Sienna has an Adventure

Sienna took a stroll through the deep dark wood

[Please note, some of the faces belonging to the living dead have been photoshopped to make them less hideously scary...]

Once upon a time, a big girl called Sienna came to the South of France with her mum, there to visit Popi and Momo. 

Little did she know that this was to be the start of a big adventure!

Sienna's mum had brought with her gifts for Popi, as it had been his birthday sometime in the last year. 

Four gifts she brought, four gifts of great value.

First was a special frame with special coloured gem stones specially placed within it. Popi would soon find a special place on the wall for this masterpiece, as soon as he re-glues the stones...

Second was a giant bar of the most fabulous chocolate found anywhere on the planet, indeed anywhere in the Galaxy. It had to be a giant bar because of all the hungry mouths to feed.

Next was some special pieces to place in Popi's model railway. See if you can spot one here...

Lastly, however, was a gift unwanted. A cute little waggy-tailed virus that immediately sensed a source of warm food deep in the recently damaged lungs of Popi. Bypassing the usual snotty nose and sneezes, this unwanted visitor elicited a cough. If you ever suffer a broken rib, try not to cough...

This gift had already gotten hold of Sienna's mum, and would also soon strike down Momo, leaving Sienna alone, surrounded by the living dead.

She found herself stuck deep in the mountains, with only her own survival instincts to help her. She had to get away and somehow get to Popi & Momo's farmhouse

She tried skiing, and would have succeeded if the stupid skis hadn't kept falling off. 

The only answer was to slide away.

even though this scared the living daylights out of her zombie mother....

Finally she arrived at Popi and Momo's farmhouse, next to the enchanted forest called 'The Deep Dark Wood'. 

There, amongst many ancient tomes, such as Dr Zeuss's "Sleep Book" and "Duckie, Do you Know how Lucky you are?" she found a magic book describing a monster that lived nearby in the Deep Dark Wood; The Gruffalo.

Sienna set off on her quest to find this monster.

She climbed the highest heights,

leaping forth to meet all odds, somewhat reminiscent of Lara Croft.

Searching a nearby fairy house, she discovered a secret map giving her the route she must take.

She must leap wide rivers...

whilst fighting off strange monsters...

sneaking past giant dinosaurs...

avoiding the spray of a nearby volcano...

and commandeering an off-road vehicle, cunningly named 'Popi's Tractor'.

Deep in the Deep Dark Wood, Sienna discovered the Gruffalo's house!

But no Gruffalo....

Sienna needed help.

And help came.

Sienna's cousin, Lyzëa...

and her trusty side-kick, Kaëly...

After a short break to catch up

(which did not impress Kaëly)

The adventurers set off into the enchanted forest,

zipping through the forest...

at mind-boggling speed...

one following the other...

Despite all this, the Gruffalo was not seen, although Kaëly did try to point it out...

After such a great adventure, Sienna and Lyzëa spent time documenting their story in special facial contortions...

Well done the three girls!

and then the zombies came...

The First complete Circuit of the Barn Station.

20 months.
We've been working on the Barn Station model railway for 20 months. You'd think it would be finished by now wouldn't you?

Well. not exactly. But we have reached a landmark moment. The bloody thing finally works!
Yes, despite all the attempts by nature to derail our project (pun intended) we have finally got there. The whole circuit (excluding sidings) now works as smooth as a baby's bum.
Although less smelly.
And here's the proof. A mix of videos taken by a camera within one of the trains, plus external footage.
The finale is somewhat shocking, please hold onto your underwear.
Names have been changed to protect the innocent.

A Pyrenean Saga - Spying for the Empire

This is the story of six intrepid adventurers, six travellers from ancient times, and their trip into the heartland of the evil empire, Europe, on a secret mission to do secret stuff.

We were there to infiltrate the local community and discover what we might miss once the British Empire sails chaotically away. 

This is the Pyrenean mountain range, a vast expanse of rock and snow (although, not in actual fact a huge amount of the latter) found separating France from Spain. It was built here long ago to keep out the marauding foreigners, in much the same way as Trump wants to do in the once great USofA, and Boris, Farrage and May (the new version of Top Gear) now want to do between the Great Empire of Britain and its lowly neighbours.

These adventurers went incognito, posing as three old farts and their equal opportunity partners.

Let me introduce these fine specimens to you...

From the left we have Jane 'Build Those Core Muscles' Whiting, then Claire 'I Am Really Really Sorry' Kenward sitting next to her partner in crime Phil 'Only 3½ Pints Honestly)' Kenward. Opposite we have yours truly, Phil 'Flat On His Face' Hyde, then Kev 'There's A Funny Smell In The Back' Whiting and finally Annick 'Get Off That Fucking Phone' Hyde. 

I introduce to you: The Vet Saga Spy Group.

