The Countryman’s Daughter

What’s wrong with Priya the poorly Poodle?

Priya the poodle’s health was deteriorating but we didn’t know why. She wasn’t her normal bouncy self.

RenderedImage — Priya, seen here with Joey, was diagnosed with Addison’s Disease which can be fatal. Now she’s on medication and is full of beans once again

We’ve had another dog-related drama this week, and as it is something I’ve not personally had to deal with before, despite ten years of looking after other people’s pooches, I am assuming there are some of you who also may not know about it. Therefore it is an important story to share.

We were looking after a couple of poodles, Joey, a miniature and Priya, a standard, who are regular guests of ours. A week after they had returned home the owner contacted us to ask if anything had happened while the dogs were with us, as Priya was a bit below par. There was nothing we could put our fingers on. She had eaten well, played happily and was enthusiastic to go on dog walks.

Her owner explained that she had become a bit lethargic and had lost her appetite. He had been to the vet with her, but they just said to keep an eye on her. The dogs were due to come back to us because the family were going on a long-awaited holiday abroad. We agreed that they should still come, even though by the time they dropped the dogs off, Priya still wasn’t herself.

Over the weekend, my son Jasper and I became increasingly concerned. Priya refused all food despite tempting her with treats like cheese and roast chicken that dogs usually gobble up. She spent most of the time sleeping, and whenever she did get up, her normally waggy tail was limp and lifeless.

Thankfully, one of my other customers is a vet and is our go-to if we are worried about any of our charges (if you run a professional dog care business, it is a requirement of your license to be registered with a vet, even if you don’t own a dog yourself). When I messaged her with the symptoms, she quickly replied that we should take her to the emergency surgery right away.

The owner’s own vet was based a good hour away, so we needed his permission for them to share Priya’s health details with the practice we wanted to use which was much closer. It meant we had to interrupt his holiday to let him know what was happening and to ensure we got the necessary consent.

Permission gained, Jasper whisked Priya to our vet who took blood from her to conduct tests in the hope of getting to the root of the problem. She was also hooked up to a drip and had to spend the night in the animal hospital.

The vet who did the initial examination had a suspicion of what it might be. “Addison’s disease, or something like that,” Jasper explained to me when he got back. I thought he must have the name wrong, because that was a human disease, wasn’t it?

When I looked it up, it was indeed a rare autoimmune disease of the adrenal glands that afflicts around 9,000 people a year. However, it is also found in dogs, and when I read the symptoms, it was spot on – lethargy, lack of appetite, and ‘just not themselves’. Other symptoms include vomiting and diarrhoea, increased thirst and limb weakness. Symptoms can come and go, too, but they get progressively worse, so it is important to not delay in getting a dog checked out. Although pretty rare in humans Addison’s Disease is quite common in dogs.

The results of the blood tests came the next day and confirmed Priya had the disease. It is caused by the adrenal glands ceasing production of two essential steroid hormones, cortisol and aldosterone, both of which are essential for life. It can affect any dog but is most common in certain pedigree breeds between the ages of four and six, such as the Standard Poodle, West Highland White Terrier, Great Dane and St Bernard’s. Left untreated the condition is fatal.

From now on, Priya needs to take a steroid pill every day for the rest of her life to replace the cortisol and also needs an injection once a month to replace the aldosterone. She quickly recovered and is back to her old self.

If you have pet insurance that you started before any symptoms appear, then you should be covered. If not, then I’m afraid a diagnosis of Addison’s Disease will be a rather costly affair!

I’d love to hear from you about your opinions, memories and ideas for columns. Use the ‘Contact’ button on the top right of this page to get in touch. This column appeared in the Darlington & Stockton Times on Friday 12th and the Ryedale Gazette and Herald on Wednesday 10th July 2024.

Running round in rings

Have you ever lost a precious ring? And did you find it again?

I’ve had some interesting comments about wedding rings. Janet Pearce, who used to be a theatre nurse, informed me of something I did not know: “A wedding ring is the only piece of jewellery that you can keep on when you have a general anaesthetic…Also the surgeon and operating team can keep theirs on.”

That surprised me because I would have expected in our super hygiene and infection-conscious world that all jewellery would have to be removed. But Janet pointed out that a patient doesn’t need to be sterile and the wedding band is taped over to stop the heat from any cauterisation burning them. “When the surgeon and scrub nurses scrub up they do a very rigorous hand clean, moving the ring about, and they wear gloves, so no risk of infection.” She added: “I have never removed mine since my late husband placed it there and never will.”

