The Bluestocking, a unique location for daughters and sisters of earth, frost, feathers, fur, scales and spines

Whereas I prefer to wear an extra layer or two in the winter, Anony, and keep the room temperature very moderate. As a lifelong asthmatic I find hot rooms make my breathing worse. I especially hate hot bedrooms and whenever we visited my dear MiL in cooler weather, the first thing I did was turn off the radiator in our bedroom. Warm bed, but cool bedroom is my ideal. 🙂

My DD is in your camp too. That said I do hate stufft rooms. Always like to have a window open where I can :)

And let all that expensive heat escape?? 😱 DH would have a heart attack if he saw that. 😉

We had central heating run by a coal boiler with an immersion heater, but also an open fire in the lounge which was a huge room, and a stove in the "snug" which was often used to cook rice pudding.

We were also allowed to roam the village and surrounding fields as kids. There were no shops after the post office was burgled and then shut down, so if we wanted sweets and mum wouldn't take us, we'd walk about half an hour each way to the closest shops. Both sets of shops were off very busy mainly roads but my sister and I would walk there unaccompanied from probably 8 or 9. I remember once my second cousin and I went to the park which was a long walk through a wood and across a field. The other side of the park wasn't a very good area. We were on the swings and some local children were saying stuff to us, I don't remember what, but my cousin and I decided it would be funny to pretend to be foreign and that we didn't understand them, so we just spoke gibberish to each other. The little gang for some reason got really angry at this so we walked away but they started chasing us until we ran up to a man with a dog and asked him if we could walk with him. I have no idea what would have happened if he hadn't been there. We didn't tell our parents when we got home as we were worried we'd get in trouble!

We had a coke-fuelled Rayburn range in the kitchen (similar to, but cheaper than, an Aga). As well as having an oven and hob, it also heated the water for the tank upstairs in one of the bedrooms. So that side of the house was always warm in winter, in sharp contrast to the front of the house, which was always freezing unless the electric heaters were on. In the summer, we used an immersion heater for water and an electric cooker which lived in the scullery with the washing machine, as the Rayburn would have created too much heat. Electricity must have been much cheaper then!

Free The Gerbil Three!😬

Back from a session cutting reeds and pulling excess hornwort out of a pond and helping clear some of the reeds from another. My fleece, coat and hat are bundled in a black bag awaiting the wash because they probably smell quite swampy and probably I do too. That’s despite wearing full length waders - they have some with size 4 boots, the bib came up to my neck so they’re not quite proportioned to fit.😂 And long rubber gloves, several sizes too large. I think the guy who organises the volunteers has heard my hints about providing some more ladylike sizes, which they do have for other sorts of gloves. It was rather a humid day for manual work clad in rubber. But I’m having tea and toast and trying to get my second wind to do some gardening before bathing.

You sound like The Creature from the Excess Hornwort Lagoon, Errol!
Its a pity anonymity prevents photos😁
Well done you for doing all that work, in humid conditions too.

50. Worry

In which the gerbils don’t come home…

@Hedgehogforshort asked @AngleofRepose why a spreadsheet might have a problem.

Angle explained, “When the spreadsheet is next saved, the list of Recent files will show Boily D:. If it wasn’t saved back to its original location, it will present an error.”

“And why is that a problem?” asked Hedgehog.

“Because it means Fenella or Halcyon can see that the spreadsheet was copied to a portable datastick by one of the gerbils.”

“Can Griffin or Gimbal fix it?”

“Not if it’s already happened,” said Angle. “And I don’t think it has, or we’d have heard something yesterday, one way or another. But we can’t tell them until they come home, either.” She closed the laptop, which did not actually help. “The only thing to do is hope it isn’t saved today and tell them how to fix it before anyone touches it.”

“WHAT HAPPENS IF FENELLA BURNISH SEES IT?” asked Gantry, several decibels above her usual register.

“I don’t know,” said Angle.

“WHAT WILL SHE ACTUALLY DO IF SHE FINDS OUT?”

“I don’t know that either.”

Girdle had become very still, “But if she sees it and knows what it means, then...”

“We don’t know,” said Hedgehog, in the tone that had, over the years, closed down rooms considerably larger than this one. “We don’t know if it’s been seen. We don’t know what it means if it has. Guessing doesn’t get us anywhere except frightened.” She looked round the table. “Nothing changes right now. They finish tonight, same as always, and they come home, same as always, and then we tell them properly, and they’ll know what to do about it. Until then there’s no point worrying, so I’d rather nobody did.”

