normanhurst wrote:

...where have all the bunnies gone...  

Gone to Devon, every one.

Munching away happily all day here, the little blighters. Whenever they see me returning home from Rosemoor with those little brown paper bags full of plants they jump for joy. A RHS bag for them is the same as a Pret-a-Manger bag for us humans.

Isn't part of the problem that MaccyD's Greggs et al put their bins right outside the shop, not at "cheeseburger eaten" range?

normanhurst wrote:

where have all the bunnies gone...

Spaced out on Ribena by the look of this;

some kind of problem with mr copywrite laws trice, so the vidio's no longer available... so its not just the furry bunnies that have been 'vanished'...

Typical, Norman, we're not allowed to watch psychedelic rabbits.

In other news;

INKY ESCAPES

New Zealand octopus, Inky, stages a daring escape.

Inky Legs It


Inky is believed to be headed for Japan after reading the "What is Art?" thread on Res Historica

Quick! ...

I'll be singing that for the rest of the day now.

seen today while driving through the cranborn chase... 1 rabbit.

Mrs Vizzer has booked us a trip to Palma for this weekend coming. Our time there will coincide with St George's Day which the Catalans apparently go a great bundle on. She had initially had the idea of a city break in Barcelona, but Majorca sounded better and so we have a room booked in a small hotel in the old town. Even better is that this means that we get to avoid the predictable annual whine-fest (from all quarters) which the 23rd April tends to be in England.

The thing is though, that I've never been to the Balearic Islands before. In fact I've never been to Spain and neither have we done any real research on Palma de Mallorca. So I was wondering if any Res Historians could recommend any places for us to visit (of a historical or cultural interest) while we are there.

30 years ago an "archaeological trip" on Majorca was pretty much limited to a visit to Alcudia and what's left of the ruins of Pollentia, once the Roman capital of the Balearics. Maybe they've copped on a bit more in recent years - from what I remember there was a rather disturbing disregard for antiquities in the island, except for those which could be flogged of course.

Pollentia's forum, theatre and some domestic buildings are situated right at the walls of the town so walking around is no problem. San Jaume church doubles as the museum, if I remember right.

On the plus side the remains of Pollentia have been very well excavated and maintained. You pay a few euros to get in to the site, but it's worth it.

I've only spent a very short time in Palma and a large proportion of that was in the British consulate while my friend obtained a temporary passport. That was in in itself a cultural experience. Consequently the only historical place we visited, apart from walking through the old town, was the cathedral and it's worth a visit.

From reports from friends though, you might enjoy the train from Palma to Soller. http://www.mallorcadaysout.com/5.1.html

Thanks so much for those pointers nordmann and ferval. That's loads to be getting on with as it's just a weekend trip. Let me wish you all an early ¡Feliz dia Sant Jordi! and I'll report back next week (hopefully not having had to darken the doorstep of the consulate). Thanks again!

More bunnies;

BBC Watership Down

Triceratops wrote:

More bunnies;

BBC Watership Down

Trike, it serves me right for skim reading a thread but I thought originally the posts telling Mr and Mrs Vizzer of places of interest to visit in Palma were reports of sightings of rabbits in the Palma area.

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

Well, Hispania does mean the Land of Rabbits.

We didn't see any rabbits in Palma but did see plenty of flowers (namely roses) for the Catalan festival of Sant Jordi. As the 23rd April fell on a Saturday this year it was apparently a larger than usual event with stalls along the main streets bedecked with the Catalan colours and selling roses and books - a sort of cross between Hay-on-Wye and St Valentine's Day:




On Sunday we followed ferval's advice and took the old train through the mountains to Soller and then the tram to Port de Soller. A delightful old-fashioned tourist day-trip. In Soller we saw many flags of St George festooning buildings and even on hillsides and imagined that these were left over from Sant Jordi the day before. However on closer inspection we noticed that the crosses of St George (red on white) were interspersed with Moorish crescent moon flags (white on red) in a yin and yang manner:



On enquiry we discovered that these were put up in anticipation of the Fira y Firo, a local festival held in the beginning of May which culminates in a re-enactment of a sea battle between 'Moors' and 'Christians'. A sort of giant mummers play by all accounts.