After Henry VIII’s Reformation it was decreed in England that wedding rings must be worn on the third finger of the left hand. If you were found to be wearing one on the right, as had been the custom before (and still was in many European countries), then you were at risk of being declared a Catholic and executed.

Lucien Smith said: “Fascinating about the rings. I was well aware that certain countries favour wearing a ring on the right…but not that it was a religious identifier…We had our rings made in Brighton, but as my husband-to-be took a strong disliking to the lady in the shop (he still won’t tell me why!) I don’t attach any real romance to them. Which is just as well, as we have each lost our rings for either 10 mins in a nightclub bathroom (me!), or a number of weeks in a drawer (him!).”

The tradition of wearing wedding bands dates back to Egyptian times and it used to be thought that there was a specific vein known as the ‘vena amoris’ that passed from the third finger of the right hand straight to the heart, and therefore should be the one that bore the ring. But it turns out there is no such vein.

Clare Powell, who suggested the idea for the column, said: “Thank you for the research. I had heard about the link to the heart but always wondered why the Dutch wore theirs on the right hand (years ago I worked with a girl from Amsterdam who did this). Might have known Henry VIII and the Reformation had something to do with it!”

And Caroline Newnham says: “I’ve heard this about the heart connection though as Clare says, most Europeans wear wedding rings on the right so it makes no sense.”

I’d like to know if you have a special story about your wedding ring, or any precious ring. Do your ever take it off? Have you ever lost it? And if so, how did you break the news to your other half?

I hope my mum won’t mind me sharing the following story with you. My dad bought her a beautiful ring set with diamonds and sapphires for Christmas in 2016. We had a wonderful day with the whole family, and as we were clearing up after lunch, my mum came rushing into the kitchen with a very worried look on her face. The ring was no longer on her finger.

While Dad and my sons sat chatting, myself, Mum, sisters, and nieces all surreptitiously tore the house apart looking for the ring. We pulled ripped wrapping paper from bin bags, ferreted down the sides of sofas and chairs, checked beneath carpets, tables and cupboards, looked in bathrooms, bedrooms, and all over the kitchen, all the while trying not to look like we were looking for anything. All seemed lost, until seconds before someone was about to empty it, we realised no-one had checked inside the kitchen bin.

It was stuffed full of the remains of our Christmas dinner and I can’t remember who had the delightful job of searching, but there, nestled amongst the yucky debris, was Mum’s precious ring. I don’t think I have ever seen a look of such relief on anyone’s face as that of my mum when we found it.

And my dad, who had spent a small fortune on it, was never any the wiser.

I’d love to hear from you about your opinions, memories and ideas for columns. Use the ‘Contact’ button on the top right of this page to get in touch. This column appeared in the Darlington & Stockton Times on Friday 5th and the Ryedale Gazette and Herald on Wednesday 3rd June 2024.

A night to remember

The interesting bricks on a property i visited near Chop Gate caught me eye

The bricks had zigzag marks on them which reader Linda Harman says were created by the tools used to make them

I have had a pleasing update following my appeal for help to find out more about King Henry’s Night. I had been contacted about a year ago by Linda Chambers from the Rosedale History Archive asking if could find anything out about it after an elderly gentleman had told her about the custom that centred around young people going out on a particular night and meeting up with likely suitors. Try as I might, I could find no reference to it in my usual trusty sources, such as my dad’s study, his books and the National Newspaper Archive.

However, Linda herself read my piece and got back in touch saying: “I happened to be at Ryedale Folk Museum last week to look at their exhibition ‘Believe It Or Not’ which highlights the folk traditions and witchcraft which were once very much part of moors life. I happened to see a panel which described The Kissing Ring, a charming old tradition where young people gathered outside late on a summer’s evening. It is believed this was last performed in Rudland in the 1930s when 40 young men and women held hands and danced in a ring singing the words which I have attached. The circle gradually diminished as couples broke away with a chosen partner and the young man would walk the girl home. I think we have the answer to King Henry’s Night!”

And having read the words to the ditty, I think Linda must be correct. They are as follows:

‘King Henry was King James’s son

And all the royal races ran

Upon his heart he wears a star

Right away to the ocean far

So choose to the East

And choose to the West

And choose the one that you love the best

If he’s not there to take her part

Choose another with all your heart.’

So it is likely those who took part in The Kissing Ring would have referred to the occasion as ‘King Henry’s Night’ thanks to the words of the song they would sing.

