We’re all exhausted!

Way-aye, Roscoe here, as usual.

Sorry about the late start today. We had an exhausting day yesterday.

It was Mam’s birthday. so of course we had to celebrate it with her. This wasn’t easy because several other people came over during the day, and they mostly sat in the garden, keeping two people-distances apart, chatting and having tea and sandwiches. Then when the kids arrived, we had to go out and see them too.

It wasn’t too bad. Seren decided not to have jelly and icecream that Mam had made, but she wanted to pet me. Well, she’s a bit heavy handed at the moment. At one stage Mam showed her how by stroking her hair, then she was much better.

She also fed us grass, but kept taking it away again. I think she thought I’d bite her finger. I wouldn’t do that, only if I didn’t know where her finger was. And when she moves it, that might happen. Mam noticed and suggested she hold it out flat on her hand and let me eat it, ‘like with horses’ Mam said. Well, if that’s what horses do, it works for us, too.

Anyway, after everyone had gone, Mam let us stay out on the grass for a bit longer, while she had a nap. It was quite a long nap, but we forgave her, and we were fine in our run, tents and tunnels. The grass was nice, too.

Roscoe on the grass

Then Mam spent quite a long time on the computer talking to Auntie Sophie, who sent her some pictures of lovely looking chaps. Bit too much competition for me, I think, but the Sheltie and his mate the ginger one with the white hat looked nice. Mind you, the pink-eyed whites looked nice as well. Auntie Sophie said they were very clever. More competition.

But Mam eventually decided that it really was too much for her to drive up and back in one day, and to do it by train means going through London, and that’s an avirus place, so she’s not going there. And even more important, she really wants to get to know the guinea pig people near here, so she has her ‘support group’ whatever that is. So she’s going to email them again to see how things stand.

It would be nice to get that other run filled with some new friends. Then again, we can’t go on holiday to a cottage somewhere once there’s more than four of us. Although… Mam did used to say ‘more than two cages worth,’ and we’ve been in three for ages. Maybe she’ll change her mind.

So that’s this week’s news, and an explanation of why I’m late posting. Oh, I didn’t really explain that, did I? Yes, couldn’t get on the machine last night, because Mam was talking to Auntie Sophie, and this morning… well, we’re all still exhausted.

See you next week

love

Roscoe xxx

All by myself again!

Way-aye, Roscoe here.

Today I’m in Bertie’s old run. I’ve been here since Thursday morning, when the man came to do the walls again. On Tuesday Mam put me into Biggles’ run, and put Biggles in with Neville, when she brought us in from the garden. She told me off for fighting with Neville.

I wasn’t fighting with him, I was just telling him to get out of the tent because I wanted it. He was fighting me because he didn’t want to move. He always does this. Every time I’m wanting to sit somewhere in particular, he’s there, hogging it. I’m fed up with it. So I don’t know why Mam blames me. Anyway, she put me in the run on my own, and actually, I quite like it.

I do sometimes miss cuddling up to Nev. I lay beside his run the other day, thinking he might come and chat, but he went to the other end. I don’t know why he doesn’t want to chat. Same reason he didn’t want to move, I suppose.

He’ll come around to my way of thinking in the end, and then he’ll want to sit beside me all the time. Then Mam will see we want to be together, and we’ll probably change runs again.

Mam’s thinking of changing the runs because she likes the new wall and doesn’t want to hide it any more. I like the new wall too. It’s a lovely blue colour.

Instead of the way Biggles’ old run was, she says she could make a three-panel run in line with the four panel one, stretching right along the room, and then either have the two shelves as an L shape, or put one of them somewhere else. She says it will be less crowded when the desk is finally put back together.

She’s thinking about changing the door as well.

That’s our Mam. Always thinking.

I think I’ll chat to you next week. We’ll be out of mourning for Bertie then. This is the seventh week since he died. It’s a long time. But it doesn’t seem long at all, too. Time is funny, but other people have said that on here, too.

See you next time

love

Roscoe xxx

We’re being decorated, partially

Way-aye, Roscoe here again.

I know I was going to tell you about Mam and her icecream, but I have more interesting news this week.

Our room is being decorated!

One of Mam’s other rooms is also being decorated. The man who came to fix Mam’s ceiling when we were in the front room has come back again, this time to make the middle room all beautiful. And while he was here he did the same to our back wall.

Mam spent all evening Monday and all day Tuesday moving boxes from the middle room and the shelves in our room. Some went into the summerhouse at the back, but most went into the living room. Wednesday morning we could hardly get in it for our cuddle! Mind you, also on Wednesday, Mam overslept, and was in the shower when the man came! She let him in, then went back to get dry, and dressed. That day we had our cuddles very late, but we still got them.

