Author: anneethompson

La Thuile 2026

Posted by

0


It’s holiday season, so we escaped to Italy for a week. We did very little, so enjoy the photos (but the diary is possibly not worth reading unless you want to see what doing nothing in Italy means!)

A Week in the Italian Alps

Taxi 5:30. Flew BA to Milan from Heathrow. Now, I don’t book the flights, therefore I have no right to criticise. But I would like to say that there are nearer airports, and cheaper flights, and I am not convinced that BA are the best. But that is just my opinion (and mostly I am just grateful that I don’t have to book the flights.

Picked up a Fiat, drove to La Thuile. Apartment opposite Montana Lodge (nice). It overlooks the glacier from the front, and the meadow from the back, so wherever you sit is beautiful.

Dinner in La Grotta, and we had to sit outside, which is not my favourite thing (insects always bite me). Husband had cheesy starter and cheesy main. A LOT of cheese.

Each day began in the same way: I open the shutters and windows, in rushes the crisp cold air, the sound of cow bells from the forest, the smell of pine trees. I make coffee and sit on the balcony reading my little Tanakh. Lovely. Later we have a second coffee and croissant on balcony. No kettle but hob super fast for boiling water. I hadn’t realised the advantage of convection hobs before, they are very space-age.

Our days varied, but we never did very much, we just returned to the places we have enjoyed on previous visits. Walked up to river (the little local shop we used on previous holidays has closed).

I did some washing (yaay). I do like having a washing machine on holiday (this is not sarcasm, I actually do).

Mostly we ate at La Grotta, but it’s closed on Tuesdays–many places were closed on Tuesdays. Actually, most places haven’t even opened for the season yet—coming before July is very quiet, which is mostly good but does limit restaurant choices. We managed to book dinner at Lo Tata. Very lovely. We shared a cheese and meat platter, drank wine and beer. I then couldn’t eat all my spagetti, and received an angry scowl from the owner!

One day we drove to the most beautiful valley in the world. Still beautiful. It was early, so not too hot (excellent) but we got entangled with a herd of cows going to be milked, on a narrow path next to the mountain edge. They were very big (a bit worrying). Made it back unscathed.

It’s hot and cloudy. Thunder is rolling round the mountains and odd spots of rain fall occasionally. Some evenings the storm passed over the valley, which made walking to restaurants rather damp (the day that we had hail, Husband drove, but mostly we walked unless it was too wet).

We returned for dinner in Lo Tatà again. It was busy. They put different parties on shared tables. Boss lady wouldn’t allow Husband to mix meat dish and pasta dish (‘In Italy this is not possible.’) I thought maybe she was joking, both were available on the menu. But no, she refused to serve them at the same time. He switched to a more Italian-acceptable order. Nice food. 

Saturday was a sort of nothing day. I started to pack, we strolled around Gollet and found the restaurant (now closed and overgrown) where we enjoyed an unexpected lunch a few years ago. We watched several lorries unload sheep onto the meadow, then different lorries collected most of them. We tried to guess why. (A sale place? Switching to Swiss lorries? A respite break?) They were still there the next day.

There were storms in the evening again, but it was dry enough to walk to La Grotta for dinner. Nice to be back somewhere familiar with no scary Italian women checking our behaviour!

I finished packing, set alarm for 6 am, went to sleep. It has been a lovely week, and now I am ready to go home. I miss my animals and my books, and just being at home with the routine of days. (Sometimes I wonder if I am slightly autistic, I prefer routine.)

Sunday 

Husband woke at me at 4am to say BA had cancelled our flight and put us on one Tuesday evening. I was so sleepy, I couldn’t think. There was opportunity to try to get on an earlier flight, but I needed to decide quickly. I was too sleepy. I didn’t have my diary, but thought I could probably stay if I could extend the animal care for an extra couple of days. But I wouldn’t know that until England was awake, which would be too late for quickly booking an earlier flight. Chicken-and-egg situation. And I was SO sleepy. Agreed I would get the allocated flight.

Then it was difficult to get back to sleep. Put a load of dirty clothes in washing machine (not enough socks for the extra days!) Sort of dozed until 7. 

We left apartment and drove to Malpensa airport. Three hours, good run. Returned hire car.
Then we headed for the terminal, pushing cases that never roll straight, avoiding crowds of other passengers, into the noise of electronic announcments, flashing advertisement boards, flicking flight information. Just being there, bombarded with stale air and too many people makes me feel tense. Then, just as I braced for a difficult route towards the hotel, there it was. Before we even entered the main terminal, there was a sign, and electric doors opened before us, and whoosh, we were in an atmosphere of cool air and calm.

Checked into Sheraton Milan Airport (Husband had booked it as soon as he heard about our flight). It was very easy. I did not know such places existed. I shall seek airport hotels whenever we travel now.

Hotel is nice. Big. Quiet. We have access to the club lounge due to Husband-who-travels gold card. They have nice drinks and snacks. Our room is okay. Weather hot (35°) so we’re staying inside.

Went for a stroll around airport terminal. Husband ate a Pret. Looked at art in the foyer. This was really good—portraits made from buttons, drink cans, circuit boards. If you zoom in on the photos you will see how clever they are.

Dinner (small one) in the lounge (a bit crowded). It was okay (I wasn’t really very hungry). In room, phoned family.

Monday

I was really tired, so slept well. 

We went to the exercise room, 20 minutes on a treadmill. Then breakfast . Fresh orange juice was €8, so we stayed with the free stuff! There was a trolley of take-away fruit, with little paper bags. Very nice touch. I had an apricot (nice).