Linda adds: “While I was there, I bought the booklet, published by the Esk Valley News, which adds detail to what is seen in the exhibition – an excellent read, and I recommend the exhibition to anyone interested in our local folklore. It is so easy to lose sight of local traditions and stories, many of which must now be forgotten.”

It’s true that if we did not have places like the Ryedale Folk Museum, or indeed columns like this discussing old traditions and folklore, then such things will be lost. We should all support local museums and local newspapers in a world that seems to be being taken over by technology. Nothing can compete with real people telling us about real memories, because once they are gone it will be too late.

On the subject of preserving local history and traditions, I had the pleasure recently of travelling to a house up near Chop Gate for work. It was a beautiful old farmhouse that commanded glorious views south across the valley towards Bilsdale.

It was built in the early 1800s out of large stones in varying shades of sand and gold. But what caught my eye were the distinctive markings. They looked like they had been carved with a repeating arrow pattern, a little bit like the skeleton of a feather or a fish. Every stone carried this pattern, and it was as if they had been painstakingly hand-sculpted to create a beautiful effect, and one I believe is peculiar to this part of the world.

I know the pattern was not created by some frustrated sculptor working as a bricklayer, but that it is more to do with the way the bricks were made, thanks to friend Linda Harman who explained: “They cut the clay brick shape then take excess clay off with a brush which makes that pattern.” And Irene Sykes, who lives on the North York Moors, adds: “I think local quarries were excavating different types of stone and so they dressed the stone they excavated using different methods.”

Do you know any more about how these stones were made, and the local quarries they came from? Perhaps you had a relative who was a stone mason. Do get in touch as I’d love to know more!

I’d love to hear from you about your opinions, memories and ideas for columns. Use the ‘Contact’ button on the top right of this page to get in touch. This column appeared in the Darlington & Stockton Times on Friday 28th and the Ryedale Gazette and Herald on Wednesday 26th June 2024.

Very hungry caterpillars

The box tree caterpillar can decimate a tree within days

They are very hard to control. These were found in the green waste bin some time after the tree had been chopped up and put in there

I popped in to see my friend Jane the other day and we sat on her terrace overlooking her beautiful garden. She spends hours making sure it is gorgeous, full of healthy-looking shrubs and flowering plants, but she said she had suffered somewhat of a tragedy over recent days. A shrub that she had planted more than 10 years ago seemed to die overnight.

She couldn’t recall its name but said: “It was beautiful with variegated green and yellow leaves, and one day it was fine, and the next it was completely dead!”

Jane had noticed in the days running up to its mysterious demise that it was covered in what looked like cobwebs, and then when it had died and she looked closer, she realised it was infested with caterpillars.

With the help of her husband, they dug up the sad tree, chopped it up and disposed of it in her green waste bin, at the same time as picking off and exterminating as many caterpillars as they could find. They both love animals and nature and weren’t happy at permanently getting rid of the creatures but reasoned that if they can destroy a whole shrub overnight, they cannot be a good thing to have in your garden. Sentimentality went out of the window.

I asked what the caterpillars looked like, and wondered which butterfly or moth they would eventually turn into. Jane showed me her bin with the remains of the brown and withered shrub and there were dozens of the critters still crawling around it. The caterpillars were a couple of inches long with green and black stripes and a black head, and clearly, they hadn’t managed to capture all of them.

Well, this is the kind of murder mystery that the Countryman’s Daughter thrives upon, and as soon as I got back home, I donned my detective hat and set to work. It took me a good minute of eager Googling to crack the case wide open.

Jane’s plant had been slaughtered by the Box Tree Strangler – I mean Caterpillar.

The Box Tree Caterpillar, which is active during spring and summer, is an invasive species that the RHS says is becoming one of the most common problems in British gardens. It predicts that 2024 will be a bumper year, with five times as many cases reported in the first four months of this year than last. This very hungry caterpillar stowed away on plants imported from east Asia in 2007, although the first moth found in a private garden was not reported until 2011. It quickly became a significant problem in the south east, and steadily began to make its way north, unfortunately landing in Jane’s garden this week.

The box tree is a common sight across the land, often being clipped into geometric shapes or animals by those fond of topiary. If you’ve been to places like Castle Howard, Broughton Hall or Beningbrough Hall, then you’ll have seen some fine examples. But if you have some in your own garden, you need to start regularly inspecting it for this particular critter. If you shake your box tree and moths fly out, then that’s a sure indicator they are laying eggs, so you need to get on the case pronto. The moth (Cydalima perspectalis) has white wings with brown borders, or sometimes is brown all over, and lays its eggs on the underside of box leaves. The eggs are flat and yellow and overlay each other, a bit like tiny fish scales. Initially, the problem can look like box blight, a fungal disease, but a tell-tale sign is the web-like substance that can appear all over the tree. The caterpillars weave this over their feeding area, and once you see that, they can decimate a whole tree within days.