Thursday and Friday the man came again, but Mam had to go out with her car on Friday, so she was even earlier and didnt get time to cuddle us properly. We only had two pieces of cucumber and then we were on the floor for our run. And ten minutes later we were back in our houses, which she’d cleaned already.

Only Biggles went into the other run, Bertie’s one, which has been empty of course. Mam and the man moved the shelves out of our room into the one he’d been working on, and then he started working on our wall, turning it from white to dark brown. Then it dried a bit, and it’s light brown now. Mam came and looked at it when she got back with the car and said it was fine. I hope it’s not staying that colour, Mam?

Our back wall, all smoothed and dark

No, it’s not. It’s just drying out, then the man will be back this coming week to give it some undercoats, and she’ll finish painting it next weekend. She says she hopes we’ll like the colour, but it’ll mostly be hidden by the things on the shelves anyway.

And when she finishes painting the other room, the house will be finished!

Except for the repairs to the roof hips. And putting her desk back together. And the new oven to replace the one that doesn’t work.

But all the decorating will be done and Mam can unpack all the rest of the boxes, and anything that she doesn’t have room for wlll be stored in the summer house. Or get thrown out!

That’ll be good. I’ve noticed that Mam gets anxious when she’s surrounded by boxes. She’s been anxious all week. It’s not good for her.

And when the room’s all finished, she’ll be able to ask the lady at the rescue to do her checks so we can have some new friends here. Apparently, there’s one pair of ginger Abys (Elvis and Stevie); a pair with a long-hair and a short-hair ginger (Chas and Dave); and one with a long-hair ginger and a tricolour (Ginger and Guinea). And if the gingers aren’t right for us there’s a pair of black and white boys (Dennis and Franklin) who nobody seems to want. Mam’s had a lot of black and white boys. I get the impression she’d prefer ginger. You can see pictures of all of these except the ginger Abys on the lower part of this page link.

See you next week, maybe with an answer!

love

Roscoe xxx

Neville and Roscoe post-bath

Outrageous behaviour!

Way-aye, Roscoe here.

I was going to tell you how much cheek I thought Mam had, saying she loved the way I ate my cucumber. I was going to tell you about how she eats something called an icecream.

But that has been overtaken by events yesterday afternoon. We were cruelly and outrageously ripped from our afternoon slumbers and treated to torture!

Well, it started ages ago, because Mam said we needed baths. She was going to do it ever so many times, but then she thought we should have grass time. Then she was going to do it Saturday, but she said it was a bit cold.

Then today (after she ate the icecream), she said she’d have to wait because we were all having our mid-afternoon snack.

Then she came in and picked Biggles up, and took him off into the kitchen. Admittedly we didn’t hear any complaints, although we did hear a highpitched whirring noise just before he came back. He looked very clean, and smelled… funnier than usual.

Then she approach Nev and me, and Nev was wisely having a tea-time snack, so she picked me up! First there was the grease gland clean, which is bad enough. I mean, she’s very gentle, but very thorough. And it is a sensitive area, believe me. BUT THEN….

She put me in the sink of water!

I wasn’t having that, I can tell you. Well, we had several discussions about it, and I made my point of view quite clear. Eventually she managed to coat me with soapy stuff, and rub it in all over, and I did a lot of complaining, as you can imagine. Most of the time she had to hold me up with one hand and rub in places I don’t usually expect to be rubbed with the other. Then I had to go under the tap for a rinse off. And then she did it again! And made me wait for hours before she rinsed it off!

Then she mopped a lot of the water off me and wrapped me in a towel and took me through for a rub down and relax in the lounge. She may have relaxed. She thought my hair looked very funny when it all fluffed up in the damp. ‘Bouffant’ she described it, whatever that means.

Then I went back to the kitchen to sit on the other side and be blown warm air at, all up the wrong way on my coat, with the thing that made the nasty high-pitched noise.

At last I could go back to my run and it was Nev’s turn. He had the cheek to ask me what the problem was when he returned. Although he did agree that having the soap on for several minutes (he said three, but I’m sure it was hours) was a bit cooling.

So anyway, I hope you’ll agree that it’s outrageous treatment.

I’ll tell you about her icecream next time, unless something more important happens.

Love

Roscoe xxx

PS We’re already more than halfway through our mourning period. Bertie has already been gone for over four weeks. Can you believe that? It seems like yesterday… or the day before.

The new routine

Way-aye, Roscoe here again.

Nowt much has happened this week. Except May finished.

We’ve had morning cuddles and cucumber, a run, and breakfast. Then we’ve had a snooze or three.

