Bluestocking Women’s Pub - it’s Maytime!

[ErrolTheDragon]

Welcome to any women who want the company of women!

Thats it really….ok so this place is staffed by gerbils with the occasional quokka or capybara but it functions like a friendly pub where you don’t have to know what’s going on all the time.
The drinks don’t intoxicate and the food is delicious yet healthy so please do come in.

The endurance knickers looked as if they were for sport. Not for sitting through a long concert held in a church with hard pews, or driving from Land's End to John O'Groats in one go, or watching all the LOTR films back-to-back.

I got so fed up with Clothes a while ago that I made myself a dress that <gasps> fits. My dressmaking needs more practice, however, as it took me bloody ages and lots of crawling around the floor with pins in my mouth and the end result isn't as neat as I would have liked.

Batshit Latest
There we were, walking along the footpath, fence overgrown with nettles, brambles etc etc on one side, overgrown hedge on the other. On the other side of the overgrown fence, I spotted a squirrel. Brains was behind me, nose in hedge. Batshit was trotting along in front.

The squirrel spotted us and bounded along the other side of the fence, past Batshit (hidden by nettles etc), popped out onto the path perhaps 10 or 12 feet in front of Batshit and carried on bounding away.

Brains had an excuse: I was blocking her sight-line. Batshit didn't. Did not see the squirrel. Was totally unaware of the squirrel until she got to where it had popped through the fence, whereupon she picked up its scent and ran very excitedly along the path, nose down, to the place where it had turned a sharp left into the hedge and vanished.

But to be fair to her, later on the same walk she and Brains were mooching about slightly ahead of me when a leveret got up from the weeds alongside the barley, probably 20+ feet in front. It ran like the clappers down the track, and then, since it was learning to be a hare, stopped on a rise of the track and looked back. It saw that we were still coming in its general direction, and turned and ran again, before jinking sharp right into the crop, where the tramlines are.

The dogs noticed nothing, until they past the spot where it had got up, when they were suddenly terribly excited and wanted to go into the barley to see what was there. No chance, buddies: Farmer Giles does not need you in his thigh-high corn, smashing it down. The wheat can still take it, but the barley has suddenly reached the stage where it can't.

It's so obvious, when things like this happen, that it's scent that does it for dogs, not vision. Had the wind been blowing the other way along the track, they'd have spotted the leveret. Who is now, I hope, tucked up in a nice cosy form somewhere, well away from foxes.

By late Wednesday night, several Bluestocking patrons had begun to notice something unusual about Gosie’s prolonged absence.
Not the absence itself — Gosie disappears all the time — but the type of absence.
No postcards.
No cryptic receipts from continental cafés.
No sightings of the sports car.
No suspiciously improved coffee appearing in the kitchen overnight.
Just… silence.

Meanwhile, somewhere deep in the Midlands canal network, Gosie was having what can only be described as a difficult apprenticeship.
Because @Hedgehogforshort had absolutely no intention of simply handing over information.
Not out of distrust.
Out of principle.
If Gosie wanted to understand canal movement, then Gosie was going to live canal movement.

Which is how, more than twenty-four hours after first stepping aboard the narrowboat, Gosie had:

• made one stew
• one breakfast
• one lunch
• another dinner
• operated multiple locks
• learned three different kinds of rope she had previously considered “rope”

and still not been permitted to use Hedgehog’s windlass.

This last indignity appeared to wound her most deeply.
Hedgehog claimed Gosie “lacked lock awareness.”
Gosie did not agree.

But the boat kept moving, which suggested Hedgehog considered the educational process successful.
And all the while, Hedgehog talked about everything except the thing Gosie actually wanted to know.

• Canal maintenance.
• Towpath politics.
• The economics of diesel.
• Why certain boaters are idiots.
• Why mushrooms should never be trusted if found near Birmingham.

It was maddening.

But Gosie slowly realised something important:
Hedgehog wasn’t withholding information.
She was teaching Gosie how to see the network properly.
Because canals don’t reveal patterns to observers.
Only to participants.
And sometime around eleven on Wednesday night, after a long wet lock flight and an extremely critical discussion about mooring etiquette, Gosie finally noticed it.
Not a secret meeting.
Not coded cargo.
A pattern of boats that never seemed to travel empty in one direction.
Always balanced.
Always plausibly loaded.
Always ordinary.
That was the breakthrough.
Not smuggling hidden within canal life.
Smuggling disguised as canal life.
Hedgehog saw Gosie realise it.
Said nothing.

Then, after a long silence, Hedgehog handed Gosie the windlass.

Which, in canal terms, may have been the highest form of trust available to another living being.

You know, if you don’t get that job @MyrtleLion (though they’d be idiots and not worth working for if they didn’t give it to you), you could always go in for creative writing.

Darling Hector (the dog) (not to be confused with Hector the cat) was very good at picking up the scent of a hare, and pretty infallible at rushing back along the direction it came from, even when a turn of his head would have made it clearly visible.

Like some Bluestockingers he was terrified of bees and wasps in the house, but one of his greatest panics (the sort where you suddenly end up with your arms full of trembling hairy wimp) was when a butterfly got into the bedroom.

A thread that I eventually retreated from yesterday has had me wondering - what happened to the Indigo children?

people, eh?

Why is MN pushing GIFs?

HAGADAPA

Thank you. But I merely prompt. The writer is ChatGPT.

And here is the image that didn't get added.