We both worked in the morning, then went into terminal for Pret sandwich (never nice). Husband had online meetings all afternoon. These are always very loud, and (not unreasonably) he uses the only desk and chair. I was therefore somewhat dislocated. It was too hot for tourism. I went to the executive lounge (free with Husbands card) and tried to work. Tired, so switched to watching Bridgerton on my phone.

Then they brought in some food I had a glass of red wine. I sat there, Hebrew grammar book on the desk, watching Netflix on my phone, nibbling parmesan cheese dipped in honey and sipping red wine. Not too much to complain about. Now have a headache.

We checked in for flight tomorrow. I so want to go home…

Thanks for reading. I hope any unexpected problems that happen this week are easily resolved.

Take care.

Love, Anne x

PS. Things did not go as smoothly as hoped. I will write a post for next week!

Dear Member of Parliament

Posted by

0


I have been reading the news lately with a sense of doom. Yet again, the Prime Minister has been ousted from office—not because they were found to be undertaking criminal activity, nor having an affair (anyone who can’t keep solemn promises to their spouses is unlikely to be trustworthy in power) nor were they found to be abusive in some way. Nope, yet again, a prime minister has been shoved aside because (in my opinion) other politicians (you) think they would like the job. Of course, this is all dressed up in rhetoric about it saving the country, about taking society in a different direction. But really? Do you honestly expect us to believe that the person who a few short months ago was being lauded as the best leader in the country has suddenly had a personality change? Perhaps has been converted to a dodgy ideology? Has been found to be secretly working for the enemy? (I’m not even sure who the enemy is anymore.)

Now, I should admit, I am not political. I have no interest in the political manipulation that is part of running for office. I want to stay at home with my animals and books, with occasional visits with family and friends. I am very happy to stay in my box and let those with ambition run the country. But please, can you get on with it? Can you do the job we voted for you to do and run the country, and not waste all this time and money and energy in looking out for your own career? Because it seem to me, that being a member of Parliament is just shorthand for ‘wants to be prime minister and will be constantly looking for an opportunity to criticise the current one.’

I am not suggesting that our previous leaders (and there have been a lot of them) were perfect. Mistakes were made. However, have our social-media-minds made it impossible to think in the long term? Do we look at ‘now,’ feel dissatisfied, and holler for a change in leadership? How does that allow anyone time to learn the job? How does that allow for long-term policies which might be unpleasant now but will in time improve the country? … improve the country…now that’s a thought!

Do any of you think about that any more? Do you think about how to make this small piece of land a good place to live? Or do you focus only on the popularity polls? Does it matter more that the voters like you, or that what you are doing is good? I understand this is a problem with democracy—that to be voted for you need to be popular, and if not voted for you can do nothing. But surely, this could be a problem limited to the times of a general election? Surely once we have voted for a party, that party might change focus and become engrossed in running the country? Could you, I wonder, forget about your own career for a few years until the next election, and allow the person who we all voted for, to run the country? We might change our minds—we might decide we made a bad choice—but could you, as a member of parliament, please show some loyalty, some stability, and support that person (in public if not in private) until the end of their term?

I find it disappointing when newspapers have phrases like ‘voted for the person most likely to ensure they keep their jobs at the next election.’ Is that truly the situation? Is that honestly why we have seen one leader after the next undermined by their own party (the party that voted them into the position in the first place).

I have a suggestion for you. Look at the policies of the person who you are voting to lead your party, and choose wisely. But then, after the voters have voted them into power, take some responsibility—stick with them, loyally supporting them until the end of their term. Keep your arguments for the private debates, not the newspapers. Even when they make mistakes (could you perhaps try and help them so the mistakes are fewer, or do you gleefully think that if they go down, you’ll go up, so mistakes are great?) Maybe we need to make this law. Maybe we need to say that unless there is a reason (health, criminality, indecency) we are all stuck with our freely-voted-for leader until the end of the term. Maybe that would change your focus, so that running the country is what matters.

So, Dear Member of Parliament, please could you think about it? About running the country, I mean, not enhancing your political career. Could you consider whether you want to SERVE the people who voted for you, and if not, then look for another job?

Hopefully yours,

Anne

P.S. To my foreign readers, who might have read that we didn’t like our leader because he didn’t support a certain war, please be assured that this is not true. I have heard many views from people who disliked our prime minister (although I personally thought he was okay) and not one of them has thought we should have entered a war which we considered to be ilegal. Just to correct the record.

walking with a stick while a dog holding a large stick and three cats on a forest path

A Bad Back

Posted by

0


My back muscles gave out this week. It always surprises me how this affects everything (which shouldn’t really because obviously all other limbs hang off the back, so when your back is agony, so is lifting a fork or taking a step). If you’ve never suffered with a bad back, you probably don’t fully appreciate what I’m saying (and everyone who has had a bad back will be nodding along in sympathy!)

It’s very annoying, and very bad timing. I was planting sunflower seeds, and I didn’t feel anything aching, so I guess I wasn’t being particularly protective of my back (which is an on-going weakness). I stood up and ‘click’ something snapped. (Well, it didn’t snap, but it felt like it!) I was at the far side of the field, without a phone, and I wondered how I would get back to the house. Mad Meg was not helpful, rushing round with a log and trying to entice me to throw sticks for her. Nor were the cats, who saw me walking (hobbling) slowly and came to enquire whether I would like to stroke them, rubbing against my legs and jumping on my feet. I made it back to the house and told Husband he would have to sort the geese and cook dinner.

walking with a stick while a dog holding a large stick and three cats on a forest path
Picture generated with AI. Not quite me!

