Mad Smithy has been here too

Two or even three days ago now I brought home this beautiful pebble, and I was going to write a blog about it - but Mad Smithy wandered over from Tumbling's place, leaving him to blog in peace, and stole my pebble! I was going to do a painting and everything inspired by this beautiful stone borrowed from a nearby waterfall , but it completely vanished within an hour of bringing it home. I have become quite distracted looking for it since and have got nothing done. So here is a blog about the stolen pebble, and no painting either.
Tom Redwing was right.

. . . and suddenly . . .

Where there was merely an empty field before, I suddenly spotted a sturdy, stumpy, sappy growth, rather like an asparagus thrusting out of the scrub. I looked, intrigued. Then I saw amother, then another, and yet more and realised hundreds had sprung up, all overnight, the field of ferns was coming to life once more!


South of my feet it was spring,
and North of my forehead, flowering fern.


Excerpt from The Poet Talks to his Love on the Telephone,
the Sonnets of Dark Love by Federico Garcia Lorca
Translation Eva Loewe and Noel Cobb

Haven of Lost Tranquility

This morning progressed very rapidly from fog to a raving heat-wave. During our morning’s scramble through the forests, Bogey the giant Bouvier became over-heated and took to the cool of the thick black sludgy slime that oozes along the irrigation channels dug between the clusters of spruce. He used them to ploop and glollop his mad navigations home, his feet are mops, his body one huge sponge.

Bear in mind before you read on that it is the full moon today, and to cap it all I am, erm, somewhat ‘hormonal’ – not the tranquil, balanced and quietly reasoning Lixtroll (hemhem) to which you are accustomed. When I tell you that even dear Westerwitch, the most tolerant and understanding human being on the planet went into hiding when she saw the state of me this morning, you will understand.

Burst back out of the forest to find the oil-tanker had arrived and was filling our tank. Completely side-tracked with moving vehicles for the oil man to turn the tanker around to depart down our long narrow track, oh Stupid, Silly Lixtroll. Let the blessed animal into the house unsupervised, where he totally and gleefully ran riot in his stinking slimy state. Result: the new, beautiful, eau-de-nil quilted bedspread - here the lip rather trembles - no, words fail me, I can only turn my face to the wall and sob - I am not materialistic, or precious in the slightest about clean stuff, it simply doesn’t pay to do much housework round here, no white sofas in this country abode, Suzy, but this bedspread is my one luxury. All I can say is that the dog had had a field-day on it. On the one day when I forgot to put the old blankie for doggies over it.

There followed a brief fit of the vapours. Then the bedspread, and this is a huge bedspread (although it appears no bigger than a girl's blouse in the pics), was whisked outside and draped over the decking rails and sponged down with a solution of Oxyclean - no Vanish, hysterical phonecall to Westerwich fruitless, she didn't have any either - and bundled into a laundry-bag, dogs shoved into the trusty wagon, hubby driving (I in not fit state) straight off to the village miles away to the launderette. I have never set foot in this establishment before, and only had fairly vague recollections of launderettes of my childhood equipped with very big capacity machines that will handle almost industrial loads.

Shock horror – the machines, all three of them, were no bigger than my one at home, furthermore the wall was papered with attractive notices saying ‘No Bedspreads’ amongst other forbidden items.
So mad drive back home before the stains began to dry into the fabric and become permanent sordid features, filled up the bath and straight in the bedspread went.

The weight of the waterlogged quilt was unbelievable, leaving no choice but to do it the old-fashioned way – squishing and squashing it with bare feet using body weight. It took me and the Janitor several hours to wash it by hand and foot, gaining first-hand understanding of what our poor female ancestors had to go through on laundry days. So here I am, somewhat resembling Madame Grognonne trampling the grapes chez Un Peu, with the culprit lending a helping hand. The good news is that the weather is hot and sunny enough to spread it out to dry in the garden. And my feet ended up the cleanest they have been for years!