Much needed and long awaited work being done on house.
Noise. Disruption. Downstairs toilet has had to become...... gender neutral😬
I think I need a picture of Harriet in her Christmas red and white hat that she is free to wear ANY time of the year to help cope with all this😁

If I was any good at this AI business, I'd retitle this
CECI N'EST PAS UN CHAPEAU DE NOEL😄

I used to be 5'8" (now about 5'6") and low-waisted to boot, so I could never find dresses to fit me comfortably. The best I ever had was a gorgeous long-sleeved two-piece, which was both comfortable and smart and I wore it to shreds. Nowadays, because my legs are so unsightly, I only ever wear trousers.

I am also almost always in trousers - not because my legs are problematic but because trousers are just more comfortable. Summer trousers are just lighter weight and sometimes cropped (and on rare occasions at home, shorts).

You are right, @EdithStourton - I was exaggerating. But it does sound as if, no matter what size we are, clothing only comes in one size - the wrong one. It is infuriating. At least I can do basic alterations myself - shortening things at the hem or the waist, adding sleeves etc - so I do get a bit more choice.

I never wear trousers - I look appalling in them - which is a good thing because I find shortening trousers is harder.

Well, here on the flatlands we have finally had some proper rain. I was cursing the weather earlier in the week, as it was often cloudy, with a persistent cold, drying wind and only 'a coupla thray spits' when decent rain had been forecast - so the worst of all weather-worlds. But we have had downpours yesterday and again today, the wind has largely dropped (gusts up now and again) and everywhere smells fresher. I don't mind that the sheets are being dried indoors, as it's a small price to pay for damp earth.

Monday was really windy, and I walked B&B down the hill. There are often swallows over the hayfield before the copse where the path turns downhill, but there were none to be seen. I realised why when I got to the barley field at the bottom. It was much less windy down there, and a whole flock of swallows was airborne above the crop.

Swallows are very hard to count. With some species of birds, you can draw the sky into mental squares, and quickly count how many you can see in one, and then multiply that over the others. No chance with swallows, because they move so incredibly quickly, with the elegance and grace of fish in water, lifting and dropping, dodging and darting, turning on a wing-tip. But I think that there were between 35 and 40 of them, perhaps a few more.

I almost gave myself a crick in my neck watching them against the cloud patched sky, and above the bright green barley which rippled like silk as the wind ran over it. I wondered if they have a particular call to draw their fellows in to an especially good cloud of insects, or if one will fly out a bit to broadcast the news, or if on windy days instinct drives them towards stiller air.

Wednesday was buzzard day. Walking back up the hill with the dogs I saw one flap slightly clumsily into land in tree near a house. It mewed, not the usual the single syllable on a falling scale, but more a multi-syllable call. Another buzzard appeared down from the heights, and then lifted again, and not one but two buzzards got up from the trees. The three of them flew slowly off, over the copse and away, not in a straight line but lifting and dropping on the wind, sometimes gyring upwards before gliding down. I got to the copse after they had gone, and all the smaller birds were a-twitter and somewhat discomfited.

I'm wondering what the wild world will show me today. I never get bored of it.

One of our previous dogs, Mia, was terrified of thunder and fireworks, and used to take shelter from them on the back of the couch, basically on my head. She was a big, pointer/lab cross so wearing her as a hat was, erm, interesting. 😂😂😂

Woley,
no matter what size we are, clothing only comes in one size - the wrong one.
Yes!
I live in trousers about 80% of the time, if not more. A friend of mine makes a point of wearing a dress on Sundays, to give some pattern to the week.

@EdithStourton , I take a quick photo so I can count them while they're still.

Another day of hail showers here. We were supposed to be heading to Dad's around lunchtime but Mr Pasta got pulled into another two meetings so we're only just setting off. In time to hit rush hour across 3 cities, I expect!

I’m in Thurso - looks like Puffling and Otter have been here before me to pose for portraits.

Large hot chocolate bowser please, bar gerbil.

I was on a panel today and secured a spontaneous round of applause for my thoughts on AI. I spoke to so many lovely people and had such interesting conversations. It was also a lot.

I haven't mixed with that many people in a year.

But I was reminded that I have been valued and validated before in my professional career and I haven't lost that. I just misplaced it for a bit.

Coming on the heels of a terrific interview yesterday, I feel a bit like my old self.

That's wonderful, Myrtle. Keep on keeping on!

You appear to be multitalented Myrtle 🙂

For @MyrtleLion.

Well done @MyrtleLion! I imagine your thoughts on AI didn’t include its gerbil-related flights of fancy😂

Well done Myrtle.

Still a newcomer but can I just say that The Bluestocking is exactly what I hoped I had found. Women being kind and supportive to women.
I am in a weekly walking group of kind women and kind dogs that does the same.
Bar gerbils might I please have a strawberry daiquiri?

I just found this thread and it’s so, so lovely. I’d like to have somewhere I can discuss things I’m often facing as a woman in an industry that is male-dominated. Very fortunate to have a DH with the emotional intelligence to understand the importance of feminism (whichever wave you follow), which for me at its core is just realizing that women prioritizing and helping other women is the only way we’ll ever be able to demand full social and political equality. Also, I’m hoping if I stick around, I get to meet our quokka mascot. 🥰 I fucking love quokkas. Quokkas never have to deal with sex-based inequality, the lucky, adorable little fuckers.

This is the path I’m on right now. Thanks so much for sharing and giving me hope I’ll be able to manage even when it’s a lot; same area, and dealing with seeking investment right now, so my tendency towards anxiety is just through the roof. Asking insanely rich people to risk their money shouldn’t be this hard! 😂 (Or maybe it should?! Dunno.)