The timing was terrible—the day before Husband left for Egypt on a work trip. He did offer to stay at home, but his trip looked fun, and I knew I could manage, so I told him to go. I took ibuprofen (marvellous drug) and rested, hoping and praying that it would be better in the morning. It wasn’t. Which meant I had to cancel tea with my daughter-in-law, which has been a treat in the diary I have been looking forward to. Illness is rarely convenient, life is often disappointing.

I am currently managing, whilst being in pain most of the time. I know it will pass, it’s only muscles/ligaments I think, because if I rest and take Nurofen it starts to improve, and when I move (the animals and me still have to eat) then it stiffens up again. I am existing with life at a new level. If I drop something I look at it, lying unhelpfully on the floor, knowing it will stay there for a week. (It’s a little like being 9 months pregnant, when so much of life is beyond reach.) If I put on clothes inside out, they stay that way because it’s too much effort to change them. Drying after a shower takes on a whole new logistical procedure. I can manage slippers and wellies, shoes are beyond me. I found a nice fat stick in the garden, and now use it to walk to feed the animals. I hobble slowly, like an old woman. Meg bounces along next to me. I can’t take her for a walk, but she seems happy enough just following me around, and she sleeps in my room when Husband is away, so she has become my (rather smelly) shadow. Some furniture (the comfortable kind) is no longer possible—I use the upright chairs to avoid getting stuck.

The thing is, when life goes wrong (and in my experience it often does) then we have to cope with bitter disappointment, and then get on with solving the new problem. I appreciate my back in a whole new way, and I realise that in our modern world of pain killers and dishwashers (but only the top shelf—the bottom shelf is too low!) even a bad back is not so bad. I am very grateful this didn’t happen when I was in Edinburgh for my review, or when travelling. This week I can cope. One day, we will all be old, or ill, and have to adjust to a new way of doing things, perhaps wearing inside-out clothes or eating less well because it’s too difficult to cook. That is life. It has some difficult times, and we just have to get on with it. Perhaps illness is a way to practise, so that when we get to that stage in life we know to live in the moment, to focus on the good things, to not let the pain dominate.

I hope you are currently pain free. Thanks for reading.
Take care.
Love, Anne x

Worrying About Foxes

Posted by

0


Anyone who keeps poultry tends to dislike foxes. I have nothing against them per se, but they kill my birds so I try to keep them away. It was easier before people started feeding foxes, because they are wild animals and had a natural wariness of people. But now people feed them (I have strong opinions about such people, which I am holding in) the fox has lost all fear of humans. Foxes will positively seek out human houses, looking for food. I have seen foxes walking brazenly across my lawn, right in front of the kitchen window—no fear at all.

Screenshot

The trouble is that foxes do not kill for food, they kill for pleasure (like cats). If they see birds, they will kill all of them not just the ones they want to eat. Killing is sport.

The main way I protect my flocks is locking them in a fox-proof cage as soon as it’s dusk, and having a dog. For all her annoyances, Meg is good at keeping the fox away. I am careful when we’ve been on holiday, because the fox quickly learns that the dog is away, and our garden becomes part of fox-territory. I always keep the birds locked inside for a few days, until the fox has learnt there is a mad dog who loves to chase things in the garden.

My new problem is that the geese are now in the field next to the garden—which is a bigger area for the dog to patrol. She goes in there a couple of times a day, and I hope that the scent of her will be a deterrent, but I still worry. Most foxes would probably not bother geese and cockerels—much too much bother, because they are big and noisy and fight back. But a big male fox, or a fox with cubs, would kill them in a flash.

Apparently foxes dislike the buzz of an electric fence, so that is one (expensive) possibility to consider for the future. I did once buy a battery-operated deterrent which claimed to make a noise that foxes would hate. I put in the battery and switched it on—no sound at all. Then all my children (who were teenagers at the time) arrived in the kitchen to ask what the horrible noise was! It clearly worked (on teenagers, if not foxes). I will try to find something similar.

I also thought that maybe, if I made a model of a person, the fox would see a human, and decide to go elsewhere. Afterall, farmers have used scarecrows for centuries. I have no idea whether they actually work, but I have plenty of old clothes, I thought I would try. When we were children we made guys to burn, stuffing old clothes with newspapers (this is a tradition which is impossible to explain to Americans without sounding like we’re very weird). However, I wanted something a little more weather-proof. I looked online for a manikin. They were all over £100, which is more than I wanted to spend (because it might not work). Then I thought maybe an inflatable one would work. I can tell you, looking online for an inflatable manikin shows some seriously dodgy sites! However, Amazon sells some, for using as Halloween decorations. I bought a cheap one. I also bought a Styrofoam head, a wig, some reflective sunglasses—all very cheap, but quite good when put together. I now have a tall thin person guarding my field. Not very realistic if one looks properly—I’m hoping a fox will not pay too much attention but will see it and move on. Perhaps I should spray it with perfume occasionally. Certainly the geese were interested, and all came to chat to the strange person standing in their field. I will let you know how things develop.

A Slow Learner

Posted by

0


When I was teaching, there was a child (who we will call Christopher) who I struggled to teach to read. At the time the school was using an exciting new reading scheme with the characters Biff and Chip and Kipper. It was great fun, especially as the author had included some humour in the pictures for the teacher to smile at as the child read. However, Christopher did not learn the names of the characters, nor any other words.