Culture and history aside - the highlight of the trip was, perhaps, seeing orange trees and lemon trees being both in blossom and in fruit at the same time. I hadn't realised that that was possible.



And the taste of the juice ...

Caro is back! Hurrah!

Welcome back Caro!

And Viz, glad you had a good time in Majorca. Interesting that they make such a big thing about Sant Jordi. I sort of forget that the Balearics are culturally catalan despite not actually being part of the Province of Catalunya. But I suppose it's a bit like here just east of the Pyrenees, which is French but the culture is Catalan, and we too do la Diada de Sant Jordi in a big way too with roses and books. Actually the high point of Catalan cuture was in the 13th century when all of mainland Catalunya was united with the Ballearics under the Kings of Mallorca ... with capitals in Perpignan, Barcelona and Palma.

Incidentally the roses and books thing was originally the idea of an enterprising Barcelona bookshop owner who, in 1923, noticing that the local patron saint's day fell on the birthdays of both Shakespeare and Cervantes, used that to try and whip up business. It's now been picked up by UNESCO as world book day. Flower sellers were quick to note the financial opportunity too, and now a whole "language of flowers" thing has developed, with different coloured flowers being suitable for different people, whether it's one's lover, wife, mother, work colleague, boss etc.

Citrus trees are quite distinctive for producing fruit and flowers at the same time. The fruit take so long to ripen that they stay on the tree while the tree produces the next lot of flowers, the old fruit only drop once the next lot of fruit has started to form. That's the theory anyway, the neighbours have a lemon tree in their garden, but though it flowers every year it never manages to set fruit. We're just to high up I guess because we used to get loads of lemons and oranges when we lived just 40km away but on the coast.

And while we're talking about trees ... how are your ash trees Viz? We have lots of ash here but so far I haven't seen any signs of ash die-back, nor have I noticed anything about it in the local press.

I'm so chuffed to see Caro back, it's cheered me up no end. And that Viz enjoyed his first foray into Spain.

It's been a busy old week here, largely because of running back and forwards to the vet with a poorly puss. My son's cat has a severe bout of cystitis and has had to have had lots of meds and some fairly uncomfortable and undignified treatment, that and trying to get a rather large and grumpy cat into a rather small carrying box has not gone down too well but the 'rave' element here is, aren't vets great? If only doctors were as empathetic.

I've got a fridge full of piggy, a local foodie co-operative (we're dead trendy here these days) raises a few organic pigs on a small holding and sells 'shares' in them some of mine has arrived so there's loin, shoulder and hocks so far. More including bacon and sausages to follow.

Does the weather deserve a 'rave' rating? Snow, hail, rain, gales and really warm sunshine all within a few hours - at least it's interesting.

You must be planning one fabulous barbecue this bank holiday weekend ferval if the old saying about not eating pork in a month without an 'r' in it has any validation. Where does that saying come from anyway? I've known ham salads, for example, to be a central component of the British summer months for at least all of my lifetime.

The weather does indeed deserve a rave rating. It was 22 degrees last weekend in Palma and then we came back home to 4 seasons in one day. Coincidentally with the April snow in the British Isles was the fact that the owners of our hotel had these fun old photos in our room:





Scenes from the great snowfall 'la gran nevada' which the Balearics and much of eastern Spain experienced in February 1956. The top picture shows the statue of James I (of the 13th Century mentioned by Meles) in Palma and the building in the background is the railway station. James is also known as 'the Conqueror' as it was he who defeated the Moors in the Balearic Islands among others. Very little remains of Moorish Majorca which is a pity because Mrs Vizzer said that her favourite part of Palma were the Arab Baths. They are remarkably well preserved 10th Century building set in a gorgeous walled garden with stout palms and other trees and potted plants dotted about:



The Banys Arabs/Baños Arabes are located just to the east of the cathedral which itself is built on the site of a former mosque. We didn't get a chance to see any of Roman Majorca up in Pollensa (as recommended by nordmann) but maybe that's for another trip.