Thankfully, they are only interested in the box tree, so a sure way of keeping them away is to not keep any in your garden. Even when a tree or hedge looks dead, though, it can be rescued with effort and persistence and there is lots of advice online. If you discover it, then you should report it (again online is the place to go to find out how).

One last question – if box tree caterpillars destroyed all the box in the land, would they die out or simply change their diet?

I’d love to hear from you about your opinions, memories and ideas for columns. Use the ‘Contact’ button on the top right of this page to get in touch. This column appeared in the Darlington & Stockton Times on Friday 7th and the Ryedale Gazette and Herald on Wednesday 5th June 2024.

Finding a silver lining

I now have a Silveroid teapot stand thanks to a clear out at my mum’s house

The stamp on the bottom reads ‘National Products England’ and ‘National Silveroid’

A couple of challenges for you this week which will hopefully prove that real people can still be more useful for factual information than the seemingly omniscient internet.

Just over a year ago I was invited to give a talk at Rosedale Reading Room and while there Linda Chambers from the Rosedale History Archive asked me if I could find out anything about King Henry’s Night. “I was told about this some years back by an elderly gentleman (now dead) who lived at Thorgill, just along the dale side,” she wrote. “It apparently centred around young people going out on a particular night and meeting up with likely suitors. Not sure what their parents thought but no doubt it was eagerly anticipated!”

I had a look in my dad’s collection of cuttings and files but could not find anything labelled King Henry’s Night. I also looked in a few of his books, Folk Tales from the North York Moors, Folk Stories from the Yorkshire Dales and Yorkshire Days, but again nothing. He did write about occasions where young men and women would go out and perform certain charms and spells in the hope of attracting suitors, but I don’t recall him ever mentioning King Henry’s Night.

I then resorted to that most useful source of miscellaneous information, the British Newspaper Archive, but again, came up empty handed. So, I’m turning to you, dear readers, in the hope that one of you can explain exactly what it is. Perhaps you went out yourself on King Henry’s Night and found your one and only?

The second mystery might be more straightforward to solve. We were having a clear out at my mum’s house when I came across what looked like an old pewter teapot stand that had been abandoned on a windowsill for years. I asked Mum if I could have it. As regular readers know, I drink tea using a proper pot, and a recurring conundrum is how to avoid it scalding whatever surface I place it upon. Now I need worry no more!

Mum couldn’t remember how she came by it, but it was either used at home when she was young or picked up at a jumble sale. There is a stamp on the reverse labelled ‘National Products England’ and ‘National Silveroid’. It brought to mind the war effort and the ‘National Loaf’, but it turns out Silveroid appeared much earlier than that.

The stand looks a bit like pewter, which is an alloy consisting mostly of tin mixed with small amounts of other metals such as copper, lead or antimony. It has been used for making household items since Roman times and in the 17th and 18th centuries it would have been found in every household in the form of plates, cutlery, cups, jugs, buttons and the like.

Pewter was rather soft and prone to dents, and in the late 19th century, Silveroid started to appear. It was far more durable and yet mimicked the stylish look of pewter along with the shine of silver. It was patented in the USA where it was often used for watch cases. I did find a few references to it in the newspaper archive, the earliest of which appeared in the Daily Gazette in September 1878 and read: ‘Silveroid is the name of a new metal which has just been introduced in America in the manufacture of tableware. It has a fine texture, is susceptible of a high finish, and can be supplied at much less cost than anything heretofore used as a substitute for real silver.’

I also found the exact same paragraph in a number of other newspapers in subsequent years, so I did wonder how long it had to be around for it to be no longer considered ‘new’.

Six years later in 1884, there were adverts extolling the benefits of the product, but they now tell us that Silveroid is ‘the cheapest substitute for silver yet introduced, which being of a uniform white colour throughout, renders Nickel or Silver Plating quite unnecessary. This Metal is specially adapted for Steamship Fittings, Railway Carriage Furniture, and Art Metal Work. Specimens and price on application.’

So what do you know about Silveroid, what happened to it, and what are ‘National Products England’? Do get in touch via the usual channels!

I’d love to hear from you about your opinions, memories and ideas for columns. Use the ‘Contact’ button on the top right of this page to get in touch. This column appeared in the Darlington & Stockton Times on Friday 7th and the Ryedale Gazette and Herald on Wednesday 5th June 2024.