Everyone, gerbils and patrons, worried.

Griffin, Gimbal and Graphic did not return at the usual time. Gasket brewed the tea and put the mugs out anyway, out of habit rather than expectation.

Half an hour later she still hadn’t poured the tea.

“They’re late,” said Girdle.

“They’re often a little late,” said Hedgehog. This was true but Hedgehog believed it rather less than she had done before.

At 6pm Hedgehog called the workshop. It rang eleven times and then went on ringing well past the point where Hedgehog should have ended the call.

“No answer,” said Hedgehog.

“IS THAT BAD?” asked Gantry.

“It might mean they’ve just left and will be here any moment,” said Hedgehog.

By half past six everyone had stopped pretending it was an ordinary evening. Gadget stood behind the bar holding a cloth she wasn’t using. Gantry asked, at increasing volume and decreasing intervals, what everyone thought had happened, and was told each time, by whoever was nearest, that nobody knew. Girdle counted the minutes from her chair, twelve past, sixteen past, and gave up somewhere around twenty because the numbers had stopped meaning anything.

It wasn’t any single thing that made seven o’clock feel different from six. It was the absence of anything at all, no gerbils coming in talking about glass or spreadsheets or the day they’d had. No tea being poured by Gasket. No nothing.

Hedgehog stood up. “I’m going to the workshop to look for them,” she said.

“I’ll come,” said @EdithStourton Edith, already at the door with the leads in her hand. “I’ll bring Brains and Batshit.”

The workshop was dark. No light in any window, no van in the yard, nothing at the door when Hedgehog knocked on it, twice, and then a third time. It looked abandoned. They started to walk round the building, Hedgehog trying every window she could reach, each one dark and undisturbed.

Brains had put her nose down the moment she was off the lead and followed a scent without hesitation, along the side of the building and round to the back wall, where she sat, entirely calm, facing the brick, and did not move again.

“She’s just smelling where they’ve been,” said Edith, coming up behind her. “The gerbils have been in and out of this workshop for weeks.”

Batshit was not calm. She had gone at a stretch of wall a little further along, scratching hard at the brick with both front paws, low and fixed, considerably more purposeful than her usual scattergun interest in pigeons and table legs, and did not stop when Edith called her the first time, or the second.

“Are you sure?” asked Hedgehog. “Batshit seems particularly interested in this area.”

“It’s probably a fox,” said Edith, catching Batshit’s collar. “Or the drains. She gets like this over nothing.” Batshit came away reluctantly, looking back at the wall the whole way, and Edith had no reason in the world to think there was anything behind it worth looking at.

They continued round the building down the other side to the front trying the windows and ending up at the entrance again. Batshit continually looking back over her shoulder the way they had come.

“Nothing,” said Edith. “There’s no-one here.”

“If they’re not here,” said Hedgehog, “then where are they?”

They stood in the lane a moment, the dogs quiet, Batshit still glancing back at the corner of the building.

Behind the brick wall at the back of the building, where Brains had sat still and where Batshit had scratched incessantly, Graphic, Griffin and Gimbal lay curled together fast asleep inside the crate amidst the wool and straw packaging.

https://myrtlelion.substack.com/p/50-worry

Brains & Batshit need to sneak back & rescue them!

50. Worry

In which the gerbils don’t come home…

@Hedgehogforshort asked @AngleofRepose why a spreadsheet might have a problem.

Angle explained, “When the spreadsheet is next saved, the list of Recent files will show Boily D:. If it wasn’t saved back to its original location, it will present an error.”

“And why is that a problem?” asked Hedgehog.

“Because it means Fenella or Halcyon can see that the spreadsheet was copied to a portable datastick by one of the gerbils.”

“Can Griffin or Gimbal fix it?”

“Not if it’s already happened,” said Angle. “And I don’t think it has, or we’d have heard something yesterday, one way or another. But we can’t tell them until they come home, either.” She closed the laptop, which did not actually help. “The only thing to do is hope it isn’t saved today and tell them how to fix it before anyone touches it.”

“WHAT HAPPENS IF FENELLA BURNISH SEES IT?” asked Gantry, several decibels above her usual register.

“I don’t know,” said Angle.

“WHAT WILL SHE ACTUALLY DO IF SHE FINDS OUT?”

“I don’t know that either.”

Girdle had become very still, “But if she sees it and knows what it means, then...”