P.S. Meles, it's funny you should mention ash trees as I had a bit of scare last October when their leaves suddenly shrivelled brown and fell off too quickly. I didn't see any lesions on the bark, however, and so kept my fingers crossed during the winter. I'm pleased to say that they're now budding healthily this spring. (It must have just been a hot autumn wind that stressed them.)

A bit late, but I also welcome Caro back.

Here's a story to cheer us up - in spite of all the ugliness and violence in the news at the moment.

A petition has been started in a posh part of London to save Cyril the Squirrel. Cyril has upset residents of an apartment block near the Thames at Royal Arsenal Riverside because he has been hiding his nuts in their balcony pot plants. They threatened to bring in a pest exterminator to - er - exterminate him. But there were immediate protests to save the little creature, and a petition has been started to allow Cyril to remain. He has more or less moved in with one resident, who feeds him daily on a Luxury Nut Assortment - hazlenuts being his favourite.

Cyril's benefactor claims that the squirrel is not an illegal immigrant into the Woolwich Warren (although he is a grey squirrel), but was in fact trapped in a Waitrose delivery van  against his will. Border controls at Greenwich are, however, known to be regrettably lax. Indeed, the article claims it was a Tesco van that delivered Cyril, but I don't for one moment believe people who live in Royal Arsenal would be seen dead accepting groceries - or squirrels - from that shop.  

Here is Cyril enjoying a nut in his trendy and very posh new home:










http://www.itv.com/news/london/2016-06-20/hundreds-sign-petition-to-stop-much-loved-squirrel-from-being-exterminated/

Indeed Temp, anything demonstrating a bit of decency these days is very welcome so here's another one - the Hebridean cat that fancied a nice trip on a private yacht and a wee holiday in Oban.

He is one of a feral colony that live on the pierhead in Leverburgh on Harris and are cared for by the local fishermen because they stop the rats nibbling their nets. Having sneaked onto a chartered yacht he was found and handed over to vets in Oban (166 nautical miles away) and then a cattery looked after him for a week while the call went out for a chaperone for his return journey, the folk on Harris being anxious to get him back. Loganair offered to fly him there but that would have meant going via Glasgow which was deemed a  bit stressful for the wee fellow so a kind lady took him back on the ferry.

Here he is in Oban



And this picture of Leverburgh may explain why he fancied a holiday in the fleshpots of Oban:

And on the subject of feral cats ... I posted here a couple of years ago for suggestions as to how I might go about acquiring a new ratter, in anticipation for when my two finally go ... seeing as mama cat is now 25 years old and her sole remaining daughter is probably just a year or two younger. Well the matter seems to have been taken out of my hands.

For about three years now there has been a feral cat hanging around - it looks almost identical to my little cat so may well be related in some way. The stray one always used to keep a considerable distance, and neither of my two were particularly keen for it to be around, although the dog just thought it was another playmate. Anyway the stranger now regularly turns up at dinner time and nips in to scoff some food from the cats' bowl once my two have finished. They now seem completely unbothered, or just resigned, by the new-comer, as is the dog. The new cat is still very nervous of me, but will now carry on eating, albeit warily, while I'm pottering around outside watering the tomatoes etc, so it's definitely getting more comfortable with me.

So I now seem to have got an heir presumptive. I still don't know if it's male or female, nor how old approximately, but I guess it must be a good hunter to have survived here for several years, though I now put out extra food since it seems I'm regularly feeding one extra. I anticipate that maybe in a few more months it will let me get close ... and then eventually with any luck, and hopefully not too many bites and scratches, it'll be off to the vet for a check-up and snip-snip if necessary. But then after that it seems I'll have acquired a new cat ... and one that's already used to the house and garden, as well being accepted by all the current geriatrics, myself included.

Is it too early to think about a name?