Band on the hand

Wedding bands date back to Egyptian times

Reaction to my column featuring Australian reader Sarah Tyson’s suggestion of composting dog waste was almost universally one of revulsion. There were expressions of fear about salmonella and e-coli being present in the compost, concerns about lingering unpleasant

odours and a general aversion to handling something that has come from a dog’s back end.

Despite these worries, Sarah assures us there is no smell once it decomposes (don’t forget is is mixed with 50% vegetable scraps), and that it quickly breaks down into an environmentally friendly natural compost. But it is recommended that the site is positioned well away from your regular compost heap. Another reader (also called Sarah) advises that it would be fine to put over flowers and other garden plants but that it shouldn’t be used on edibles destined for the table. She adds: “I can’t say it appeals to me, but apparently if it’s broken down properly it doesn’t smell. I won’t be experimenting though.”

There are plenty of people out there who do it, and lots of help can be found online. It is not recommended that you use waste from dogs who are ill, take medication, or that are fed on a raw meat diet. Although the compost should not be used on edible plants, it is very good as a mulch and also can improve the quality of nutrient-deficient soil. I would recommend reading up on it before giving it a go.

Let’s move on from dog waste to a more pleasant topic suggested by regular reader Clare Powell, that of wedding rings.

“Why do we wear them?” she asks, “Where does the tradition come from? Some feminists refuse to wear them because it’s seen as a chain. When did men start wearing them? Some men won’t wear them, they think it threatens their masculinity, or are they keeping their options open? I have girlfriends who don’t always have theirs on or swap them around. I happen to have four rings on that finger, but that’s because I love bling!”

The tradition of wedding rings can be traced back 5,000 years to the ancient Egyptians, where both men and women wore twisted rings of braided reeds or hemp on their fingers to symbolise the romantic commitment to one another. The 2nd century Greek historian Appian of Alexandria is supposed to have described a vein that ran down the finger directly to the heart called the ‘vena amoris’ or ‘vein of love’. Wearing a ring on that finger meant that a couple’s love for one another was bound by the never-ending circle.

Having done some research, it’s unclear whether Appian actually did mention that vein, but there is no doubt that Henry Swinburne, a 17th century York-born ecclesiastical lawyer, did.

In his work ‘A Treatise of Spousals, or Matrimonial Contracts’ published in 1686 he wrote: “The finger on which the wedding ring is to be worn is the fourth finger of the left hand, next unto the little finger, because by the received opinion of the learned in ripping up and anatomising men’s bodies, there is a vein of blood, called vena amoris, which passeth from that finger to the heart.”

Unfortunately, despite how fitting and romantic it all sounds (apart from the ‘ripping up and anatomising’ bit), Swinburne was talking utter claptrap. There is no such vein, and all the veins in our hands are pretty much the same, with no unique heart-bound one.

What is interesting though, is that he says the ring should be worn on the left hand. Swinburne was a staunch Anglican, and in 1593 began to work for the Dean of York Minster. This was a mere 50 years or so after the Reformation where Anglicism became the state religion and Catholics were persecuted. The Church of England established its ‘Book of Common Prayer’ in which it stated that a wedding ring had to be worn on the left hand. Up until then, in most other religions throughout Europe including Catholicism, wedding bands were worn on the right hand. In England, if you were caught with your ring on the right, you would be identified as a Catholic, accused of treason and possibly executed.

I was married to a Dutchman for 20 years and had always wondered why in the Netherlands they wore wedding rings on the right and not left hand.

And now I know!

I’d love to hear from you about your opinions, memories and ideas for columns. Use the ‘Contact’ button on the top right of this page to get in touch. This column appeared in the Darlington & Stockton Times on Friday 7th and the Ryedale Gazette and Herald on Wednesday 5th June 2024.

Nobody wants a hot dog

A couple of spiders had a stand-off on my decking during a recent warm spell

I write this column some time before it is published, and today as I put finger to keyboard, it is gloriously sunny. I am outside basking in the rare heat, determined to make the most of it while I can, even if I can barely see what I am writing on my screen. As we Brits know only too well, this beautiful weather is likely to be short lived so I’m happy to squint as I work.

It is blissful and I think the wildlife in my garden are celebrating too. The birds seem extra chirpy and excitable, the bees and flies extra busy and buzzy, and the ants and beetles extra industrious as they hurry about their daily business.

