Pandora, Pimms and Parrots (and peas)

We were up early this morning. 5 a.m early to be precise. Well, this was the time I woke to find Andy missing. I had a slight panic because when he came home from work yesterday he mentioned the words 'running' and 'away' in the same sentence. I thought 'Omigid, he's run away!'

He hadn't. He was downstairs watching an old episode of Doctor Who (Colin Baker), which also had Joan Simms in it as some kind of Boudiccea character, with masses of frizzy ginger hair. I wasn't sure what was happening really as the sound was turned down and the series of accompanying captions were going far to fast for my sleep-addled brain to cope with.

'I thought you'd run away,' I said.
'If I was going to run away, I'd take you with me,' said Andy, reassuringly.
'And the cats?'
'Only if Pandora promises not to poop in the car like she did on the way home yesterday,' said Andy.

It is the law that if you take a cat anywhere in a car they will at some point poop in their cat carrier. I think it's a 'punish the stupid humans' type thing what with cats being a superior race and all. Pandora had covered up her poop with the towel that lined the cat carrier. She said, 'I'm very young, I've had a blood test, inoculations, flea treatment and worm treatment today. I'm allowed to poop - it was the excitement and adventure of it all.' Pandora has a clean bill of health and can now intergrate with Phoebe and Tybalt.

Anyway, as we were up and about, we decided to go and gather elderflowers for the making of elderflower cordial/wine/champagne/jelly.
'They are best gathered with the morning dew still on them,' said Andy.
'Hmmmm,' I said as we set out at 5.55 armed with carrier bags and umbrellas.
Back home the process of cordial making began immediately. The kitchen currently smells er, interesting. I think things may improve with the addition of copious amounts of sugar.

The problem of me making breakfast whilst holding Pandora (I have attachment issues) was solved by her being quite happy to sit on my shoulder like a parrot, thus freeing up both hands for cooking although Phoebe, as you can see from the photo, wasn't keen on this arrangement. There's a look of 'The Omen' about her, I think, but I am reassured that Pandora can run faster than both Phoebe and a falling church steeple.

Part of our Saturday morning routine is to read the papers over breakfast. Andy has the Guardian, (woolly minded liberal) and I have the Mail (right wing despot). Then we swap over and poo-pooh each other's paper's political comments and I usually make some barbed remark about so-called 'Dr' Ben Goldacre who infuriated me once by announcing on breakfast TV that the health benefits of fruit and veg weren't actually proven - or something like that, but that was the gist, what an idiot.

As I was reading the Answers and Correspondents in the Mail, there was an item about a James Pimm who invented the drink 'Pimms'.
'I wonder if he's anything to do with the James Pimm who's on my family tree,' I said. Andy went to investigate.

And it WAS him! Actually him! Some quick research and matching up of dates, places and names revealed that James Pimm, inventor of 'Pimms', the quintessential summer drink, was my great-great-great grandfather!!

I phoned Mum and told her the auspicious news about her great-great grandfather. 'I always knew I'd married beneath myself,' she said.
I phoned Auntie Pollie, ditto. 'What went wrong?' she said. 'We should be rolling in it by now.' And I don't think she meant Pimms.

Apparently, James Pimm left Kent in his twenties for London and set up a chain of upmarket oyster bars. He then went on to invent Pimms, selling the company and the right to the name in 1865, a year before he died back here in Kent. Andy found a portrait of him in a big powdered wig, and pictures of his oyster bars in London, and lots more family information. And all the while, Pandora balanced on my shoulder like a parrot.

And the peas? Well, my peas at the allotment have been savaged by pigeons but on a quick watering visit last night (just before it rained - typical), I found actually pea-pods on the ragged foliage. And Andy's peas, gowing at home in Mrs Miggins's raised veg bed have lush foliage but not a pea-pod in sight. Make of that what you will.

I include the last item only because it begins with 'p'.

And now I need to go and keep a close eye on Andy in case he does decide to run away. But I think the brewing of elderflower may have distracted him. And the promise of a toasted cheese sandwich for lunch will always keep him close to hand!