Well, you don't know its sex yet, MM. There is a very confused cat in our village: he was Denis, but, after the necessary visit to the vets was discovered to have been a Denise all along. But the original gender identification has stuck, and everyone still calls him/her Denis. These days it doesn't really matter. But I think he/she prefers Denise when he/she goes out of an evening.

You need a suitably historic name - presumably French?

Well after your cat being called Bosworth, perhaps I should call him/her Agincourt or Crécy?

Catty McCatface?

The Donald is coming to Turnberry this week so the neighbours are preparing a braw Scottish welcome.

Meles meles wrote:

Well after your cat being called Bosworth, perhaps I should call him/her Agincourt or Crécy?

Grimalkin, common name for a cat in the Middle Ages.

Poitiers would be a pretty name for a female cat - or Harfleur. Agincourt is a bit heavy, although Crécy is nice too.

Valmy........................save you from being lynched.

Aux armes pour la patrie;

If it turns out to be a boy, Hastings would be quite good ... it has a certain English nobility about it, while not being offensive to the French. Although of course everyone 'ere will call 'im 'astings. Like poor Doggy-Dog, whose real kennel name is Earl, but who I've always called Pooch, Poochkins, or Poochkje (Flemish) ... but that again is unprouncable by most French unless I spell it out as Poutch, whereupon they do get it vaguely right.

And talking of DD ... he had his annual check up a week ago. I haven't seen a GP for over 35 years but every year he gets his vaccinations and a check of his heart and lungs, gets his teeth looked at, gets his ears probed, gets weighed and then has a thermometer stuck up his bum! The vet then gives him a doggy-treat while I get told off about him gaining 500g since last year. I left laden down with a bag of ointments, potions and ungents (for both the dog and cats) and lighter by about 80€.

Now just days after the visit to the vet he has managed to cut himself down the side of his head just in front of the left ear. It's nothing very serious, probably just from some barbed wire or brambles, but he keeps rubbing it and scratching it with his foot. So today I cleaned it, cut away the matted fur and bandaged it up. He was very good until I put some antiseptic on the raw patch, which no doubt stung a bit (it's like betadine only "specially formulated for animals" ... ie special as in it costs about five times what ordinary human antiseptic costs). Doggy-dog can be a terrible wussy drama queen when he wants to be. I had to wrap his head in some strong sticky crepe bandage to secure the dressing in place and prevent him scratching it off ... but this wasn't made very easy when he slumped to the floor like a rag-doll, whimpering, whining and generally acting all pathetic. Once it was all in place he then started snorting like a steam engine but although I'd got it quite tight he's not being strangled by it, and actually this afternoon he's been running around chasing balls. Dogs eh?

 
"I'm not happy, papa!"

Poor old DD!

I think Hastings is a great name for a moggy.

Hastings and Bosworth - two fine cats with suitably Res Historical names.

A rather chirpier chappy is this little fellow who I found this morning fast asleep right on the edge of the garden door into the cellar:



... it was my own fault because I forgot to close the door last night, but it means I had to be careful not to shut the door all day (my washing machine, dryer and freezers are all down there), and I still have to wait an hour or so longer this evening until he flits off for the night's hunting ... and then I can properly close the door.

Hope MM's DD is on the mend.

A couple of times recently when I did an outing to the "whirly wash" it decided to rain on my way home - twice people stopped their cars and offered me a lift which was kind I think and shows that there are a few decent people still left around.  The first time I accepted but the second time the shower was very light and I was nearly home so I told the lady thanks a lot but I was nearly there.  Did restore my faith in human nature a little.

Thanks for your best wishes for DD.

I took him to the vet yesterday as the cut, originally just a tiny scratch, wasn't healing and was becoming very inflamed. The vet shaved away all the matted fur, gave him an antibiotic injection and gave me a salve to apply throughout the day. I told the vet that the real problem was that he keeps scratching and rubbing the area on the ground ... to which the vet said, "well yes, he's a dog, that's what they do", but he cautioned that putting a big bandage over it to cover the injury and stop him touching it, might be counter-productive as he'll just scratch to get the bandage off. But anyway, today with all the medication it all looks a lot better and is starting to scar over properly ... and he's finally stopped rubbing it.

