Last Street In Manhattan 5

Love that jaw.

Last Street In Manhattan 4

Just one today - but a beauty.

Would you Adam and Eve it?

(For the uninitiated, that's Cockney rhyming slang for Would you believe it?)

Greg and his partner came to collect Louis today. Seeing the poor boy caught was a bit traumatic (more so for him, he's not been caught for going on 15 years). This evening I thought I'd take him a piece of biscuit, then I remembered...

Once Greg and his lady had gone, I found she'd left her handbag slung over the back of one of my chairs. I felt dreadful, but searched inside for her phone to try and call his phone and get them to turn round before they got too far, but his number wasn't in her call list or in her recent calls list. So I left a message on their home phone call minder.

When Greg called, it was from a call box - there have been lots of storms today and their phone line is down, along with their broadband. Apparently he doesn't have a mobile phone, so their only chance to make and receive calls at home is her mobile. Which is still at my house! What are the odds?

Anyway, Louis is in a cage facing his new girlfriend Martha through the glass into her aviary, and they are already showing interest in each other. In a day or two they will be together. I'm so pleased for them.

Now all I have to do is get the handbag home safely!

End of an Era

Tomorrow my orange winged Amazon Louis is going to his new home.

I've had him for about 14 years, and have never handled him - he just hates people. I think he was wild caught and imported under terrifying conditions.

Since Henry died nearly 2 years ago, Louis has spent all his time out of his cages (I never got rid of Rio's or Henry's cages, so he has 3 to choose from) but he never gets to go outside in the fresh air, because I cannot get him into a carrying cage. He sits on the back of the sofa and looks out of the window at the wild birds and the passersby.

Louis is going into a big outdoor aviary with a female friend of the same parrot breed. Unfortunately he has a 3+ hour journey to get there. Always assuming his new owner (a parrot behaviour specialist who is much respected in the avian world) can get him into his travel cage!

Picture of Greg and friend from his website

To be without a parrot after what must be 17 or 18 years will be strange, but it's best for Louis, and in the end it's best for me, too. Parrots can live a long time, and as I get older I realise I have no one younger to care for a creature who may outlive me by many years.

Last Street In Manhattan 3

I think Bobby's enjoying the gentle sparring with his shrink.

I love it when he has tufts of hair sticking up!


The eyelashes are still dramatic.


The gentle smile would make him look handsome - if he were not drop-dead gorgeous already!

Gawd Bless Blogger

For several days I've been posting, and commenting, via Firefox, on account of being unable to sign in to Blogger on Internet Explorer. All I got was a constant "click, click, click" as the tab wouldn't connect. Yesterday somehow I was signed in for commenting but still couldn't get to my Blogger Dashboard! During this time I have:

• checked my script settings


• cleared my cookies


• deleted my browser history


• updated Internet Explorer

all to no avail.

Yesterday I updated Firefox. Terrible idea. I didn't like its way of dealing with favourites before. Now I like it even less, plus I hate the way it now does its tabs.

So I tried IE again, and this time, I couldn't even complete the sign in form. It just acted as if I hadn't put in my password. So in desperation I clicked on the "can't sign in" button, entered my blog's URL, it sent me an email and - bingo! Suddenly everything works. And I still don't know why a few days ago suddenly it wouldn't work.

Last Street In Manhattan 2

Bobby and Vincent having fun.

Running and jumping to arrive first...


...to get to the named chair of one of the "actors".


High-fiving one of the students at Vanessa's school.

I truly believe they've been having the time of their lives making this season's episodes.

Danger! White Tiger At Large

Tourists were alarmed yesterday when they spotted a white tiger in long grass in a field near Southampton. After several phone calls, the police took a look and called out the air support helicopter. A nearby zoo supplied a tranquilliser dart. The golf course next door was evacuated. The forces of good closed in on...

...no, not this.

This is what the helicopter found when it failed to get a reading from its heat-seeking camera:

They're wondering if it was a hoax.

Gee, d'ya think?

Last Street In Manhattan 1

"It picks up after the second million pages."
Well, Alex, you might have given up after the first million pages,
but I stopped reading my Proust set text when I realised
there hadn't been a full stop for a page-and-a-half!


Bobby really looked like he wanted to go on the dating agency books!
He'd forgotten he couldn't afford it. But we all know we'd pay for a
date with him, it wouldn't cost him a penny.

Kill The Irishman

Just love him in specs.

Open Day at the cemetery

People in places like Paris will understand that cemeteries can be tourist attractions. In London, there are a few famous ones - Highgate in particular, which contains the graves of many famous people, including Karl Marx.

As the churchyards filled up, Victorian London expanded to take its dead further and further out. There was even a Necropolis Railway to take the dead to their final resting place.