My attention is caught by a couple of spiders on the decking having a standoff. They look to be eyeing each other up, keeping very very still, until one moves a bit, then so does the other, without getting too close. It is quite a captivating little dance and I wonder if it is some kind of mating ritual, or whether one is preparing to attack the other. Unfortunately, I don’t get the chance to find out, as something startles them, and they scuttle off to safety below the decking.

The swift change in temperature over the past couple of days has come as a shock to the system. It seemed to increase almost overnight by a whopping 15 degrees and took many of us by surprise when it comes to knowing what to wear. Moseying about town, some people were in coats and sweaters, while others wore shorts and flip flops.

It has also affected our four-legged friends, who are certainly unprepared. I have noticed them panting more and drinking far more water and we have cut short our dog walks, using routes that offer plenty of shade. It takes dogs a lot longer than us to adjust to changing weather conditions, and even when it seems pretty cool, they can still overheat.

My son Jasper was walking along a local shaded path when he came across a distressed woman with a large Dalmatian. Although she didn’t know Jasper, they had crossed paths regularly on their walks and so she asked him for help. The dog was panting very heavily and kept lying down and refusing to move. Thankfully, they were not far from our house and they managed to coax the dog into walking and once it got here, it promptly flopped down on the lawn while Jasper dashed in for a bowl of water. The owner was clearly upset, and said she only lived 15 minutes away, but was fearful that her dog would not survive that short distance without a drink.

She was right to be concerned, because heat exhaustion can affect a dog very quickly, and can be fatal. A dog pants to cool itself down but finds it hard to regulate its body temperature in warm conditions. If you notice excessive panting, then it’s best to take it into the shade and give it some water as soon as possible. Other signs of heat exhaustion include difficulty breathing, excessive drooling, lethargy and lack of coordination.

If you think your dog has been affected, the immediate priority is to bring its temperature down. Cool tap water sprinkled across its body is best, making sure to avoid the head (a gasping dog can inhale water into its lungs). Avoid excessively cold water though, as this can cause the animal to go into shock. Don’t be tempted to cover it with wet towels either as this can trap heat in and make the situation worse. Keep sprinkling the water over the dog until the panting eases. Try offering it small drinks of water too. If you are at all concerned, take it straight to the vet.

What I didn’t know was that, according to the RSPCA, heat-related illnesses affect 10 times more dogs than leaving them in hot cars, and the charity is running a campaign to raise awareness of the issue.

I’m delighted to report that the Dalmatian made a full recovery and the grateful owner, who happened to own a café, has offered myself and Jasper a free meal to say thank you.

Now that’s what I call a happy ending.

I’d love to hear from you about your opinions, memories and ideas for columns. Use the ‘Contact’ button on the top right of this page to get in touch. This column appeared in the Darlington & Stockton Times on Friday 31st and the Ryedale Gazette and Herald on Wednesday 29th May 2024.

Doggy do do Down Under

Sarah Tyson from Australia composts her dog poo in biodegradable bags

Who knew that the debate about dog poo disposal would resonate across the globe? Sarah Tyson got in touch all the way from Hahndorf in South Australia with this interesting idea: “I discovered, entirely by accident, that dog poo composts very well if placed in an open-bottomed bin with an equal volume of vegetable matter. I have two large dogs who generate the poo, and two large teenagers who generate a lot of food and paper scraps. I place both kinds of waste in my 220L compost bin and they disappear very quickly. And no smell! (caveat: I have affixed a mesh base to the open bottom of the bin to deter rodents).”

This message sparked so many questions in my head that I wanted to ask Sarah directly, so I got back in touch with her. I particularly wanted to know how well the rat-deterring mesh worked. Sarah replied that although she has been rat-free for the past five years, it was a case of trial and error before she got it right.

“We did have an issue with rodents after the first six months,” she says. “I tackled this by moving to another spot (it took them a while to learn where the bin went, and I needed the first layers to start decomposing, and not be eaten!).” Sarah tried nailing a circle of wire mesh across the base but it dawned on her that if the mesh was soft enough for her to cut through with her snippers, it was unlikely to be any match to a determined rat’s incisors. But then she had an idea. She cut a circle of mesh matching the circumference of the bin, then laid it on top of a few sheets of chicken wire, which she overlapped in different directions to make the holes smaller. “I chose the chicken wire because it was just there and available, along with some crummy scrunched up wire lying around on my friend’s farm.” It worked, and since then the eco-friendly compost bin has not attracted any rodents. I hope the up-cyclers among you are impressed with Sarah’s ingenuity!