At at the same time I'm treating Mama-Poes (Mama Cat) for a wound on her head which is also proving slow to heal ... but in her case it's because her daughter keeps licking it. But that is now healing well since the vet gave me an antiseptic which contains a very bitter compound ... just to deter the other cat from licking it. The vet said that it might cause the mama cat to reject the attentions of her daughter and get aggressive with her. But she's not that stupid: she knows it is me that is putting the nasty, stinging, smelly, bitter stuff on her and so she's now rather fallen out with me ... although that hasn't stopped her coming around, rubbing against my ankles and meowling whenever it's dinner time.

Animals eh? If only you could explain to them not to lick or scratch their wounds, and to just leave them alone to heal over.

Let's hear it for Chilcot: his mills may grind slowly but they grind exceeding small.

When we were on the NZ West Coast there was a roaming cat for quite a few years outside our property.  People said it had belonged to a family who left it behind.  Eventually, after quite a number of years, I left a bowl of milk outside for it.  My husband scoffed and said it wouldn't know what to do with it.  But within three days it was coming into our house, though if you tried to pick it up or shut the door it would panic.  I fed it outside and it would come when called - we called it Mageeto, possibly a corruption of mosquito; I can't remember now.  One day it didn't come when called and when the kids finally found it, it was in the coal shed.  She let us pick her up and we drove her to the vet, where they said she was undernourished, had worms and a variety of other complaints.  They thought she was a very young cat, but I knew she had been around a long time, and when I asked neighbours, they said she was at least 12.  The vets put her down, and my eldest son was very upset, as much with his younger brothers for not being old enough to understand how upsetting it was!  He was never going to have another cat, and it was only when married that they got a cat which they left behind with her brother when they left Britain.  They now have another cat, a beautiful grey and light grey striped one.

Cats, Caro, we in our family had also quite some stories....

It was mostly my sister...we accepted in our home circle an errant female cat...as said, my sister...
But that cat brought youngs at home when she got pregnant...and although my father killed a lot, my sister insisted that...and so we got nearly continuously three cats in house...and sister pledged also for a big rabbit at home and she got it...and that female rabbit was very cosy with the cats too...but as we lived near a busy street the cats got continuously killed...especially the tomcats, but not the original mother cat...but when it was so continuously, one got accustomed with it...I think in the middle ages with their short lifespan and all kind of diseases the middle ager had also another look at sickness and death than we, as they were accustomed to sudden death at any moment of life...?
My parents were fish merchants but at home we had nevertheless also two little pigs and a lot of chickens...also rabbits...but after two times the Australian originated mixematose, which killed the whole stock, my father stopped it...

Yes and I forgot an incident, at a certain occassion the original mother cat had younged in my bed, "my" bed!, why not in my sister's one, it was her cat...
And then as I was such a chatterbox, I had told it to the neighbours...of course that didn't please my parents...and I was again "in the corner of the blows" (it's a Dutch expression for which I don't find an English alternative).

BTW Caro, if you want to have a look to my message to you from 6 July 22h23 in my "Isabel Barreto" thread in the "individuals" forum...

Kind regards from your friend Paul and I hope you are a bit better now...

PaulRyckier wrote:

Yes and I forgot an incident, at a certain occassion the original mother cat had younged in my bed, "my" bed!, why not in my sister's one, it was her cat...
And then as I was such a chatterbox, I had told it to the neighbours...of course that didn't please my parents...and I was again "in the corner of the blows" (it's a Dutch expression for which I don't find an English alternative).

Paul one might say that you were in the dog house for blabbing about the cat's cradle.

Congrats to Scotland! Finally a Brit has won Wimbleydon after all these years.

Only 3 years, ID.

He's been a gallant Scottish loser in the meantime right enough, but he was British at least once beforehand when he beat Djokovic in 2013.