I therefore searched the shelves for a different reading scheme. I found an old book. Every page had a picture of a house, and the word house written at the bottom. I gave it to Christopher, we chatted about the picture, he read the word ‘house’ and turned the page. We chatted about the picture, he read the word ‘house,’ we turned the page. We chatted about the picture, he read the word ‘h, h, …castle?’ We stopped. I searched the cupboards for something different. Eventually I found an ancient reading scheme, which relied heavily on phonics (at the time—mid-80’s—this was considered detrimental to learning to read unless introduced in the correct way). The pictures and content were completely out of date (the boys flew kites, the girls played with dolls and helped mummy, everyone was white middleclass). But it worked. Something about the books clicked with Christopher, he learnt to read.

I am feeling a little like Christopher this week. After my first year review (see last week’s blog) I decided to allow myself a week off. A week reading for fun, watching Netflix, eating cakes, walking the dog. I have two books to read—one is a novel (a gift from my brother)—the other is a classical Hebrew grammar book. (I fear that reading a grammar book for fun might meet the definition of nerd.) Now, I have been learning Hebrew for several years, but there is something which simply does not ‘stick.’ I understand the basics, and know quite a lot of vocabulary, but some of the grammar I struggle to remember. There seem to be a lot of rules which simply need to be memorised—and my memory for abstract ideas is rubbish.

I have read a few different grammar books—Ross, Lambden, Kelley. They all remind me of when I was at school and struggling with maths and physics—lots of disjointed rules to memorise, none of which I understood. However, this book (recommended by another student) seems to finally make things clear. It’s by J. Weingreen and was first published in 1939. I found a second-hand copy online. There is something about how it is written that makes sense, it appeals to how my brain works. Perhaps because it gives the Hebrew of the grammatical terms.

For example, I have learnt in the past about the rules of ‘dagesh’ (a dot) but reading it as דָּגֵשׁ which means ‘piercing’ for some reason makes sense to me; understanding that it changes the sound of certain letters (בגדכפת) if they appear first in a syllable and not after a vowel, for some reason is easy to remember. I don’t know why. Or, that the definite article (the) was originally הַל (like the Arabic ‘al’) and when it was added to a word, they dropped the ל and added a dagesh to the next letter, so it is doubled. (This doubling a letter to mark a ‘dropped’ letter also appears in English (from Latin): We took the negative ‘in’ then dropped the ‘n’ and doubled the next letter in illegal (not ‘inlegal) and immune (not ‘inmune’). These explanations make sense to me; I remember them.

We all learn differently. I am a great believer in the idea (which I think Piaget stated) that nothing is intrinsically difficult. Everything can be learnt, but we have to approach it in the right way, we have to find the steps that we find easy to follow, and eventually we will get there. Sometimes approaching something from a new angle makes all the difference.

I hope you have a great week, and that you find a way to understand the things you find difficult. I do think learning is fun, wherever we are in the process. Thanks for reading.
Take care.
Love, Anne x

The baby goslings grew like dinosaurs and are now happily living outside. I think one is a gander, so hoping for more fertile eggs in January.

First Year Review (Completely Terrifying!)

Posted by

5


Hello, and how are you? This post nearly didn’t get written–it has been a hectic week. Please forgive any typos, I am writing in a rush before Monday has gone, and my regular Monday blog doesn’t appear (for the first time since 2015, I believe). Usually I am very organised, and if I’m going away or have a busy time ahead, I post things in advance. But not this time. This time I was much too busy preparing for my First Year Review.

For those who don’t know, I’m currently doing my PhD research, part time, at Edinburgh Uni. Every year, I have a review, to check I’m on track and to prepare me for the final Viva (a spoken examination). However, before you are considered a fully-fledged PhD researcher, you have to pass the First Year Review (which for me, as a part-timer, is after 2 years of study). This is a big deal. I have loved researching, and am learning lots of fascinating things. But if you don’t pass the review, the university recommends that you leave. I was very keen to not be thrown out, but I also was far from confident that I could pass. Most of my interactions with other students reinforces my feeling that actually, everyone else is much more clever than me, with a much deeper knowledge base. I feel very new to all this (even though I am older than most of the staff). I was very anxious about it.

The review begins weeks in advance, when I submit a writing sample and an updated proposal. (A proposal is the document which explains what you plan to research, and how you plan to do it.) I wrote a proposal as part of my initial application to the university, but they often change once the research begins (mine has changed almost entirely). There was also a long form to complete, showing what I have done in the last year, what skills I have developed. It all took a long time to complete, and edit, and rewrite. It was a lovely feeling when it was all submitted.

I then began to prepare for the review. My supervisor suggested some aspects of my research which might receive questions, so I read around these areas, trying to formulate arguments to justify my approach. (A supervisor is a member of staff who works alongside you, giving feedback and making helpful suggestions–it’s usual to meet with them every few months.) I knew I would need to justify how my research will be used when it’s complete, and why I have chosen to work with the ‘final’ Hebrew texts (because many scholars consider the ‘most original’ text is the best, and the ‘final form’ was written fairly late — and actually ‘final form’ means different things to different people, so there is not really a single ‘final’ form). I also found work written by the people who would be assessing me, so I could understand their own positions on things.

The day arrived. I was terrified. I wore a trouser suit (hoped to look like I had tried). Unfortunately I have gained weight since I last wore it, so it was uncomfortable and I bulged in the wrong places. I walked to the university, allowing plenty of time to find the room, go to the washroom, comb my hair (which was lucky, because the room changed, and New College is beautiful but like a rabbit warren). I was allocated to a tower room. I walked past lots of tourists taking photos (later they will wonder who the woman in their photos with unfortunate bulges was). I stood outside a large door (like a church door) wondering whether to wait or knock. I waited until exactly 10 am, knocked. A voice called me in. It began.