“We don’t know,” said Hedgehog, in the tone that had, over the years, closed down rooms considerably larger than this one. “We don’t know if it’s been seen. We don’t know what it means if it has. Guessing doesn’t get us anywhere except frightened.” She looked round the table. “Nothing changes right now. They finish tonight, same as always, and they come home, same as always, and then we tell them properly, and they’ll know what to do about it. Until then there’s no point worrying, so I’d rather nobody did.”

Everyone, gerbils and patrons, worried.

Griffin, Gimbal and Graphic did not return at the usual time. Gasket brewed the tea and put the mugs out anyway, out of habit rather than expectation.

Half an hour later she still hadn’t poured the tea.

“They’re late,” said Girdle.

“They’re often a little late,” said Hedgehog. This was true but Hedgehog believed it rather less than she had done before.

At 6pm Hedgehog called the workshop. It rang eleven times and then went on ringing well past the point where Hedgehog should have ended the call.

“No answer,” said Hedgehog.

“IS THAT BAD?” asked Gantry.

“It might mean they’ve just left and will be here any moment,” said Hedgehog.

By half past six everyone had stopped pretending it was an ordinary evening. Gadget stood behind the bar holding a cloth she wasn’t using. Gantry asked, at increasing volume and decreasing intervals, what everyone thought had happened, and was told each time, by whoever was nearest, that nobody knew. Girdle counted the minutes from her chair, twelve past, sixteen past, and gave up somewhere around twenty because the numbers had stopped meaning anything.

It wasn’t any single thing that made seven o’clock feel different from six. It was the absence of anything at all, no gerbils coming in talking about glass or spreadsheets or the day they’d had. No tea being poured by Gasket. No nothing.

Hedgehog stood up. “I’m going to the workshop to look for them,” she said.

“I’ll come,” said @EdithStourton Edith, already at the door with the leads in her hand. “I’ll bring Brains and Batshit.”

The workshop was dark. No light in any window, no van in the yard, nothing at the door when Hedgehog knocked on it, twice, and then a third time. It looked abandoned. They started to walk round the building, Hedgehog trying every window she could reach, each one dark and undisturbed.

Brains had put her nose down the moment she was off the lead and followed a scent without hesitation, along the side of the building and round to the back wall, where she sat, entirely calm, facing the brick, and did not move again.

“She’s just smelling where they’ve been,” said Edith, coming up behind her. “The gerbils have been in and out of this workshop for weeks.”

Batshit was not calm. She had gone at a stretch of wall a little further along, scratching hard at the brick with both front paws, low and fixed, considerably more purposeful than her usual scattergun interest in pigeons and table legs, and did not stop when Edith called her the first time, or the second.

“Are you sure?” asked Hedgehog. “Batshit seems particularly interested in this area.”

“It’s probably a fox,” said Edith, catching Batshit’s collar. “Or the drains. She gets like this over nothing.” Batshit came away reluctantly, looking back at the wall the whole way, and Edith had no reason in the world to think there was anything behind it worth looking at.

They continued round the building down the other side to the front trying the windows and ending up at the entrance again. Batshit continually looking back over her shoulder the way they had come.

“Nothing,” said Edith. “There’s no-one here.”

“If they’re not here,” said Hedgehog, “then where are they?”

They stood in the lane a moment, the dogs quiet, Batshit still glancing back at the corner of the building.

Behind the brick wall at the back of the building, where Brains had sat still and where Batshit had scratched incessantly, Graphic, Griffin and Gimbal lay curled together fast asleep inside the crate amidst the wool and straw packaging.

https://myrtlelion.substack.com/p/50-worry

I'm a bit late to the language conversation but it has been fascinating to read all your posts.

We were able to take Russian, Spanish, or Latin in 2nd year senior school. I thought Spanish would be easy enough to pick up in later life, Latin was pointless (I am ashamed of 12yr old me), so I opted for Russian. It was really interesting but I do wish I'd carried it on for GCSE. I also learned Hellenistic Greek for one semester at uni. I can say the first line of the New Testament and that's about it. I remember them teaching us "to loose" and the various tenses but for some reason my brain struggled with that. I think perhaps because we don't tend to use loose as a verb very often (unless you're one of those on MN who can't spell lose).

I also thought some of you may find this diagram interesting. It was posted on MN years ago and I loved it so much that I bought a canvas print of it.

What a clever boy Batshit is!