Over by over...

Fame at last... but a very minimal kind of fame.

I've always been a big fan of the guardian OBO's slightly off-the-wall and not-strictly-cricket coverage. Now I can follow on my iPhone when I'm meant to be asleep, which is what I was doing the other morning when Mrs Doubleu caught me talking about her.

One question though: if this is Bangladesh, how severe is the iPhone OBO induced insomnia going to be against Australia at the end of the year? Oh, and I'm really going to have to up my game if I want a mention during The Ashes.

Premature Egg-jaculation

Dave and Adele were our house guests this weekend. The activities were basically: eating, sleeping (Dave), followed by more eating, then some snacking and drinking. Now Cadbury would have us believe that creme egg season runs from Jan 1st until Easter. We're not adherents to this religion but such was the gluttony on show that we polished off all the chocolate eggs that Dave and Adele had kindly brought with them well before Easter!

Claire, Dave & Adele burnt some of that chocolate off on Friday during a brisk walk on Bamburgh Beach with JD. Me, I was plotting my next meal - a baguette in Alnwick followed by a visit to Barter Books. Buying WW2 propaganda mugs was the limit of my exertions.

Adele put us all to shame by getting her road bike onto my turbotrainer. She checked it wasn't seized up with inactivity and gave it a good thrashing. The turbotrainer has had a harder time before... supporting my weight, but Saturday was its first real work-out. Thank you! Dave tackled my inertia and DIY-ed the cupboard under the stairs. Thank-you!

After that, all that was left to do on Sunday was cook caramelised apples and pears to top the maple syrup smothered brioche french toast. We then stopped off at Colman's for Fish & Chips before Dave and Adele headed south.

I really need to get on that bike and I'm hoping for the all clear from the physio in 2 weeks time. The only worry now is that I'm sure I read somewhere that those minimalist pedals have a maximum rider weight.

We need a scarecrow...

Or more precisely a scare-garden-birds. Mrs Doubleu has decided we need grass where the lawn ought to be. Last years turfing experiment has been written off as a disaster, but I can't help feeling it wasn't the turf's fault.

We did water it, but so did Jeff. He also pooped on it, dug through it and my personal favourite: found the corner of the turf and enjoyed lifting the whole thing as if it was a rug. Added to this were the insults raining down from the magnolia tree (note to self: develop ecofriendly weedkiller made from essence of magnolia leaves and petals).

As reparation we've decided to try reseeding. Mrs Doubleu was very brave and went to the orange place (B&Q) on her own. The lawn is now "immaculate." That is, if the desired look is grass seed mixed with compost and soil. Unfortunately to the garden birds it all just looks like lunch.

We're hoping the 10 seed mix with aniseed will remind them that only the seed on the bidrtable is theirs for the eating. Oh, and thanks once again to the Flapjack-Pipes-Parkins for the birdtable wedding present - its what every young ornithologist dreams of..

Graveyard of Eviscerated Creatures

That'll be the backyard then...

Not only have Jeff and the magnolia tree ganged up on the lawn, but the back garden is starting to resemble something from a childhood nightmare.

The lawn has suffered the combined torment of magnolia leaves and petals on top of JD's pee, poop and an unfortunate digging habit. Add to this the combined gardening skills of Mrs Doubleu & I, and you are left with 3/4s of the lawn in a perilous state (i.e. it's mostly dirt now).

The back garden is the scene of past triumphs for Jeff. Such as the day he discovered he could barge through the hedge into the neighbours garden, and stole not one, but two wooden ducks. I returned the ducks on the first occasion, but Jeff sensing an opportunity, stole them again as soon as I left to visit Mrs Doubleu in Pittsburgh last autumn. Both Harv and Meyrick who housesat over that fortnight are quite laidback chaps, and their horizontal status denied the ducks any hope of repatriation. By the time I got back the pair were still recognisably duck-shaped, but neither had a head or legs!

Today, now that its been dry and I'm more confident of my ankle, I've had a bit of a clearout of Jeff's toys from the garden. It was a sombre affair. Most have been brutally savaged, often missing their eyes - sometimes their faces or even whole heads, with innards chewed out through the wound. Even his new big green frog, of which he is particularly proud, has lost its "rebbit!"