It may also interest you to read that in addition, today has added the incidents of: the bag of dog-meal which had split at the base, the crashing of the computer, the strimmer and petrol saga, the deaf Janitor, the poo in the wrong place, the missing hiking boot, and the run-out-of-stuff-in-the-fridge-so-nothing-to-eat, paper jams, guests in the wrong place at the wrong time, VAT and accountants, and – Oh Ho Ho Ho! – the Cesspits are playing up something rotten again!!!!

Just One of Those Days, as my mum would say. Nothing drastic, all rather trivial – but awfully time-consuming and exasperating!

A Pagan Prayer

I did actually wash my face in the dew this morning. The dew in the Scottish Highlands, in the hills, in a forest clearing. It was irresistable. The sun, still hung low through the larches, swinging rainbows in the jewels on the grass, the beads it had transformed from hoary frost. I raised my face to the parent sun to dry and worshipped at the pagan altar on this day the first of May, the month in which I was born. Snow still lingers on the highest peaks. I removed my gloves and fell on bended knee: marry me with the moss, the rocks, the anemones, the swift burn, the great skies.
I love you so, earth and sun.

A Sorry Pass

A sorry pass indeed hemhem is this blog of the day, for Poo (hubby, Milla, not the dog) got very excited towards the end of the afternoon and called me out to the stream which divides the housey bit of the garden fron the workshop bit (yes dear readers, still under construction, and with girlish excitement he cried, "quick, quick, look what I've done!" pointing wildly at a bit of old futon base with slats missing. This object has lived happily on the woodpile in the woods for several moons now, enjoying the fascinating process of decay which woodlands are good at. Now it spanned our little stream.
"What?" I said, a bit confused as usual.
"I've made a bridge!" he cried with joy, and immediately demonstrated its bridge-like properties by stomping across, lucky he was wearing his wellies for yes dear readers a quick wobble and a brief vascillation and Poo was in the stream yet again.
What is it about Poo and that stream? He spends a lot of time falling into it bless him.
"No, no," he replied as the jolly troll engulfed herself in hysterics and began staggering about on the bank, "it really does work, look it's fine now" and he demonstrated successfully avoiding the missing slats this time. "We can carry the old bench across now and put it in that golden spot of evening sun near the waterfally bit!"

I reluctantly agreed. The journey was perilous, the alleged bridge boinging and sproinging wildly with the load of two people and an old wooden bench, and of course I had pretty shoes on - there are standards to maintain here, after all - which sank pitifully into the muddy banks, but never mind, the bench got safely to the other side. (no, not that Other Side dear).

The bench looked so lovely, in its golden spot beside a trickly little waterfall that ploops and sploshes and tinkles so attractively that I simply had to try it out. A seat in the mellow evening sun, listening to the birdsong and the said plooping etc of the water!

Oh yes, avert your eyes now if you are of a sensitive nature, for in a ghastly air-splitting groan of dowels parting from their moorings, the jolly troll's derriere passed straight through the seat and there was Matron with her ar*e on the grass and her legs sticking straight up and pointing at the sky! Poo was reeling around in delirious joy, meanwhile the old bench let rip a final sort of belch of tearing wood and kindly wrapped itself around the remains of Matron's dignity. Quite weak from laughter (and bladder control getting weaker all the time) it was simply impossible for Matron to extricate herself from the melee. Poo eventaully pitched in with a helping hand, but the operation sadly blew a fuse several times before the rescue was complete.

Need I add that this all took place in full view of the new arrivals who were being shown into the holiday cottage by WesterWitch. Oh, well, it seemed to lend an air of general jollity, and within a couple of seconds the hills were resounding to the sound of merry giggling all round.