Nunhead Cemetery in south London is not so far out and not so famous, but it is a protected site, and there is a Friends of Nunhead Cemetery group which has an open day every year.

This is the chapel, which is roofless now.

Most of the site is a nature reserve, the graves overtaken with brambles, nettles and young trees and bushes. Several years ago - perhaps 9 or 10 now - when I started on my family tree, and rediscovered my cousin Percy, he told me our grandfather was buried in Nunhead Cemetery, and gave me some documents he had acquired that showed where granddad's grave was. It was a communal grave, and as such had no headstone, just a marker tablet. I found out where it was and located it, moved with others against a nearby tree. Later I took Percy to see it. We planned to move it to our grandmother's grave in a north London churchyard.

It never happened. But today I decided to go to the open day and have another look, and maybe find someone to help me lug the heavy lump of stone to my car.

Alas, I couldn't get anywhere near the cemetery in my car. The road was too narrow to allow to cars to pass for most of its length, and the number of visitors' cars parked nearby was huge. I parked in a nearby street and limped my arthritic way to the gate.

Sadly, the relevant part of the cemetery is now even more overgrown, and in a skirt and sleeveless top I couldn't have got near it even if I could have recognised it without serious injury.

Oh well, all is not lost - tomorrow is another day.

Sweetest Thing Ever

Before the death of little Tiny, I had promised a couple of friends to take them to the zoo. I could barely bring myself to enter the place, but a promise is a promise.

They had a good time, and it was interesting to learn from a well-informed anonymous source that the baby gorilla was put in with the adult male at the insistence of some high mucky-muck self-styled expert, against the will of the keepers. I have contacted ZSL and suggested that this person or persons should be put in with big Kesho and left to fend for themselves just as the poor little baby was. I won't hold my breath.

Meanwhile, one friend who had not been to the zoo since her childhood wanted to see the tropical bird house. We couldn't believe our eyes when we spotted these two baby crowned plovers with their parents.

They are very well-camouflaged. One is in front of the bird on the right, the other is between the adults:

Here are the two little soldiers marching in a line:

They decided to snuggle up under the parent's breast, and just after I took this photo, all that was visible (just) was two pairs of little legs:

Squee or what?

Boots On The Ground 4

Four More


Hand in the pocket, jacket splayed.



Manhandled by The Man



The eyebrow thing



Guilt and regret

A Peaceful Afternoon in the Garden

The day's work is done, the shopping in the fridge. The hens are having a dust bath,. Nothing to do but relax in the garden with the gentle twittering of the birds:








Er, make that the screeching of the baby starlings begging for a feed.

Bless. Their numbers were seriously depleted a few years ago. Glad to have them back. Even in the early morning...

Boots On The Ground 3

Three for free.



Hand to mouth


The Goren Dip


Support your local wall

Boots On The Ground 2

And yes, it's a twofer (two for the price of one in case any non-Brits aren't familiar with the abbreviation).

Bobby perched on the edge of the desk adjusting his trousers...



...and offering a tempting glimpse of the Python in its pants:


Shame about that shadow.

By the way, I've edited yesterday's picture for colour so pop back and have a look.

Boots On The Ground 1

A single iconic Bobby picture per day, this week.

Today, the smile.

Ruthless Rhyme

Mr. Jones

"There's been an accident!"they said,

"Your servant's cut in half; he's dead!"

"Indeed!" said Mr. Jones, "and please

Send me the half that's got my keys."

The Good, The Bad and The Dreadful

Alex's party went with a swing last night. He was surrounded by friends and family in a local hall, with bands and disco.

This morning, I got a surprise in the post (no, not Alex's signed photos from Liverpool Football Club, they arrived yesterday at his home Special Delivery). I was amazed to see this on one of the envelopes the postie delivered:



And inside it was this:

Which one of you lovely people made this happen? I am so delighted, I want to give you a big kiss!

Of course, the Royal Mail being as incompetent as it is, an envelope which had travelled across the Atlantic in pristine condition, got as far as my door before being folded to push it through. Luckily no serious harm was done, but I see another complaint coming on. Not that they've replied to the last three yet...

Today was the Kensington Dolls House Fair. After the Christmas one, I did a post about Mulvany and Rogers and their fantastic houses based on real life palaces. Here's a picture of their latest exhibit, which is a fantasy scene set in one of the Palace of Versailles luxurious outhouses:

The dreadful news is that the darling baby gorilla I've been visiting and cooing over for months has died after being introduced to the new male, who injured him during an introductory session. How could they have been so careless? They knew the risks, they should have been taken proper precautions. I'm not the only one who'll be devastated:

Time's short

I have to get ready for Alex's party, so just a quickie.

Don't poke your tongue out at me, Mr D'Onofrio. I might have to force it down my throat ;-)

Thanks to news.com for the picture.