Square Eyes

Well, after 8 months with Mrs Doubleu in Pittsburgh and 8 weeks into recovery after ankle surgery, I am discovering that there is a limit to how much TV is good for a person. All I didn't need was for the physio to tell me last week was that my nothing was overdoing it a bit, and I have to work much harder at doing nothing for the next 3 weeks.

So I've seen all of The Wire, Being Human, Black Books, Green Wing, True Blood, Heroes, Flash Forward, Peep Show and of course Gavin & Stacey. I've worked through 4 series of HIMYM, 2 of the Big Bang Theory and most of Battlestar so far, with the latest series of 24 awaiting us on the hard drive. And of course let's not forget Dexter, with the 4th series finale just about causing Mrs Doubleu and I to tear our hair out the other night!!!

Unfortunately I've also seen more Homes under the Hammer and Cash in the Attic than I would care to admit to. I even mistakenly tuned to Jeremy Kyle last week - just for a moment, but still a step too far.

In an attempt to break things up I've watched women (& unfortunately men too) clad in lycra ski, skate, shoot & slide in Canada (- well done Amy). I've been keeping tabs on the Premiership despite Newcastle's abscence... and haven't England done well so far in Bangladesh. Jeff's joined in too, keeping an eye on the Spanish footie for me, or at least that's what he said he was doing when I found him in the kitchen chewing on the remote with the TV blaring. (Don't worry Maria, I've ordered you a replacement!)

Anyway I hope to be allowed to play outside again quite soon... and by that point I'm sure I won't want to see another TV for quite some time. In the meantime, further suggestions welcome...

I signed up for no heat, not no water.

Mrs Doubleu being back this side of the Atlantic, we decided to head up to Dumfries and Galloway for the weekend. We toyed with the idea of going to Ireland but decided we'd save that until some time when I would be able to walk around. The cottage was without heat, the 70s style blown air system gave up the ghost in autumn, but we figured a scattering of hot water bottles and winter weight sleeping bags and we'd be good as good as camping.

What we weren't expecting was wild camping, but a pipe in the loft had obviously blown in the cold spell and as soon as we turned on the water we had a shower coming through the roof. Water off. A quick trip to the Spar and we were set up with a few gallons of drinking water... and haggis flavoured crisps.

When in D&G, we have certain customs that have taken on almost religious significance and importance.

Firstly, I must have haggis: usually from The Masonic Arms, served in slices as a stack with potato cakes and drambuie sauce; but at a push I'll take it from The Godfather Plaice served in batter with chips heavily laden with "solansors" (salt and sauce - a kinda brown sauce watered down with spirit vinegar).

Nextly: Mrs Doubleu must have ice cream from Cream O Galloway. Usually honeycomb crunch and caramel shortbread. At least once a day, sometimes twice. For the duration of the stay.

Lastly (and this is a new one): we have to walk the legs off Jeff dog. Well, it was all down to Claire this time- walks in Cally Palace Woods, Laurieston Woods, and Sandgreen Beach. Well after all that Jeff was properly pooped and even slept through a young stag appearing in the garden!

Blue Sky Thinking

Well we awoke to clear blue skies today and despite a hard frost, temperatures quickly rose to 7'c. So what do you think we were we thinking?

Let's hit the beach!

Jeff is owed more than a few long walks and now Mrs Doubleu is home for a few weeks, there is no excuse. So after a luxury breakfast of Mike's world famous brioche french toast, we drove north to Alnwick. We noted that the Cheviots were still white with snow but headed to the beach at Bamburgh anyway.

The scene we met, as well as the tide app on Mike's iPhone, confirmed that we'd managed to time it just right for a very high tide! So Mike and his ankle retired to the Rav with his copy of Whitelines and the sound of thunderous breakers to keep him company.

Mrs Doubleu set off for a brisk dune walk towards the castle, hoping for a beach to reappear in time for the return journey. Jeff was off lead and in his element, racing up tussock here and down dune there until...

Jeff charged down a 10ft sand cliff to be met by the foaming sea. He made a sharp about turn to clamber back to safety but as he climbed the sand gave way under his 50 kilos. As he fell back to the beach he was swamped by a breaking wave.

Jeff didn't panic but for just a moment Mrs Doubleu might have, with visions of having to jump in. But by then Jeff dog was back by her side shaking himself dry. "That was nothing," thought Jeff, "Didn't Daddy tell you about the day I fell in the River Wear?"