Country Matter and Where to Put It

The next two pages are the same blog as this one - it's the only way I could get the pics to follow in order! Part one of three:

Well yes indeed, the Purple One is now one week old, and a party is ON at Cesspit Cottages in the grounds. Lixtroll has been reported to have been out on the hills at twilight surrounded with fluttering bats, sitting calmly (hemhem) in the gentle pool of light spread by an old kerosene lamp on a rise amongst the larches, singing to the four dogs who sat entranced before her, the words of an old Steeleye Span song. Many of you will be familiar with the strains of ‘Black Jack Davey’, which she had somewhat adapted to suit her own mood:

“Late last night when the squire came home
Enquiring for his lady,
Some denied and some replied:
She’s off with Purple Davey.
Go mount me the very dark horse,
The grey was ne’er so speedy:
I’ll ride up hills and I’ll ride down dales,
‘Till I catch Purple Davey. . . etc.”

Her loud strains as he ‘rode up hill and rode down dale, over many a wild high mountain’, echoed near and far across the valley of the Dochart, causing not too much distress to the inhabitants and delighting the wildlife no end.
Read on:

Part Two:
Meanwhile Westerwitch and Matron hosted a bonfire which was full of ‘Country Matter’ hemhem, chicken poo and the like of course, raising it to such a blaze that the cauldrons quite bubbled over and the Janitor perilously drove the 4x4 through the grounds to deliver a double Belfast sink to the shed which one day will be the new pottery. The extraordinarily good-looking carpenter and his simply breath-taking assistant whose eyes matched the colour of the skies today in their rampant blueness made Matron’s hormonal cauldron bubble over to excess, and she had to retire to a cool shady nook for a breath of fresh air to say nothing of Mme Grognonne’s cigars!

Then they all cooked some skool sossages and quaffed mightily of the Red Stuff, and wassailed and generally made merry until the Purplecoombes came home and the owls stood on their heads. Toasting the wellbeing and congratulating the wonderful crowd of erstwhile bloggers who have come to the Purple place in their droves and made it a beautiful place indeed.
Read on:

Part Three:
In the last day or two Matron has had to visit all the lovely rooms at the Towers with announcements, and much to her sorrow was so pressed for time in the race to rescue the Towers from ghastly invasion that she couldn’t stay and make personal comments – but suffice it to be said, the rooms are so impressive – she can only send out her apologies that she could not stop by for a cup of something and to have a chat – but soooooo Well Done to all of you! And WOW what a place this is becoming!!

Golly, now I’ve come over all teary and I have to sign off, it must be the cauldron’s smoke in my eyes; but just let me say: Thank You everyone for being such good sports! We have a toast up here which we use on such occasions: so I raise a glass to all of you wondrous people and shout:

Here’s to Us, and Blugger the Rest!!!!
End of today's blog - thank you (bows and exits left)

The Wiggly Eyed Come Here

It's wild here in the Highlands of Scotland today - squally winds pounding a thick mixture of hail and rain against the house, all the bats will be in the kitchen after Matron's gin again soon!

Speaking of which I have tinkered about a little with the typeface and text colour on here following the complaints from the masses who flock here to eagerly read the literary works this page hem-hem, and I have discovered it's not the gin, or the wine for that matter, it's the browser! (How's that for a classic excuse) I have switched to Firefox and it kindly lets me do an awful lot of things I couldn't before on this site.
Not that it really matters whether you can read all the written stuff, because I never write anything of note, but here's the thing - I like the black background for the piccies! Piccies are my life and I love them and cultivate the little dears with a loving hand, and very soon some of my new paintings will appear here to delight you all hemhem. That is, if I ever get off this darned keyboard ever again!

Now Matron really has to go and do some other work - guests coming into Cesspit Cottages tomorrow! Janitor, fetch the mop and drain-roddy things!

It's Been a Sheep's Bum of a Day!

Phew, another day of madcap shenanigans and mayhem at the Purple Fosses, er I mean Towers, offices in Cesspit Cottages. Mr & Mrs Westerwitch went out at some ungodly hour this morning not to return until the tiny wee hours of the morn, leaving Matron and the Janitor to try and keep the cauldrons on a gentle simmer, attend to the smooth running of the fosses, and take care of the livestock in the grounds for the entire day.

