One of the local poppies.
One of the local poppies.
Although I cannot ride a horse, I sometimes think that it was much less complicated in the days of horses, with no cars. You put the horse in the pasture, it eats and is happy.
The car? You have to feed it with gas, petrol, benzine. Of course just lead it to the pumps and it will drink. Today I had the experience of “filling her up”. I usually choose Sunday afternoon at the supermarket pumps as I know it is only the novices, like myself, that like to avoid the public eye. I arrive at an empty tanking station and choose my favourite pump and positioned the car to make sure the pump was opposite to the cap for the gas.
Then the fun began. I have a plastic card special for this type of pump and it told me that the pump did not recognise it. After the third try, recognition was there. It seems I was too quick for the pumping station. I had to choose the pump number and then enter the code. In the meanwhile a guy asked if he could help me. I told him the pump did not recognise my card and he nodded in agreement and said that he has absolutely no understanding of these plastic cards and always uses real money. I though a friend of my own heart. It was then that the pump decided to accept my card. Perhaps it realised that it was becoming the a target of ridicule. And then the bezine began to enter the tank of my car. I was so happy, again success. I was finished and wanted to remove the hose from the car when my colleague (the guy was still there) told me I should press the hose once more and it would add a little benzine to the already almost full tank. I know that is a man thing, Mr. Swiss always did it like that. I obliged, not wanting to look foolish, and it really accepted more gas. My quest was complete. my car was again ready to go with a full tank for the next couple of months.
I said goodbye to the guy who was now on his way to tank up his own car. I think he only stayed there to watch my tanking performance. I must say it is always better to have someone around in case anything would happen. Since I bought my new car last December, I have now tanked three times and I am getting better every time, but I still go on Sunday afternoon when I am alone.
As said, you only have to lead a horse to the grass and it does it all by itself.
This is what you get in the stores today if you are looking for a hobby horse. They have “improved” on the design with all sorts of additions like real hooves and bridles and a nice false leather saddle. Gone are the old wooden horses, although not completely. You can still buy them at an exorbitant price as you would only find them in the special stores with handmade items and the real wood and handmade results are definitely more expensive than the plastic artificial machine made horses.
I was never into such toys as a kid and I must admit that my taste went more in the direction of metal objects such as guns and railway sets. In my childhood in the fifties plastic was not so wide spread. I do not even remember any of the kids in my street that actually had a hobby horse. We had dolls of course, although that was also not really my sort of thing. I found it strange treating a dead object as it if was alive and taking it to bed with me never entered my head. I do remember having a golliwog, but today I must almost excuse myself for mentioning this racial object, although mum and dad were never into child psychology and bought what they could afford. However I had a blue teddy bear. All these childhood memories of toys are long ago and none seemed to survive to the present day.
The only hobby horses I remember at home were the horses my dad would place a bet on, after studying the newspaper lists. My childhood holidays always seemed to be spent in a resort where they had a race course. I was lucky really, I saw the real hobby horses racing on the track against each other as a child, and got the complete atmosphere of the betting stands of the “bookies” and even collected the colourful tickets they issued when someone placed a bet. The disappointed customers would discard them after the race had been run and we kids would take them home afterwards as our trophies. Not that my dad was a betting addict, he just liked to have a little flutter now and again on a horse he fancied and I must add that he really understood the ways of the bet and often picked a winner.
Today I am lucky to live in the neighbourhood of some stables, so who needs a hobby horse when we have the real thing living just across the road.
Home is being surrounded by comfort, safety and the daily routine. I think this sums it up for me: my walking stick, the walker in the distance and my computer. This is outside on the porch, but inside it would be similar. I would be in the kitchen is the only difference.
And at the moment I have my daily birds – here some green finches.
Looks like the day is beginning with something good up there. The sun is now shining and I hope it stays for the day, although it is quite cold at 0°C. I now have to wear my padded winter coat when I take the first steps outside to fill the bird feeder and otherwise distribute the goodies around the garden. The first arrivals, three magpies and two crows, have already made the most of the feast and the sparrows are always present. Even the cat next door has stopped in for a drink of water from my cat’s bowl outside on his way.
Yesterday I decided to venture into town in the afternoon. It has been more than a week that I had to time to have a look around. One of the first sights was our old arsenal, now a museum of old weapons and armour, showing that the windows have been prepared for the christmas Advent calendar. As the days pass in December one window will be uncovered showing a Christmas scene. I often wonder if they constructed the building with this in mind, having just the right amount of windows.
The new supermarket has now opened its doors along the main road which will be very handy for me as it is on the road just before reaching town. My general shopping is usually enough to fill a car boot. It sometimes happens that I might forget a couple of items and then I have to make the trip to the next village again to pick them up. Now I have a supermarket much nearer, even wheelchair distance away, and so I can now pop in on my way to town. At the moment the entrance is nicely decorated to celebrate the opening. This is the national Swiss supermarket chain and he guy that founded it, about 100 years ago, was an opponent of cigarettes and alcohol and to this day it is not included in the selection. However there are other stores, and one will be opened in the adjoining part of the building, to complete the selection. The complete area used to be my car sales center, which has now moved to an industrial area in a neighbouring village.
I found the idea of hanging balloons in the air in the supermarket colours quite original to celebrate the opening.
I journeyed into town, but found nothing really interesting. The Christmas lights are already hanging. Everyone seems to be getting into the mood for Christmas. Over the past couple of years I did my best to avoid it all, finding it an unnecessary stress at the end of the year. I am not a believer, although I have decided there are certain aspects that can be quite pleasant. Perhaps a couple of candles at home and a few Christmas ornaments. I have a few stowed away in the cellar and will have a look what I find.
Today I have a short trip planned to the tanking station at the supermarket. My car is now getting low on gas, although no warning lights up to now, and I prefer to go on Sunday. The neighbouring store is closed, and I have a pick of the gas pumps. I am not such a profi with such operations and prefer to do it with no spectators or people waiting behind me.
And now to move on with my other various Sunday morning tasks: a little bit of cleaning and tidying never harmed anyone. Have a good Sunday everyone, may it be a good one. I leave you with my kitchen table and its ornaments.
Je gratte, donc je suis
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