I have to say, the amount of breakfast varies. Sometimes we get just three bits of veggies from the fridge (it’s colder, and not as fresh) and sometimes we get lots of little bits, mostly tasters, from the garden. They’re fresh and warm. That’s because the sun’s been shining on them, Mam hasn’t heated them up or anything.

Things from the garden I’ve identified: vetch, dandelion, plantain, grass (sometimes Mam picks a few very long stalks to include in our breakfast), kale leaves (different from the fridge ones), carrot leaves, strawberry leaves, hawthorn leaves, and hazel leaves. I think Mam was trying those out on us, and since we liked them, she brought twigs of hawthorn the next day, soft new growth, which I rather liked. There are also usually a couple of herby leaves, like mint, rosemary, lavender, parsley or thyme. And sometimes basil from the kitchen, because that grows indoors.

It’s been hot and sunny, and we’ve been out in the garden every afternoon once it’s nearly shadowy. I reckon Mam cut down on breakfast because we spend the afternoon eating grass, but it doesn’t quite work like that, Mam, because we’d be eating hay if we weren’t outside. We get hay when we come back in, at any rate.

Mam says to make the most of it because it’s going to get cooler and rainy next Wednesday onwards. She’s a bit pleased because she’s run out of rainwater to water the pots with. She has to use the mains instead. You’ll probably understand what that means.

Mam’s been spending lots of time in the garden growing things and cutting things and making things. It’s good for her, I think. Apparently we can come out of this avirus lockdown a little, but Mam isn’t because the scientists say it’s too early. She seems a bit worried by something she learnt the other day, but she hasn’t explained it to me, save that she has to have someone nearby who can come in to look after her when she’s ill.

Well, Auntie Vikki always did that, so I’m sure she’ll find someone else now that Auntie Vikki (and Auntie Claire) don’t live near us any more.

And there’s no sign of some new boys coming yet. We just have to be patient. As long as there’s enough cucumber and hay, Mam, we’ll be fine.

Have a nice week

love

Roscoe xxx

It’s good for the Grass!

Way-aye, Roscoe here.

I thought I’d tell you about our grass today. We have several types, but mostly you can divide it into that which Mam picks (or cuts) and brings into us, and that we graze on when we’re out in our run.

We’ve been going out in our run a lot, and it’s been quite hot in the last week or so.

Of course, Mam has been watering the grass with a little pointy spray thing ever since she realised her new grass needed it, back at the end of March. The trouble is, this spray doesn’t reach everywhere, and some of the grass, including the bit where the first veggie patch is going, has sort of lines between it.

The woodpigeons under the pointy spray

Mam said to me it was where the bits that had been laid edge to edge shrank, so now there’s a gap between the edges. I don’t see it myself, but I’m sure she’s right. She has got a plan for it – she will spread soil with grass seed in it where it needs the lines filled in when autumn comes. But that’s a long way away. Mam has plans for everything, as you’ve probably noticed.

Then she got a new water spray thing which she tried out on Friday. It waters everywhere at once, forwards and back again. And the shed roof and the neighbour’s wall… But it works for the whole of our grass and the top of the flowers beyond, which is good.

Saturday it rained nearly all day. Well, showers. Heavy ones.

Anyway, the grass. We eat the new grass. and it’s very nice. That’s ‘very nice’ because it’s not good to seem ungrateful… The bits she cuts for us with her scissors, or just picks and brings in, are much better. They are richer and lusher (and longer). They have flowers on them, the proper grass flowers, still in their long sheath, and those are really yummy.

The old grass at the bottom of the slope in early spring. It has daisies in it now

That grass grows down in the older part of the garden, where it’s damper and shadier. She hoped we’d be able to go and eat it ourselves occasionally, but there are lots of buttercups and daisies as well. I wouldn’t eat those, Mam. I’m not silly. Okay, you can’t guarantee that the others wouldn’t.

But we only get that when we don’t go out. It’s a sort of conundrum. Go out and have quite yummy grass, or stay in and have extra-yummy grass.

Mam’s been reading up on poisonous plants because she was worried Bertie ate horsetail and it poisoned him. There’s lots of horsetail at the bottom of the garden and it turns up pretty well everywhere else, which she pulls out. But she found some growing in one of the places we’d been grazing, so she wondered whether that was why Bertie died. Then she discovered that he would have to have eaten it for several days for it to have started to have an effect. So that can’t have been it.

It’s good, this grass

You know, that’s one of the reasons our Mam is the greatest. She really really tries to do the very best for us, or at least the best she can in the circumstances. When we get out of lockdown, Mam’s hoping to get some other pigs who need a home. I reckon they’ll be very very lucky pigs to join us here.

See you next week, when it’ll be June!

Roscoe xxxx