The Asset

I suppose an account of what’s going on in The Deadly House of Jelly would be in order.

Well, the weather’s been happening. Lots of rain. Spots of sunshine. Wind, that’s fairly common.

So what else?

Right.

Yes.

Let me see.

Oh yes: hey!

Guess what?

I’m pregnant.

In fact, this is the culmination of a long journey. Over the years, it gradually became clear Andrew and I were unable to have children without medical assistance. We were aware that many couples undergo years of fruitless IVF treatment and were prepared for failure – in fact, expected it – yet completely ill-equipped for some degree of success. Although luckier than many, we have experienced some heartbreaking lows along the way.

But I am delighted to report that, at the 13 week scan last week, ‘The Asset’ (working title) appears to be cookin nicely. He’s also an unbelievably handsome foetus. The radiologist actually said, “WOW. That’s possibly the best-looking foetus I have ever seen”.

Ok I admit it: he didn’t. Evidently an oversight or professional negligence.

When we first saw The Asset, he was stretched out full-length, completely laid back, legs crossed, arms behind the head, all “Man, this place is cool,” and wondering how to score some contraband. So there’s no doubt Andrew’s his dad. We’re not sure who the mother is yet – although since he’s so photogenic, there have to be some of my genes in the mix.

Even though The Asset is only about 8cm long, he has little feet! And hands! And fingers! It’s just so reassuring knowing he’ll be able to pick his own nose.

I’m thinking of getting a t-shirt with the slogan:

Crotchfruit gestating

or:

The Asset (with helpful arrow)

or my favourite, as suggested by MarkJ:

Just fucking fat, all right?

Despite plenty of evidence to the contrary, I’m secretly convinced I’m the only person on the planet who ever got sprogged. By the way, if you ever catch me with my hand on my belly looking smug, you have my full permission – no, in fact, I ORDER you – to give me a sound kick up the cervix.

Anyway, that’s probably quite enough about spawning.

In other news: we’re moving house at the end of September.

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Public Service Announcement

For some time I’ve been struggling with existential questions. What is Deadlyjelly? Why? Is it really deadly? I mean, has anyone ACTUALLY died from reading my blog? – because if so, I’ve certainly never heard of it. And whither jelly? Why doesn’t it come in black and white? Should the definition be expanded to include other substances?

As you can see: so many unanswered questions.

Before I set up Deadlyjelly, I regularly – or at least frequently occasionally – personalised and mass-mailed up to 40 emails to friends and family. The administrative overhead was considerable. The coffee consumption was excessive. The arse spread was cheekily encroaching.

Consequently I conceived Deadlyjelly as a means of streamlining my correspondence.

To that purpose, it has failed. Of the relationships that previously existed when I set up Deadlyjelly, the only one that’s improved has been with my computer. As a communication tool, blogging is passive and largely one-way. People are more inclined to respond to an email that’s clogging up their Inbox like a gently steaming turd. I don’t have the bandwidth – either figuratively or literally – to blog and email (which kind of defeats the purpose anyway); and I’ve never embraced the concept of announcing a new blog post, which feels like advertising.

The result is that I’ve lost touch with many of my old friends – and I miss them*.

But that’s not all. Due to its public nature, I don’t blog about what’s really going on in our lives: the family feuds, the scandals, the disease and accidental murders. My blog sucks up a lot of creative energy that should be directed elsewhere. And Deadlyjelly has had little to no impact on arse spread**.

And so Deadlyjelly is going to change. Only in the regularity of posting, although I suppose that’s fairly fundamental. From now on, I will limit my posts to every Sunday, unless our week has been particularly action-packed, or Jed’s feeling photogenic.
* While being amazed and grateful for the new friends Deadlyjelly has introduced over the years.

** Still haven’t resigned myself to the inevitability of arse spread.

The dog’s blog

I should probably consider renaming Deadlyjelly to Dog’s Blog or even Deadlyjed.

You’d think our dog was the most exciting thing going on in our lives – and I suppose you wouldn’t be far off. Sometimes we sit picking at loose threads on the arm of our sofa and pray for an escaped convict to stumble in the door, or a corpse to turn up at the bottom of the garden. And then Jed turns up with a dead possum and, well, there’s your corpse and the afternoon’s entertainment.

The lesser-spotted fat-headed colossus and his bow wow wave.

 Anyway, this post is a response to Jeep’s complaint about the dearth of photos of aquatic adventures. So the next time I went swimming, I brought my Canon EOS 350D SLR camera.

How is it that just typing the previous sentence brings on an overwhelming sense of ominous foreboding and dread; yet actually DOING IT seemed like a terrific idea?

Hindsight has a lot to answer for.

But I sensed Husband wince as I waded into the sea with the Canon slung around my neck.

I did take the precaution of looping the strap around my neck – just in case. Also, I remembered to remove the lens cap before launching.

At waist-depth I readied the camera and called Jed. Unfortunately, I’d overlooked how to fend off a furiously paddling 40kg curly coat retriever coming hard at me at the rate of approximately 30 knots with only a moisture-sensitive electronic device and a strand of seaweed. 

I decided escape and evasion was the optimal manoeuvre. So I’m wading backwards, giving artistic direction to the dog and snapping away, when I stumbled over a rock.

At considerable danger to myself – or at least considerable discomfort – I managed to hold the camera aloft as I sank into the briny depths. You have to admit I’m courageous.

Also stupid, but let’s not dwell on that.

To get the full effect, you really have to imagine being on an eye-level with this coming at you. I don't know whether I'll ever be stupid enough to try and capture THAT on camera, but on current form there's a fair chance.

 

Jed discovers barking and swimming is not a great idea. We all learned something.

