'Brownie' is a real night owl - at the moment she's not usually gone in until 10.15pm, and then if there's a clear sky and a moon, she's still been out peedelling around, until 10.30pm.   She's making me tired.

Keeping it sweet!  Kat :)