Oblivious

The Christchurch easterly pushed me effortlessly along the red cycleway. A morning mother was parked across it. I shimmied around her car, whizzing across the gutter-bridge into the traffic and then back around onto the cycleway. Meanwhile the driver got out and checked her letter box. I looked around, hoping to catch her eye reproachfully, but she did not see me.

It's such a marvellous word.

Ob-livi-ous.

Possie and the Psycholinguists

Why have I used this funny little word so many times in my blogs? It doesn't even rate a "Yes, OK" in the Scrabble word search box on the blog. Am I so delighted to find a place to park myself? or others? A safe little nest in which I can hide? I have possies; Book-Book has possies; what does it all mean?

Well, really, who actually cares what it means? Sooner or later, aand certainly after I have needed it to, the word "possies" will be allowed in Scrabble, and no doubt some irritating opponent of mine (possibly Helen or Tim) will earn vast credits by top and tailing it on two triple word scores. Might be better if Scrabble adopts the "pozzie" spelling - except - you'd need a blank to make that work. Hmmm.


Anyhow anyhow anyhow* Book-Book has got over her broodiness (see pic of her being broody). Ian takes the credit - whether deservedly or not would be difficult to judge. He was amazingly concerned about her well-being while broody, but I had discovered (Googled) that broody hens can starve themselves to death, and Book-Book was certainly showing the dotty signs of one who will subjugate all to the Good of the Offspring. So Ian set to and "gave her a bit of a rark-up" on several occasions. This meant picking her up and taking her a long way away from her broody spot amongst the ferns, then chasing her around the garden and prodding her into stroppiness.


Whether it was that or hormones or something altogether else (a passionate desire not to be chased by Ian?), Book-Book is now over the whole nesting thing, which means that my garden is once again under threat of attack. For once though, the chook is nothing compared with the savage two-day nor'wester. It's been really disgustingly blustery. The peas are all over the place, and the broadies are looking very bedraggled. Joy's plan is coming along nicely though; the runner beans like their possies and are lovingly embracing their strings. I hope they are finding good possies for their roots, as we won't be here to tend them during early Jan...]

* Excuse my Dawn Frenchism but it is a very useful device to introduce a non sequitur, I reckon

The Ghastly Infertility of Book-Book

No Tiger, I'm talkin' 'bout infertility. It's not the same, you bastard.

Anyhoo, Book-Book is broody. Somehow I know this is the correct term, in spite of the fact that I've never kept hens nor written a manual on the subject...

Her character changed profoundly overnight. One minute she was a perky, strutting, tomato-stripping lettuce-eater (and strawberry-pecker - the bitch!); the next, she was a strangely still, flattened version of herself. She has been sitting in a particular possie now for three days, blinking occasionally and turning two-dimensionally on her axis. Jack showed us how you can pick up a broody hen, pinch her eggs, and set her down again with nary a peck! I now have enough eggs (what with one thing and another, but it's a long and tedious story) to make 18 pavlovas.

Meanwhile, Book-Book sits optimistically on. She really, REALLY is not very bright. If she were my daughter, I would remain very supportive, but actually be quite... well... disappointed. Luckily my daughter is terribly clever, and can do remarkable things, such as get 100% in her grade 5 musical theory exam. Let's hope I never catch her sitting on her eggs...