I wondered if, like here, there are thoughtless dog owners in Australia who also toss poo bags into trees. It’s interesting to discover how other countries deal with the same problems as ours, so I hope you’ll forgive me for devoting quite a bit of space to Sarah’s reply.

“The issue with poo bags depends on where you walk,” she says. “In most dog parks some people leave their bags where paths meet but almost always pick them up on the return journey. I have found that people pick mine up too which is fantastic, especially if I am having a bad day. In return I always pick up other people’s bags when I am having a good day!”

As for the open countryside (which Australians call ‘bushland’) she says: “I have never seen bags or unbagged poo left behind in natural bushland.” Applause for the Aussies then!

But stop applauding now, because it is a different story in public parks. “I often see poo on bike and walk tracks in the more formal parks and bikeways and it almost always has been stepped in or ridden through so it’s EVERYWHERE and so, so gross!” She adds, however, that in towns and on suburban footpaths no-one leaves dog mess or bags behind. Resume your applause!

She continues: “There are always poo bag dispensers everywhere and plenty of rubbish bins to put them in. The bins at dog parks are very very full and although they are emptied regularly, they stink and I feel sorry for anyone living within smelling range.” That sounds very familiar to us, doesn’t it! But Sarah has a suggestion: “Perhaps the council should adopt my idea of compost and poo. It would be pretty simple for them to drive past and dump some plant clippings in once a week. Our poo bags recently changed from regular plastic to biodegradable plastic. I think this may sow the thought of composting with other dog owners.”

Are any of you tempted to have a go at composting your own dog poo? Or should we suggest it to our local council? It could just be the answer to a very messy and long-standing problem.

I’d love to hear from you about your opinions, memories and ideas for columns. Use the ‘Contact’ button on the top right of this page to get in touch. This column appeared in the Darlington & Stockton Times on Friday 24th and the Ryedale Gazette and Herald on Wednesday 22nd May 2024.

Led by the nose

Screenshot — A postcard from 1907 featuring Mr Nosey Parker. We are not sure of the origin of the term ‘Nosey Parker’. (File:Adventures_nosey_parker_rugby.jpg”>Postcard, Public domain, via Wikimedia Commons)

Following my column about net curtains, Stephen from North Yorkshire says the reason their popularity declined was down to the fact they are “hideous, especially those that are sort of tapered, don’t fill the window in the middle and have a pattern”.

Don’t mince your words Stephen! Clare from East Yorkshire says: “Like us, a lot of people have transferred from the fussy net curtain to the Venetian blind or plantation shutter. After a burglary many years ago, the police told us that our flimsy (but fashionable in the 80’s!) bamboo blinds were completely see-through and an invitation to burglars to view our stuff and then come and nick it! Since then, we have always had blinds that we close once the lights go on. I like antique lace panels but would never have old fashioned nets now.”

North Yorkshire cyclist and blogger Rob Ainsley isn’t a fan of the trend towards large curtainless windows: “I cringe when I see those showpiece self-build houses on TV whose living rooms have vast uncurtained glass frontages. Once their lights go on in the evening, for passers-by it must be like watching an Alan Ayckbourn play.”

Lynn says in Canada where she lives they use the phrase ‘the nets were twitching’ to refer to someone who is being too inquisitive. I have to confess to being a curtain-twitcher myself on occasion but I wouldn’t call myself a nosey parker, because I only do it when there’s something out of the ordinary happening, rather than to spy on my neighbours.

Talking of nosey parkers, where did that phrase come from? The word ‘nosey’ makes sense, because you can be said to be sticking your nose in where it does not belong. But where does the ‘parker’ bit come in?

I’ve done a fair amount of digging, and the same few explanations are often repeated. A favourite is that it was down to the first Archbishop of Canterbury appointed by Elizabeth 1st after she came to the throne. Matthew Parker, who was Archbishop from 1559 until his death in 1575, had a reputation, so the story goes, for poking around in other people’s business which earned him the nickname Nosey Parker. As fun a tale as that is, most sources accept it is highly unlikely, firstly because the word ‘nosey’ (or ‘nosy’) did not have the same connotation in the 16th century as it does today but simply referred to someone with a large nose. The second reason is because Mr Parker did not have that reputation, as is backed up by my own research, and the third and most compelling reason is that there are no contemporaneous written references suggesting that nickname for him.

I found a number of ‘first written references according to the Oxford English Dictionary’, all with different dates, which is very confusing. The earliest is from an edition of Belgravia Magazine founded by a very successful Victorian novelist, Mary Elizabeth Braddon. The magazine serialised fiction and in the May 1890 edition is the quote: “You’re asking too many questions for me, there’s too much of Mr Nosey Parker about you.” Clearly, this suggests the term was already well-known by the late Victorians.