Ah yes so it was only 3 years, the first time was so memorable that I completely forgot all about it.

I'm pleased Nicola refrained from flaunting a saltire this time, that would have seemed like unseemly gloating. It was however gratifying to give our dear friends in the south something to cheer about.

Vizzer wrote:

PaulRyckier wrote:

Yes and I forgot an incident, at a certain occassion the original mother cat had younged in my bed, "my" bed!, why not in my sister's one, it was her cat...
And then as I was such a chatterbox, I had told it to the neighbours...of course that didn't please my parents...and I was again "in the corner of the blows" (it's a Dutch expression for which I don't find an English alternative).

Paul one might say that you were in the dog house for blabbing about the cat's cradle.

 Yes Vizzer: "in the doghouse"
http://idioms.thefreedictionary.com/in+the+doghouse

Did some quick research for the Dutch idiom...while it is from our dialect it can have another meaning than in Dutch...
http://nl.bab.la/woordenboek/nederlands-engels/hoek-waar-de-klappen-vallen

In our dialect we say: "in de hoek van de slagen vallen" litterally: (fall in the corner of the blows)

In French they translate it as: "ne jamais avoir de la chance" (have never any chance), "toujours trinquer" (everytime being the receptor of evils)...

Thanks again and kind regards from Paul.

Triceratops wrote:

Meles meles wrote:

Well after your cat being called Bosworth, perhaps I should call him/her Agincourt or Crécy?

Grimalkin, common name for a cat in the Middle Ages.

"Grimalkin" rang a bell from a visit to the British Museum where there was a small (free) exhibition about racing horses in 2012 - mainly concerning the three original Arabian stallions from whom British horse racing stock were descended.  I googled the subject and it appears that one of the stallions, the Godolphin Arabian formed a close link with the stable cat, Grimalkin https://www.petinfoclub.com/horses/profiles/horses.aspx  (see penultimate paragraph). Mind you, I saw another website where it stated that after the horse died, Grimalkin wandered off and was found dead later (implying that the cat had pined away), which is quite different from the account in the link which states that Grimalkin predeceased the Godolphin Arabian.

Hope MM's pets are making progress.

Thankyou for your concern LiR ... both cat and dog are now well on the mend. But yesterday the little cat had a rather embarrassing problem. She'd sat on a tick and the wee beast had firmly latched onto her bottom ... and not just on the buttocks but to the exposed sphincter of her "third eye". I have a nifty little hook-like device for removing ticks but what I really needed was an extra pair of hands. After an ineffectual struggle I eventually co-opted the assistance of the 14-year old lad who's staying here with his parents. So while he held her firmly by the scruff of her neck and lifted her tail out of the way, I could get in close and personal, remove the offending tick and spray on some antiseptic. The operation was a complete success but the cat hasn't yet forgiven me for the embarrassing loss to her dignity.

Poor little thing MM (i.e. the younger cat) but all's well that ends well.

Wrong thread again, I'm losing the plot.

ferval wrote:

https://www.southdowns.gov.uk/mysterious-prehistoric-farmers-and-missing-roman-road-revealed/

Neutral historians? I'd settle for accurate reporting of all things historical. The BBC news has just covered this but somehow a perfectly good lidar survey that revealed extensive farming systems from at least the time of the Roman occupation and probably before has morphed into being '1500 BC' and 'Some of the oldest and most extensive ever discovered' and then it became '5000 years ago'. 

Clearly nobody has ever told them about the Achaidh Cheide.   

The item is about 25 minutes in.

http://www.bbc.co.uk/iplayer/episode/b07k0skw/bbc-news-at-six-12072016

 Ferval,

your 25 minutes site says: only available in the UK...
Did some quick research:
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/C%C3%A9ide_Fields
https://goo.gl/rmNSxK


And as I see it the site seems to be hijacked by a certain Kevin MacLeod...it's all Kevin allover the place...


Kind regards from your friend Paul.

As I followed my friend Ferval...wrong thread too...