Preparation for this outing was mostly in the form of praying for snow. This turned out to be too effective and mostly in the wrong place, causing cancellation of flights from the UK and frustration all round. When the team finally arrived, we headed straight for a secret outpost hidden in an isolated Pyrenean valley.

Here we can see one of our group wondering where the bloody car had gone.

Fear not. Although unexplainable by science, Claire 'I'm Really Really Sorry' explained that, in the absence of any logical explanation, of course it was due to bloody poltergeists!

There had, thankfully, been a significant dump of snow outside our headquarters. Also thankfully this was easily explainable by science.

Although this made breakfast al fresco a little tricky.

Getting deeper into foreign territories incognito was sometimes difficult as Kev 'There's a Funny Smell In The Back' found out to his cost. 

Of course, being equal-opportunity underground agents meant all had the right to take on this much sought-after position, as Claire 'I'm Really Really Sorry' was to find out. 

To better infiltrate this foreign region, we split into two groups. One was to head up into them thar hills,

whilst the other was to wander around aimlessly...

Wandering aimlessly caused one of our number, she of the extremely tight core musculature, fall victim to several of the cunningly hidden bear traps. This caused great concern amongst her companions.

Thankfully, Claire had been down several holes...

After each foray, we were to meet and discuss our findings,

seamlessly merging in with the local population.

The success of this mission hinged on being circumspect with what we said. The 'B' word was not to be mentioned on pain of severe punishment (5€). We wanted none of the locals to realise how important it was for us to get our original passport colour back.

As you can see, we merged in well with Johny Foreigner.

Our search for a secret WMD base was successful

although we dared not approach too closely incase Claire 'I'm Really Really Sorry' slipped to her doom. She was scared of heights and of mildly upsetting anyone.

We also could see in the distance a place where much cavorting seemed to be going on. Typical non-brits...

Whilst in this distant location, we suspected that our reports were secretly being sent by a anonymous spy in our group.

After trying several European non-warm beers...

and stuffing vast quantities of local produce

Phil 'Flat On His Face' proceeded to live up to his pseudonym and consequently break a rib, cutting short our desperately important undercover work, forcing us to return home with our vital information, if not Phil's thorax, intact.

Saying farewell to the foreign mountains, we headed home, happy in the knowledge that we had done our bit to bring down an entire nation.

The Dis-United Kingdom.

Fin

This mission was, in part, funded by the government, in the guise of the Winter Fuel Payment. 'In  part' because all but one member of the team (3½ pints) were born a couple of months too late to receive it. Grrrr.

2018 in Pictures

The last 13 months in Photos

(Yup, it was a long year...)

This is my xmas card to all of you. Hand made with love and anguish, especially for you.

Feast your eyes. Then feast all your other bits as well...

I've added some upbeat music, the first piece my long suffering practice manager may appreciate. Be warned, she ran the Bee Gees fan club...

Don't worry, I'm in recovery...

A Religious Experience

In the beginning, God created all manner of stuff...

(then, several days later)

God said, "Let the land produce living creatures according to their kinds: the livestock, the creatures that move along the ground, and the wild animals, bacteria, parasites, mosquitos, arachnids, each according to its kind" 

And it was so.

(the very next day)

God said, "Let us make mankind in our image, in our likeness (especially Trump), so they may rule over the fish in the sea and the birds in the sky, over the livestock and all the wild animals, bacteria, parasites, mosquitos, arachnids....

Thus veterinary surgeons were created.

Then, around 1977, it all started going wrong...

Every year since then, many of us get together to celebrate the fact that our livers have survived another year. 

This was to be our 42nd pilgrimage. 

Kev & Jane had been given the cruel and unenviable task of following on from last year's extravaganza in the South of France (in that evil place called Europe). 

In desperation, in a radical attempt to compete, they called upon the intervention of Trump God himself. 

This years reunion was to be held in monastery.

Stanbrook Abbey in Worcester to be precise.

It's an impressive building, onto which, to uphold its long monastic tradition, a large concrete block has been attached.

The first evening was spent in the traditional christian way of topping up alcohol levels. Here's Phil explaining that all the bottles belong to Judy...

That evening's food was monastic. I was impressed. I thought only British Rail could reach such dizzying heights.

The next day, after a hearty breakfast (I love it when I ask for an espresso and get what is obviously their normal coffee in a small cup) we were led on a stroll up the Malvern Hills.

Wick was given the honour of carrying the crate of holy water.

We walked at various speeds with various heart rates. Thank God there was an electric fence to keep us on the straight and narrow, and to kick start our tickers when required.

After an hour of stumbling along, we gathered near the summit for prayer. Not everyone was kneeling in supplication.

Spot the difference.

 On reaching the summit we searched for enlightenment a bar.

 even asking a passing monk,

 but no pub could be found.

 Nice view of the local pollution though...

Someone did, finally, spot a pub where we gathered to give thanks.