Mostly it was okay, but difficult. The room was hot, so I removed my jacket. A panel of 3 people asked various questions. Nothing was unexpected; I was glad I had done my homework. It wasn’t a smiley interview, but neither was it too horrible, and once I began talking I forgot about being anxious and submerged into the excitement of what I am studying. I love talking about all the amazing things I am discovering, and I had 3 people trapped for an hour, who could not escape while I bubbled enthusiastically about what I am doing. (They looked a lot less bored than most people who I try to tell! Although they did interrupt a few times to ask questions; especially when I got a bit distracted and started to tell them about something which is really interesting but not connected to what they were asking about.)

Then it was done. I left. Felt exhausted.

Recovering with Husband and an espresso martini.

The university send the result within 24 hours, which is nice. I had passed. Marvellous. I could now enjoy the rest of the week with my cohorts, chatting, sharing papers, attending seminars. It was a good week, but completely exhausting. On Friday I gave a paper. (This means you have a strict time slot to read a document about an aspect of your research to a room of scholars, who then ask lots of questions.) I have never presented a paper before, but I found the process very helpful–it made me write differently. I also made a Power-point of visuals, and used AI to produce a couple of pictures, which was great fun (and much easier than expected).

I am now home. I plan to have a week of nothing, reading novels and watching Netflix and walking the dog. Next week I shall start work again. I love studying, and it’s lovely to know that I now have 4 years to complete my work. I will have annual reviews, but they are more for me, to prepare me for the Viva–the university won’t throw me out now. I am officially a research student, albeit an old one. Great fun.

I hope you have some fun too this week. Thank you for reading.
Take care.
Love, Anne x

Feeling happy with beautiful New College, Edinburgh University, in the background.

Meg’s Diary: A Hurt Foot

Posted by

0


19/1/2026

Meg is extremely unhappy. On Saturday she went in the garden with Husband. When Husband is in the garden, it is often to destroy something—take down a dead tree, pull up ivy, dig up an old root. Meg seems to have noticed, and joins in with enthusiasm—which means that if she goes into the garden with Husband she is also destructive (but not in a good way). He blames the personality of the dog (but I don’t tend to have this trouble when I am in the garden with her—just saying).

Anyway, on Saturday they both disappeared into the garden (one on a mission to destroy) and I started to vacuum (not my favourite thing). In a very short while, they both came back, Husband saying that destructor-dog had hurt herself during a frenzy of destroying old logs. He wasn’t exactly sure what had happened, but as she blasted her way through a bush she yelped, hopped, charged across the lawn and through another bush, yelped again. She was now limping and licking her front paw.

I checked, but couldn’t see any sign of thorns or tears. I thought she may have caught her ‘dew claw’ on something. (These are the doggy equivalent of thumb nails, and some people remove them because they often catch on things and cause trouble.) Saturday evening passed peacefully enough. Meg licked her paw occasionally, but nothing troublesome, and when we went in the field she forgot about it and walked quite happily and then let me hose it, so I thought all was fine. Probably just a thorn which was now gone, or caught her nail, something minor.

Sunday morning, Meg got out of her bed, and her back legs were weird and she was limping. This was a shock. I am very worried about her back hips, because she has always sat ‘wonky’ so I worry they are not properly aligned or something—but she walks/runs/charges without problem, so I have always reassured myself. Now I was worried—had my fears come true?

However, it soon became apparent that it was not her hips but a back foot that was causing her problems. She wouldn’t put it down, and kept licking it. The licking turned to more persistent bothering, and she made it bleed. Which meant we had to resort to a collar—you know, one of those big plastic cones that fit around a dog’s head and make it impossible for them to lick their limbs. We had an old one from when Kia was alive, and we fitted it onto Meg. She was terrified.

Meg sat, shaking, refusing to move. I tried to reassure her, stroking her, talking calmly, being close. Meg bashed her way into her bed (she couldn’t account for her extra width) and did not move all day. She would not eat, nor drink, nor be tempted from her bed. It was very sad. I worried she would dehydrate, so resorted to squirting water into her mouth with a dosing syringe. I was pretty sure there was nothing urgent wrong, nothing deemed worthy of a trip to the animal hospital (why do animals always hurt themselves at weekends when the vet is closed?). We decided to wait until today, and book an appointment with her vet.

Gradually, Meg began to get used to the collar. After about 12 hours, she left her bed and walked around, bashing into things. Her solution to the difficulty of not-fitting through gaps due to her expanded width was to try and force her way through things, and she was very difficult to guide/help. But she did go outside to toilet, and she did drink. No food though, not even when I tried to handfeed her.

We are just home from the vet. Meg was clearly in a lot of pain, and actually snarled/growled when she was examined (which is the first time she has ever done that). Her temperature was 42 (should be 38) so there is some kind of infection. She did not keep still (this is an understatement—think ‘trying to contain a hurricane’ and you will get the picture). The vet sent us away with antibiotics and anti-inflammatories and told us to return in a couple of days if no improvement. (Their Xray machine is being fixed, but will be ready on Wednesday. Plus I think he needed recovery time after trying to examine Meg.) He said it might be a broken toe, or a thorn—either way the treatment is the same. If no better on Wednesday they will sedate her (never good, because there are always risks) and do a proper examination. Poor Meg.

I fed her a piece of cheese with her pill. She very quickly managed to separate the two and spit the pill sideways out of her mouth, into the cat bowl. (I think this was a fluke!) I then gave her just the pill (she is very good about me putting things into her mouth) and waited until it was gone.