As soon as the Westerwitches departed, the sheep ran into the woods and stood on their heads, chickens stole the skool sossages, owls gibbered, creepy crawlies escaped from the cauldron, and bats fluttered gaily about the kitchens attracted by Matron’s gin. The Janitor fell in the fosses which immediately overflowed, Matron whooped with joy, meanwhile the dogs decided to set up a blogsite of their very own, in their excitement creating about 90 new ones all over the www.

The Highlands internet connection, always clunky at the best of times failed miserably (small wonder after the dogs’ postings) leaving Matron quietly quacking with panic in a corner with a paper bag over her head, while the Janitor wasted loads and loads of time (and money) on the phone to BT trying to get it back again – oh the dread of it all, the little dears running haywire around Purple Towers unsupervised! What if someone got hurt, or fell off the bottom of the page and got lost, what if they all got locked out of the pearly purple gates – but never mind, Mousie is there, and Blossom, and all the sensible prefects, is Chief Patissier around for technical support?

Oh well while the internet connections have popped out of their sockets I may as well blog . . .

PS Hope you all like the earthy country connection of the title of this blog.

Ruby Tuesday

Well, it's Tuesday, and here's a pic of a knobbly piece of driftwood in my collection which looks a bit like the head of a dog which I have named Ruby, because it's Tuesday . . . when I was a very little girl, a long long long time ago, I had an invisible dog. Its name was Doggie and it went everywhere with me. How lovely now to be able to give it an image available for the entire world to see! Of course, they wouldn't, because who would Google Lixtroll to find an imaginary dog called Ruby . . . but how great is this, to be able to put pics up all over the place to our hearts' content!
The pictured knobble also resembles the map of Fife, which is where I'm from.

Matron's Competition Entry

Oh help, am I too late for the new columnist Competition? Am I in the right place?
Oh well, it doesn't matter, for in what interesting times we do indeed live. Today’s TV viewing has exposed certain scandalous behaviour on the part of GMTV, and another programme broadcast later in the evening foraged into the hallowed archives of Blue Peter its very self (shock horror, and much rocking of our very foundation garments, ladies and gentlemen of the country). It would seem that in both cases a Competition was announced with open entry to the general public, whilst all the time the ‘winner’ had been selected well ahead of the publication date of said alleged Competition.
During the running of the contests, many rewards were to be gained to the advantage of said organisations in respect of increased revenue by various means: all off the backs of the innocent competitors who dutifully ran the course, and also of those who paid for their seats to watch.
Matron has never heard of anything of the like in her life, but she has heard mutterings recently about a certain egg and spoon race being held on a neighbouring village green. Apparently the rules were changed half-way through, and a whole omelette was allowed to be carried past the finish on the back of a dun horse (or was it a donkey), anyway it was pretty dark. The other competitors had paid dearly in terms of blood, sweat and tears, and there is a good chance that their eggs could be used to the host’s advantage in future, which is pretty worrying.
Funny that should all appear on TV on our first day of term, but good to know that Honest Joe is in the Purple Coo lounge bar, from which establishment Matron simply must drag herself and attend to the dorms.
Good night all, sweet dreams.

At the start of the New Term

Monday morning and a new term had begun at Purple Towers. A gentle mist settled on the hills and Matron finally emerged from the stately mansions and crawled back to the staff residences at Cesspit Cottages, rather the worse for wear and a little grubby too. Husband Poo the janitor was complaining about being hungry as he hadn’t had any skool sossages all weekend, the new arrivals had eaten them all up, and he had been on duty emptying the fosses to make more room, and he was beginning to smell. Matron had had a busy but exciting weekend welcoming the arrivals to Purple Towers and helping them to their rooms, as well as trying to find one of her own and trying to discover how to get rid of about a hundred that she had created by mistake, and it all had become a little too much for her – she only has a tiny brain, and it gets full up rather quickly; and somehow at the same time the wine cellar became quite empty and no-one could imagine how hem-hem.