The other ‘OED firsts’ are all later, including a reference to a series of amusing picture postcards from 1907 onwards entitled ‘The Adventures of Mr Nosey Parker’, a busy-body who keeps getting himself into scrapes.

I found yet another story in a February 1926 edition of the Westerham Herald concerning a 19th century army sergeant called Edward Parker. Apparently he had an unfortunate tumour that grew from the end of his nose and hung down beneath his chin. His soldiers would call him ‘Nosey Parker’, a nickname that persisted until his death in 1888.

What is generally accepted is that the term was not in common usage until the latter part of the 19th century, and initially it was used in the context of a proper name, ‘Mr Nosey Parker’, and then later as a noun, ‘A nosey parker’.

I don’t think I am going to get to the origin of this phrase, but what I do know for certain is that we all have a little bit of Mr Nosey Parker inside us.

I’d love to hear from you about your opinions, memories and ideas for columns. Use the ‘Contact’ button on the top right of this page to get in touch. This column appeared in the Darlington & Stockton Times on Friday 17th and the Ryedale Gazette and Herald on Wednesday 15th May 2024.

Big Little Lies

I’d like to thank reader Beryl for getting in touch in response to my column about assisted dying. Judging by her long and impassioned letter, I am guessing that Beryl is a fundamental Christian, and one who is genuinely concerned for the destiny of my soul.

According to Beryl, “We were never meant to die! Eternity was to have been right here, right now. But because of Satan’s trickery and our following after him instead of following after God…We’ve shut Him out of our schools and everywhere else (even some churches don’t preach the truth as recorded in the Bible). We also allow the murder of millions of unborn babies.” Beryl believes that even if a human is suffering terribly at the end of their life, God is still by their side and (if they follow God) the good Lord will soon welcome them into Heaven.

By the same token then, if they are a Satan-following non-believer, they will have no need to pack their Big Coat for their final journey, because where they are going it is going to get very, very warm.

It baffles me that a fair number of seemingly intelligent and rational people still believe that God created the earth in a remarkably productive seven days. This is despite the fact that since the old and new testaments were written (between about 600BC and 80AD) our knowledge of science, nature and how the world works has come on a fair bit.

People like Beryl are very hard to debate with because their belief in an all-powerful Christian god is unshakable and any argument you offer against it, no matter how much is based on indisputable scientific fact, is batted away with the explanation that it is God’s work or God’s will. Any bad stuff happening in the world is because, as Beryl, says, “…Satan is, as yet, still ‘prowling the earth to seek whom he may kill and destroy’.” So Beryl’s god bears no responsibility, and all non-believers bring about all this horrible stuff because our faithlessness allows Satan to run riot. Paedophiles and murderers, cancer and fatal accidents, floods and pestilence, war and famine – all would evaporate if only we all truly believed in God. Simple!

It is what is known as blind faith – the belief in something without question. It brings to mind scary people like Donald Trump, who has been proven to lie over and again, but is one of those people who will repeat and repeat the lie with such zeal and conviction that his followers believe it, and then they repeat it, and so it goes on. Having done a bit of research into the psychology of lying (which means I am now an expert) I have discovered there are six categories of liar (thank you to the Newport Institute for the info).

Some might call Trump a pathological liar, that is someone who doesn’t even realise they are lying, and will not admit to it, even if presented with evidence to prove it. They repeat the lie so often that it becomes the truth in their own head. Pathological liars have often suffered some form of trauma in the past or have a mental health disorder and the lies are their coping mechanism.

Then there is the prolific liar, someone who lies for the heck of it and does not feel a jot of guilt about it. Don’t confuse them with the compulsive liar, who is a bit like an addict, in as much as they get an adrenaline rush each time they lie. The habitual liar does so to save their own skin because it is easier and more convenient than telling the truth, and will get them off the hook, at least for now. Then we have the occasional liar, who lies at times to make themselves look or feel good, or to get a result they want (I think we may all have been guilty of that at least once in our lives!). The best liar to be is of course the white liar, who tells a mild porkie in order to protect another one’s feelings. What a good liar the white liar is.

Good enough to get into Heaven?

I’d love to hear from you about your opinions, memories and ideas for columns. Use the ‘Contact’ button on the top right of this page to get in touch. This column appeared in the Darlington & Stockton Times on Friday 10th and the Ryedale Gazette and Herald on Wednesday 8th May 2024.