I took her into the garden and she spent a long time attempting to pick up a log while wearing the plastic cone. We have bought a replacement cone, because I don’t think the current one will survive until Wednesday. Nor, I fear, will the door frames which get thoroughly bashed. I am hoping she gets the hang of her increased width soon.


21/1/2026

Meg is still not used to the added width of the cone (which she is wearing to stop her licking damaged foot). She simply rams it with increasing force at whatever object stands in her way. The cone has a huge crack in it—I doubt it will last more than one more day. Luckily, her foot is healing well. She went back to the vet, who said it was extremely unlikely that anything is broken. She has to continue with her meds (penicillin and anti-inflammatory) but she seems to be doing well. It certainly has not slowed her down, not now she is used to the scary cone (which made her petrified for 12 hours).

25/1/2026

The cone has gone. At least, during the day Meg no longer wears it. This is at partly due to the fact that I could not cope with the pain of it crashing into my legs whenever Meg was trying to force her way past me, or round me, or through me. The hard plastic cone would dig into my leg, causing bruises and pain. Therefore, I made the executive decision that during the day, Meg’s foot is well enough to risk occasional licks. We put the cone back on last night, because I worried the foot might get chewed during the night when no one was watching, but first bash at 7 a.m. this morning, it was removed again. It is entirely possible that Meg realises this and is bashing me on purpose—if so, she has won. Such is life with a GSD.

It is rather wonderful to be able to walk her freely again. I have taken her to the woods a few times, and it brightens my day to watch her bounding through the trees, stick (log) in mouth, tail wagging. Her whole body shows her delight, and it’s contagious, I cannot watch her happiness and not feel the joy myself. Maybe this is why God invented dogs, they teach us what joy is. (And resilience!)

Ancient Mesopotamian city with city walls, ziggurat, river, and people at sunset

What is The Apocrypha?

Posted by

0


As part of discovering what is ‘scripture’ and which books different Christians accept, I have been looking at the Apocrypha. These are the books that were written later than the books of the Old Testament/Hebrew Bible, but before the New Testament. I need to choose my words carefully here—I want to say ‘Before the Hebrew Canon’ but actually, the date the books that were fixed in a ‘closed canon’ (ie a closed list, no other books could added) is a little vague, and surprisingly late. The Jews definitely had books they considered ‘scripture’ but as to which books joined the Torah as ‘canon’ was fairly recent.

The books of the Apocrypha were included as part of the Septuagint (an ancient Greek translation of the Hebrew Bible, referred to as LXX—which is much easier to write even if the reasons for using the Roman numbers is more based on myth and legend than fact).[1] In some Bibles they’re sectioned off, labelled as ‘Deuterocanonical Books’ and lumped together after Malachi and before the New Testament. (‘Deuterocanonical’ was a word created in 1684, to mean ‘second canon’—which some take to mean a less-important canon, or ‘not really part of the canon’.) As with most things in Christianity, there are a variety of views. Some Christians hold the books as Scripture, and will read and discuss them in church. Others think they are useful for helping us understand God, but not as reliable as the books in the Bible, therefore should be read but not given the same weight as biblical books. Others suggest they are ‘not real’ or ‘false’ scriptures (and sadly use this view to point at people who they consider are not ‘real’ Christians because they don’t stick to the ‘real’ Bible). This makes me wonder why God bothers with humans at all—and yet he does.

Now, I personally do not have a view on these books at all, and until now I have never read them (because I grew up in a church which took the final view above). But I was interested to learn that New Testament writers knew them, and may have been influenced by them, and possibly used them in their own writing. I therefore decided they were something I should read. I will let you know what I think. In the NRSV, the first Apocryphal book is Tobit. Below is a quick synopsis.

The Book of Tobit

Elderly man writing on a scroll by lamp with ancient cityscape background

The Book of Tobit was probably written in Aramaic during the 3rd century BCE (estimated dates range from 225 to 175). It was possibly written as a folktale rather than history. The story is set in 8th century BCE.

The story begins by describing Tobit, a man from the tribe of Naphtali (one of the sons of Jacob) who had been taken captive during the Assyrian invasion of Israel and was living in exile in Nineveh. Tobit was a righteous man. Before captivity, he went to Jerusalem to offer sacrifices, he gave alms to the poor and he kept to the dietary laws of Moses. He married an Israelite woman, and had a son called Tobias. After captivity he still kept to the dietary laws and because he was righteous, the ruler favoured him and he often travelled with his work. On one occasion, he left some money with ‘Gabael’ (we aren’t told who this is) in Media. Then Sennacherib[2] becomes ruler, and life is harder. Tobit spends his time burying the dead which have been left to rot. When Sennacherib heard that Tobit was burying the dead bodies, he was angry. Tobit runs away, and everything he owns is confiscated. When Sennacherib is killed by his sons, Tobit returns.

Ancient Mesopotamian city with city walls, ziggurat, river, and people at sunset

There is a little scene when Tobit is about to enjoy his Pentecost meal, when someone tells him about a dead body left in the market place. He leaves his meal, buries the body. (This is later significant.) He is very tired, sleeps in a courtyard and becomes blind from sparrow droppings. (No idea whether that is really a thing.) Tobit becomes depressed and grumpy. In despair he prays to God and asks to die.

The next section seems unrelated (perhaps the ancient text had a section missing?) We suddenly learn of Sarah, who is oppressed by a demon that kills every man she marries. She also prays to God, wishing she was dead but knowing this would hurt her parents.