So Matron is going to go to the shops this afternoon and will bring in a few supplies, and this evening she is going to sit down with a nice beaker brimming with the good stuff, and then she is going to visit as many of your rooms as possible before bed-time. But don’t panic, dears – no tidying, Matron likes to see rooms in a mess, lots of fluff, fun and creativity, but best of all people relaxing in the freedom they have found and being very, very happy. Blog away dear readers to your hearts’ content!

Great gibbering bats, Mr & Mrs Westerwitch have gone out for a few hours but never fear, Matron is here, and the dorms are going wild. A new front door is under construction and we are still frantically trying to get the keys to work, it has been a tough job because all the girls and a few boys too are whooping it up and whizzing about the place, but the commonroom is holding up, and very soon we can all sit down with a nice cup of gin, er I mean tea. All the rooms are shaping up beautifully and everyone is beginning to find out where everyone else is, and lots of girls are helping with the new arrivals and the bewildered, which is wonderful.

The skool nurse has been busy with a few casualties, but the sossages are on the aga, the cat has been standing on his head with excitement, and the St Bernards have been out rescuing a few who got lost on the way, but all-in-all the roll call is nearly complete and most everyone is accounted for. Luckily this is one of those free-thinking establishments, there are no prefects, there will be no exams, and the moderator can easily be bribed with a sossage or two, everyone is encouraged to mingle in the commonroom, and everyone has their own room to decorate as they wish and invite all their friends around.

Matron has been trying to welcome all the newcomers as they arrive but she is also busy painting the front door, so I will leave you all to your reunion party, congratulate you for doing such a grand job, and go and shovel some skool sossages into the gardener and the dog through the right ends I hope! In the mean time, panic not about getting your rooms in a muddle or being lost in the corridors, we know you are there and the search-party will be out to the rescue.

Please note that we do not encourage the use of gas heaters on the terraces, I've heard tell of it all going horribly wrong in a neighbouring mansion, but thank blog there were survivors!

Blog On

Crickey, it’s been another manic day at the Purple Coo HQ! Well done Westerwitch once again! And how absolutely wonderful to see everyone arriving, and the enormous strength of the Contributors’ List, all old friends reuniting, and even beginning to blog again, and everyone helping everyone else around our new Stately Home. The place is buzzing away nicely. The main thing is that we are all here and free to blog away to our hearts’ content. Just stress-free, honest-to-Goodness Blogging for the sake of Blogging. It brings to mind once again the lovely old poem I came across in the local cookery book, I am posting it again which is a bit of a cheat because I have included it in a blog not so long ago – but it just seems appropriate somehow today.

Recipe for a Happy Life

One cup of confidence
One cup of love
In a pan of happiness
Mix the above
Add a pinch of tenderness
A tablespoon of truth
Stir well in sunshine
Roll out a loving crust
Flour with contentment
Keep all free from strife
Fill with understanding
And bake well all your life

The 'Lost in Cyberspace' quote on the right here has nothing to do with cyberspace really, it is from Tove Jansson's 'Moominland Midwinter'. I love it!

The Morning After

Good Morning merry bloggers! No indeed it wasn't all a dream, we are in fact still here, and more coming in, joining up and getting going on our blogs, finding our way around and linking up with one another. What a day it was yesterday, I think the Choccy & Wine front page had too much for its own good and passed out and went into a sugar coma all at the same time! It won't let me back on anyway, I don't really blame it, it's amazing I let me onto my own blog if you follow. But here I am on said bloggy bit for just now, while the computer literate Mr Westerwitch is endeavouring to set up a chatroom for all of us.

Actually this isn't dissimilar in the way it works from what we are used to - leaving comments on one anothers' blogs, and a sort of Blog Central or chatroom - we'll get there in the end, the main thing is that we have all found each other! I can't tell you what it was like yesterday for me and Westerwitch as you all began pouring in, emails flying about all over the place, whoops and hollers of joy as one by one the familiar old blognames appeared!