To Hector: many thanks

Here at Casa Deadlyjelly, the last month hasn’t been much fun. In fact, there’s no excessive hype or bole involved in saying that it has sucked on the same sort of scale as being drawn into the jet engine of an Antonov An-225.

The details are too unutterably dreary and depressing to go into, but few of these recent events were unexpected. Unfortunately, they were virtually impossible to prepare for.

Now, clearly, I have an awesome life. There’s the husband I love so very much, who happily returns the sentiment (at least he claims to – occasionally voluntarily); we are lavishly adored by the best dog ever in the history of dogkind; we have the good fortune to live in an amazing part of the world; we have our health and as much margharita as we can sink without throwing the rest of the equation.

But when it visits, misery can consume you whole, making it difficult to appreciate the awesomeness. In the midst of this crisis, I’ve struggled to focus on the substantial portion of my existence that is RIGHT.

Although I do appreciate one positive outcome: the opportunity to quote extensively from ‘Tears of a Clown’. Do feel free to imagine me belting this out at top volume, complete with tears rolling down my greasepaint-smudged cheeks:

Now if there’s a smile on my face
It’s only there trying to fool the public
But when it comes down to fooling you
Now honey that’s quite a different subject
But don’t let my glad expression
Give you the wrong impression
Cos really I’m sad,
Oh, I’m sadder than sad
Like a clown I appear to be glad ooh yeah

Chorus:
Well there’re some sad things known to man
But ain’t too much sadder than
The tears of a clown
When there’s no one around
Oh yeah, baby baby, oh yeah baby baby

To resort to terrible cliché – but hey, I’ve just quoted Smokey Robinson, which you’d think HAS TO BE the nadir of this post – life goes on.

The other day I took Jed for a walk to the beach next to our house. As I descended the track, I looked out over the bay glinting like a jewel in the sunlight. A seagull hovered just above the surface of the water. At first, I thought the disturbance beneath must be a shoal of fish.

When I stopped and shaded my eyes and squinted, I saw it was in fact a dolphin, idly spooling around the bay. Then I noticed a second one about 200m from the shoreline. From where I stood, I could see them quite clearly, their fins sporadically breaking the surface in joyful arcs.

Later I learned they were most likely a pair of Hector’s dolphins which occasionally adorn the bay.

I had no idea how long I’d been there when the dolphins left trailing magic in their wake, but it was only then I realised my face had been hijacked by a huge smile.

It galls me to admit – although EXCEEDINGLY GRUDGINGLY – that life is really rather grand.

Tie me kangaroo down

On Thursday, my father and I launched an expedition on Carauntoohil. We didn’t quite make the top. Can I blame it on my father? No wait – it was the weather. Yes, that’s more loyal. Also, potentially more true.

Thick cloud rested on the top of all the Reeks, although it lifted marginally as the morning wore on. A fairly serious track has been cleared from the farmhouse at the head of the Black Valley and we followed it to Curraghmore Lake. We turned back halfway up the slope to the saddle ridge linking Carrauntoohil with Cnoc na Péiste. You might say we were vanquished by dangerously violent sheep.

Also I fell off a stile.

Dad gets ready

*

Hello? Is that the horoscope hotline? I'd like to check my horoscope for today, specifically as related to heights. Oh, you don't- hey, is this a recording?

*

Big boulder

*

Deadlyjelly negotiates the rockery

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Resting up at Curraghmore Lake

*

Dad leaning against Rock Art

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Looking down into the Bridia Valley

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Rolf Harris

Ya know wha I is bein sayin iff?

I is bein da writin dis at da world wide web of da MarkJ. Dis is cos of da world wide web of Da House Of Jelly Dat Is Deadly bein in da poke, ya know wha I is bein sayin iff?

Yo may have bein noticin a degration of da grammer an da spellin, dis is because of da collabration wid da MarkJ an da Deadlyjelly. Da enproduk of dis juxtasition bein resultin in some funky Broho yo, da name of whim bein da callin of ‘Tab’ an what is bein wearin da jeans down aroun da knees da enproduk of wha is bein to stumbel aroun da place an trippin over da arm of da law wha is bein long an dough like in constancy. Ya know wha I is bein sayin iff?

Used bobcats

For the last couple of months, Deadlyjelly’s stats has averaged around 70 visits per day. I’m not sure why traffic hasn’t increased exponentially since my blog’s inception. Perhaps it’s because I don’t trawl the Internet making comments on other peoples’ websites. Maybe I need to increase the application of swearwords, or include more videos of me taking my clothes off.

Looking on the bright side: had my hits increased exponentially, the Internet would probably have blown up. So from that perspective, it’s a good thing.

A couple of days ago, the post Tractors Weekly: poor substitute attracted the following post:-

Long time lurker but felt moved to comment by this excellent post. Keep up the good work!

Now, I am a total sucker for flattery no matter how deficient of substance, but I was surprised that particular post had moved someone to express themselves. It poked some fun at my mother-in-law, which – although always entertaining although probably more for me than anyone else – is a cheap shot. Really, outside that highlight, the padding was relatively lacklustre. I didn’t feel it was my best effort.

At the same time, there’s no accounting for taste – or, for that matter, freakishness – so I spent considerable time crafting a response that was warm but not gushing, gracious without sounding needy, and grateful whilst editing out hints of desperation.

It was only after I responded that I looked at the poster’s username: ‘used_bobcats’.

Unusual, I thought.

Imaginative?

Maybe.

Then I followed the link and, er, it was a website selling – what d’you know? -used bobcats.

My official reason for deleting both comments is not my ingenuous response, but because Used Bobcats is not getting any referrals from me so there