A Doodle's Lot

 When a doodle's not engaged in her employment

 Or maturing her felonious little plans,

Her capacity for innocent enjoyment

 Depends on the position of the hands.

 When the bloody cupboard door is not a-opening,

 When the doggie biscuits don't arrive on time

 She hates to hear her little tum a-gurgling

 And listens for the kitchen clock to chime.

 When a doodle's finished bullying 'er muver

 She's asked to sit a-waiting just for fun.

Ah, take one consideration wif anuver,

The doodle's lot's a very 'appy one.

W.S. Gilbert - ish

Sunday Brunch

The Old Mill in Toronto

rolling off Bloor Street

by the Humber River

is celebrating its 100th anniversary.

Brunch is available between 10:30 and 2:30 

 in the main dining room with its sunken dance floor.

In the 1940s it was my mother's haunt for dinner dances.

In the 1970s it was the site of my first cancelled wedding.

 and in 2009 it was the location of my mother's wake. 

 With all these 'good' memories we should come more often

to enjoy this charming place

 and put on a few pounds.

Vicious

When the temperature is - 27C with the wind chill, outdoor time is limited.

What's a person to do?

Take Bunny pictures, of course.

Thanks to Rosemary at Content In A Cottage I can now . . .

 change a photograph . . . 

into a watercolour using the Waterlogue app.

This

 becomes . . . 

this.

And this

 becomes . . . 

 this.

Really

 quite

 magical.

However alluring Waterlogue may be,

sometimes there's nothing like the real thing.

Love ya, Bun.

A Good Girl

I woke before the morning, I was happy all the day,

I never had an ugly bark, but wagged and stuck to play.

And now at last the sun has gone down behind the wood.

And I am very happy, for I know that I've been good.

My bed is waiting cool and fresh, with Fluffy smooth and fair,

But I'll be off to sleepy-by in the forbidden chair.

I know that, till tomorrow I shall see the sun arise,

No ugly dream shall fright my mind, no ugly sight my eyes.

But slumber hold me tightly till I waken in the dawn,

And gobble up my breakfast till all of it is gawn.

adapted from A Good Boy by Robert Louis Stevenson

Chicka-Chicka-Boom

Wendy's son is getting married in May 

and there is to be a shower in April 

for the bride-to-be.

 Hmmm . . . what would be a suitable gift?

 Hey! I know! Something knitted!

 Loani Prior's Carmen Miranda! 

Perfect.

Do I have enough dark green wool? Of course not.

So, Carmen is on hold.

To be continued . . .  

Passing Seasons

      And in the passing seasons, when the sun

Was set, and visible for many a mile

The cottage windows blazed through twilight gloom,

I heeded not their summons : happy time

It was indeed for all of us - for me

It was a time of rapture!

almost from The Prelude   

William Wordsworth