Some of you have already created the most amazing pages for your blogs, I know I have had great fun playing about with my page, it's kind of nice to have the customising thingy. Looking forward to Mousie's page - I bet it will be pink and phenomenally accessorised! Anyway, off to read some of yours now, & must get to the laundry this morning. Luckily for us, no guests to turnaround today - hurrah, free to blog!!!!!!Housework? Cooking? Who said those dreadful sweary words!! Even hubby Poo is blogging here as lita-o-peat, gets him off my back anyway . . .

Here's the pear piccy again, as a reminder of those billowy parts of the figure which are getting more and more billowy from excessive blogging and not enough exercise!

It's Good Night from me and Good Night from Her!

Copied onto this blog as locked out of front page

Phew it's been quite a day, hasn't it - Westerwitch & I are completely unindated with emails and messages, so probably easier to post a few quickies here!
Eden says Thankyou to Toady for emailing jep - we have also cantacted her, by the way.
And Bill has also been contacted, you will all be glad to hear!
Elizabethd and a few others you are actually here! we have seen you, - I have had similar problems myself with signing on to leave comments on some blogs, there are still a few problems which we need to iron out, could be to do with enabling comments or something similar.
We have had such a huge response that to view everything on this page you need to go to the Archive button at the bottom of the right hand column and click on 2007! Huge!!!!! We didn't know what we were getting into here but how wonderful!!!!!
Lixtroll is the one with red hair in the photo posted by HappySnapper, the other one of course is our own dear Westerwitch!
Pipany, if you can see this you're on the site - don't worry if you're not appearing in the contributors' column yet, we will get there in the end!
Tomorrow's another day my dears.
Just thought I would let you all know that Frances has joined us from New York, a very big welcome Frances!
A lot of people have opened their own blog pages today, tomorrow we will link all of those pages to the main site.
Please be patient, this will become more organised - we hope!
To do a new post you need to be on this page - you will see the new post button at the top right of this page. Once you post on here you will be linked to your own page through the right hand column here.
We are going to open a big bottle to celebrate now, who'd have thought in just 12 hours so much could have been achieved! we so much appreciate everyone's support today, welcome you with open arms!
Oh hello Withybrook, just seen you coming in as we are posting this - welcome aboard!
Oh also hello RuthF - welcome to you too - we will try and sort out the signing in tomorrow, we know you are all here!
In the mean time - Westerwitch and I wish you all a very good night, it's lovely to see our community blossoming!

A Country Day at the Laptop

Well, goodness me, what a day it has been and not a very country one either! All day with Ms Lapdance on my knee, frantically typing away, and having a great time messing about with my page and finding my way about this stately mansion which is our new country home in the ether. Absolutely wonderful to see so many of the old familiar faces (allbeit imaginary) appearing. Startling developments indeed. Good old WesterWitch has been manically busy all day getting going with this lovely site, put up by her clever hubby for us all. Congratulations WW & hub, you did it, 3 cheers and hurrah!
Even hubby Poo has decided to join the ranks, at least for 1 blog anyway, I wonder how long that will last!
Here is another one of my pics which I have actually put up previously on the Other Place, but I just want to see what they look like here - pretty damn' good actually.
Signing off again & back off to home page to see if anyone else has turned up recently.

Hello my old friends!

Well you have found your good old Lixtroll! For indeed here I am in my new blogging home. After several hours of getting the hang of it here and a quick stab at global domination of the WWW by accidentally starting about 100 new blogsites (all now successfully removed) I am finally all together and here with my pics etc. So Hello to any of my old blogging pals who have stumbled upon me, it's great to see you again on the purplecoo site, and all the very best with your own future blogs!

Many of you dear readers will recognise the angel pic from the angel blog reply to Faith over at the Other Place we won't mention. I have brought her in here to bring blessings to our new home. Happy blogging eveyone!

Off to explore the delights of this new place a little further, and may even try writing a new blog later!

Lots of love, Lixtroll xx