We learn that both prayers were heard by God, and the angel Raphael is sent to help. In a nutshell, Raphael guides Tobias to collect the money Tobit left in Media. On the way he finds a miraculous fish that dispels the demon plaguing Sarah and Tobias marries her. He then takes his wife, and the money, and the miraculous fish back to Tobit and the fish restores his sight. Raphael then reveals he is an angel, saying Tobit has been blessed because he left his meal to bury the dead. Tobit lives to a good old age. Before dying, he has visions of a new temple in a restored Jerusalem, and he warns Tobias to leave Nineveh. Tobias moves to Media before Nineveh is conquered, and he too lives a long life before he dies.

***

There are some interesting overlaps with some New Testament texts. Mt. 6:1-21 is all about being holy in private, and storing up treasure in heaven. Mt. 7:12 says to treat others how you would like to be treated, which is also written in Lk. 6:31. These ideas appeared first in Tobit. There are also descriptions in Rev. 8 which mirror some of the imagery in Tobit.

So, what do I think? I didn’t read anything that was ‘missing’ from my own Bible, so I wouldn’t feel the need to expand my canon to include it. However, there was nothing that contradicts the message in the Bible—the theme of the story is about living a good life, trying to be who God wants you to be, and God being all-powerful yet also present. Some of the imagery was interesting—like that the angel Raphael described carrying the prayers to the presence of God. We cannot understand what happens in the heavenly realm, but like the imagery in Revelation, it can be helpful. It reminds us that prayers are not empty words, they are a way we present our longings to God.

Whether the New Testament writers were trying to present the ideas of Tobit, or whether this was simply part of their culture is impossible to say for sure. But it is certainly possible they may have been influenced. This doesn’t cause a problem for me—I don’t believe God dictated the texts, I believe they were human writers, part of an ancient culture that included all kinds of different influences and it would be natural for some of that to be reflected in what they wrote. I don’t need for it to have been written in ‘holy isolation’ for God to be able to speak through the texts. I personally would not consider Tobit to be ‘scripture’ but that probably is more due to my upbringing than any scholarly reason. I certainly would not consider those who do include it to be ‘wrong’ or ‘misguided.’ What do you think?

Thanks for reading. Have a lovely week.
Take care.
Love, Anne x

[1] Gregory R. Lanier and William A. Ross, The Septuagint (Wheaton, IL: Crossway, 2021). This book explains about the different Greek translations of the Hebrew Bible, and how the LXX evolved.

[2] Sennacherib and Nineveh are historical; you can see artifacts relating to them in the British Museum.

Meg’s Diary: Introducing a Cat

Posted by

0


11/1/2026

Mandy has moved into the house. I have some cats, which originally came from a farm and they have always lived outside. When I have needed to bring them inside (because one is injured) they have been very unhappy, constantly seeking ways to escape. They live in the workshop, and I feed them, take them to the vet for vaccines—just as if they were pets in my home, but they live outside. They do not like Meg, because she chases them. I have tried to stop this, but other than using one of those zappy collars (which seem cruel to me) I can’t think how to train her not to chase them. Luckily they are much faster than her, and can climb trees, so she has never managed to bounce one.

However, several months ago, Mandy left home. I did not see her throughout the whole summer, and I assumed she had either been run over, or had moved home. But then, just before Christmas when the weather turned very cold, I began to see her, in the fields near the house. She wouldn’t come near enough for me to catch her, but she has very distinctive markings, so I was sure it was her. Then one morning, a woman knocked on the door, saying she had found a cat wandering in the lane and planned to take it to the vet (not sure why, as it could have been a feral cat—there are several on the farm)—unless it was mine? It was Mandy. I managed to catch her, and brought her inside.

Now, just before a busy Christmas is not the best time to sort out an animal who wants to live rough. Therefore, after a quick check-over by the vet, I gave her a heated bed and food and water, and left her in the garage. This was fine over Christmas, but she could not live there for ever. I suspect she moved out because she doesn’t like Meg. But it’s not safe for her to live rough, especially in the winter. I am now trying to persuade her to live inside. If I cannot train Meg to not bounce her, and I can’t persuade the cat to be happy inside, then I will have to rehome her. (The cat, not Meg. Although sometimes it’s tempting.) I shall give it my best attempt.

Currently, the cat has her food, water and litter tray in a dog crate, next to the one where Meg sleeps. Whenever Meg is outside, or in the rest of the house with me, the cat is free to wander the kitchen. When Meg is in the kitchen, the cat is shut into her crate. At first there was a lot of hissing, but things have started to settle down.

I had the cat from birth, and she had lots of interaction with Kia, my previous (wonderful) GSD, so she is not scared of dogs per se, just wary of bouncy Meg. Therefore, now she realises Meg cannot reach her in the crate, she simply ignores Meg.

In contrast, Meg is fascinated by the cat. She now chooses to lie, right next to the cat’s crate, poking her nose against the bars. Sometimes the cat slaps her, sometimes they sniff noses. Whenever the cat eats, Meg goes to her own bowl and eats her food. The only times she barks at the cat is if she sees us stroking the cat, so now I am careful not to do that. I am trying to encourage Meg to see the cat as hers, something she needs to protect. I tell her to lie down when she gets bouncy, and I stroke Meg until she is calm.

My plan is to gradually decrease the barriers between them, keeping Meg busy with something so the cat becomes ‘background,’ something normal. Not something exciting to be chased. I don’t think this will transpose to outside, when I am pretty sure Meg will continue to chase anything that moves, but I am hopeful this will be different inside. I will next start with a psychological barrier (the vacuum cleaner—Meg will never step over it, she hates it). Not sure how this will go.