 Clearly a sign of our devotion.

Fasting seemed appropriate.

That evening we all went to church to repent our sins.

This part of the abbey was kept solely for deeply meaningful contemplation

 We contemplated soulful replenishment.

 We sat to pray that the food would be good. We ate flesh and drunk red stuff.

 Touching was encouraged, as in most Catholic Churches.

Our souls fully replenished (the meal was bloody good, BR must have been on strike), the next day we searched for further rejuvenation. In another pub. Not that it shows any signs of revitalising us as yet...

And so, to the end of another three day liver-enlarging sojourn. Kev and Jane did us proud. Thanks both for all your efforts and your attempts to convert us from the Flying Spaghetti Monster.
See you all next year, by the grace of God, or shear bloody luck...

May your god go with you...

Postscript

Bellow the abbey can be found the dungeon realms where the spawn of hell hang out. Here are the wine cellars, games rooms and lost souls wandering in a state of delirium.
I half expected to find Mike Hayes...

An After-Dinner Stroll

This year, we've not been up to our 'Pad in the Pyrenees' as often as we would have liked. This has mostly been due to me being a temporary hotel manager with guests that insisted I keep up with them in the food and drink department.

This has done my overall health and wellbeing no good.

No good at all. 

As I was about to find out.

As some work needs to be done on our pad, we popped up there for a couple of days for a 'site survey'. Oh good, only new stairs and a garage door...

Whilst there, we were invited by friends (Peter & Babette) for lunch in their new abode, an old farm they moved into a year ago.

After a lovely meal of sea-food starter, magret de canard followed by tiramisu, swilled down with a good belgian beer and a 'couple' of glasses of decent plonk, all was well with the world.

A walk was suggested.

This took me back to my youth when, after Sunday lunch with Aunty Win and Uncle Louis, we'd go off for a walk beside a local canal, ending up with tea and jam sandwiches on a tartan rug. 

The walks were always agonisingly slow, complicated by Uncle Louis' penchant for taking photos of old disused industrial sites. This would always be further aggravated by an evening spent looking at slides of the last walk... 

Yawn...

Oh dear, I've just realised that is exactly what I am doing now...

"Well", I thought, "what could be more pleasant than a slow country walk after such a wonderful lunch?"  The trouble is, canals are kinda rare here, due mostly to those big pointy things that were all around us. Still, no worries, their abode was surrounded by rolling hills.

"This will be easy" I thought.
Uh, no.
We were taken further into the mountains, up to Portet d'Aspet (one of the Tour de France hot spots), where we would start our afternoon stroll in an upward direction.
It started easily enough, peaking through breaks in the trees to see the peaks beyond.

This was to be a long uphill walk,

up the mountainside through thick forest.

There were certainly a lot of trees. 

Until there weren't.
We'd reached the tree line.
I now know why trees don't grow high up mountainsides.
Their hearts give out.
Mine certainly had.

Both I and Aros (the pyrenean mountain dog and erstwhile god of love) were completely cream-crackered. Carrying all that extra weight was taking its toll.

The sun was going down as we reached the top.

We needed to get down fast. Our intrepid leader once more led the way. This guy is somewhat fitter than Eros and I. You can go off people...

Going up was hard for me, going down was harder for Annick. She had broken her knee less than a year ago, and although well healed, it was somewhat painful for her.
I would've carried Annick if my heart wasn't also giving up.

I need to get fit.
We arrived back at base camp in time for the sunset.

And so. If you're looking for a gentle canal walk, the Pyrenees are sadly lacking.
For me? Back to jogging.
And maybe keep out of the food and drink department.
Eesh.

In Search of the Painted Wolf - The Book

You may have noticed that the last few blogs have been dedicated to wild dogs. This, fear not, is the last of them, only now I feel that it's time to rename them 'Painted Wolves'.

No, this is not a European Regulation, yet another daft excuse to get out of Europe.
These incredible animals get blamed for a lot of livestock killing in Africa, but they are usually not the guilty party, usually the killings are done by Hyenas. Not Wild Dogs. Not Painted Wolves. But because of this, they frequently get shot.

So, does the name 'Painted Wolves' sound less dangerous? If you are an antelope, no. If you’re a goat, yes. If you are a local farmer, yes.

The only slight failure of logic here is that the local farmers speak Swahili...

Anyway, I've written a book called ‘In Search of the Painted Wolf’ that explains it all. If you fancy reading it, you can download it here:

In Search of the Painted Wolf

It’s about 200Mb so make sure you have a decent connection. You'll need to download it. It’s a pdf file, best read in Adobe Reader in ‘Single Page’ mode.

My favourite photos of Painted Wolves from the last trip to Africa can be found here:

Photos of the Painted Wolf

Beware, there are over 50 of them.

I hope you enjoy it. Any comments welcome as long as they are good ones...

Phil