17/1/2026

The cat/Meg combo continues to improve. I am aware that a single mistake, whereby Meg decides to chase the cat, will end the possibility of them both living freely in the house together. But so far, we are making tiny steps in the right direction. They continue to have crates next to each other, and happily sleep/eat with only the bars between them. They seem very relaxed together, although there is usually still a barrier between them.

This week I have allowed them limited time in the same space—always when Meg has been given a ‘mission’ first. This means her focus is on whatever ‘job’ I have given her, and so although she knows the cat is under the table, or on the chair, she ignores her. For example, I will tell Meg we are going in the garden, or to get in the car. Then I open her door, and Meg goes straight to the car/garden, ignoring the cat. So far, so good.

I have also, while I have been in the kitchen, used the vacuum cleaner to divide them. The cat was asleep on the chair, I put the vacuum cleaner on the floor next to her, and released Meg. Meg was perturbed, and kept an eye on the cat, but did not pass the scary cleaner. Eventually she relaxed, and lay down. This gives me hope that I will manage to make the cat ‘boring,’ something to be ignored.

The cat takes no notice of anything. She was born in the garage, and I had read that anything a cat encounters in the first 10 days it will accept, but after that it will never change (which is why a feral cat is always a feral cat, however much it is nurtured in later life). I therefore made sure my kittens encountered as much life as possible in those first 10 days—I vacuumed the garage, Kia my GSD went in regularly and licked them (oh, for a lovely calm GSD again…) they had the radio playing, etc. This means the cat is now very chilled. As long as I can keep her physically safe from Meg, and not allow chasing or bouncing, we should be fine. One thing I learnt is that Meg is jealous. We made the mistake of stroking the cat, and Meg in her crate was very angry and started to bark. I can stroke the cat, but I need to engage Meg first, tell her that I am going to stroke her cat—somehow let her be involved. I don’t know why this makes a difference, but if I talk to Meg throughout the interaction, she seems happy with my stroking or carrying the cat. I try to limit this to a few minutes, and then I go back to Meg and praise her. They cannot become rivals, that would be bad.

April 2026

Unfortunately, the cat now lives outside. Meg and Mandy did cohabit relatively peacefully together, and although they were never alone when unsupervised, they did seem to tolerate each other. However, Mandy decided that my plant pots made better places to poop than her dirt tray. I cannot cope with poop in the house (I was a terrible mother when potty-training my children.) Definitely cannot cope with a dirty cat in the house. We therefore made a safe place in a shed, with a dog-free exit route. Mandy seems happy, and has not returned to her homeless state.

Shame it didn’t work. But that is often how things are with animals. Hope your own plans go well this week. Thanks for reading.
Take care.
Love, Anne x

My wonderful Kia with a kitten.
Not Meg…

Elementary students taking a science test at desks with teacher monitoring

In the Classroom

Posted by

0


I loved teaching. I enjoyed being with children. Perhaps because they were mostly uncomplicated, and very honest, and you could be uncomplicated and honest in return. If they felt cross, they didn’t try to hide it. If they liked or disliked something, it was obvious, there was no pretending. I like that.

But, occasionally, there was a child who was different. A child who was very manipulative, not a team player, completely unmoved by their impact on the other children, very determined to get their own way. As a teacher, you learnt very quickly to spot these children, and to keep an eye on them. They were not to be trusted. ‘What you see is not what you got.’

Elementary students taking a science test at desks with teacher monitoring
Students attentively taking a test in a classroom setting

These children did not believe they were part of the class, the rules did not apply to them. They were sneaky, and tried to avoid being caught misbehaving–passing the blame onto someone else if they could. They would also create distractions. Some children were unsophisticated, if they wanted to divert attention from something they didn’t want you to see (like that they hadn’t learnt the words for the spelling test and therefore had answered incorrectly) they would just yell. Or throw something. Or hurt another child. Anything to divert attention from what they hoped you wouldn’t see–because these children do not like to ‘fail’.

But some of them were more sophisticated, they would create a phantasy, perhaps get another child involved. Perhaps they would ‘fall over’ when walking to the playground–and it would be because ‘Julie pushed,’ not their fault. And then they would be very brave, very forgiving of Julie. As a teacher, you learnt to notice things. The ‘fall’ would look slightly staged. They would ‘recover’ a little too quickly. They might respond in a pre-prepared way: ‘If I hadn’t been told to walk to the playground, and you had let me play in the classroom, this would not have happened.’ There would be something a little ‘off’ about the situation and their reaction. As the teacher, you would try to be aware of what they might be trying to avoid, the reason for the theatrics. As a teacher you would try to not be fooled by the performance. You might ignore the fall (which would anger them) and instead help them with learning spellings. You would try to notice what was actually happening.

Young girl sitting on playground floor crying with injured knee

But I am describing a situation in the classroom. What is more worrying is when I meet or see these people as adults, perhaps as leaders. When they still don’t think the rules apply to them. When they still try to avoid the consequences of their actions by creating a diversion. One which is convincing, yet there is something a little ‘off’ about the situation. Something which makes you wonder what the truth is. I have learnt to listen to my feelings, if something feels ‘off’ it probably is.

In the classroom, these children can be helped–although I am no expert here, and some need specialist help. But they can learn to control their selfishness, they can learn that there are consequences for breaking rules, they can learn not to hurt other people. When they reach adulthood, I’m not so sure… But I’m a teacher, I can only really talk about in the classroom.

I hope your interactions this week are with people who know how to behave. Thanks for reading.
Take care.
Love, Anne x