WYSIWYG

What You See Is What You Get. This is a journal blog, an explore-blog, a bit of this and that blog. Sharing where the mood takes me. Perhaps it will take you too.

Menoturals; Cattle Crew

Here we are at Nature Friday again, joining in with the LLB gang. I'll take this moment to remind you that we start another set of twelve Final Friday Features next week - here's the 2026 'badge'!


Now, on with the next in our cattle breed miniseries. 

Last week, you saw the giant French Limousin; this week, I share another French breed, the Charolais. This was actually the first of the French to arrive on British Shores (via Scotland, as it happens) and has become so much a staple of beef farming management that there is now a distinctly British line.


I can remember my uncle getting a Charolais bull to breed with his small herd of mixed-breed heifers - and how it brought forth words to cause blushes. These are not 'beginner' cattle! If that bull decided it was headed one way, it took everything Andrew had to persuade it otherwise. Those who do know the breed well become very fond of them. If handled well, they are quite docile, but I think you really need to be with them from birth to form bonds and trust. The cow in this photo, though, was thoroughly enjoying her brush and massage!

They are bred almost entirely for their meat, though setting a 'Charlie' sire to a dairy herd is thought to improve milk quality. Although known as the white cattle, they do vary somewhat and quite often display a 'rose' colouration too - as you can see in the second photo. Not my favourite cattle, but still good looking, no denying!




Menowercogitatus; Thursday Thoughts

It has been a while since I just sat and rambled on the keyboard. It's usually a sign that, although the year has started, the YAMster, perhaps, has not! Blog fodder is short in supply as winter keeps me confined to The Hutch. In all likelihood, I shall not be back on the road with The Grey until at least March, and as Grey is due his first MOT in April, it won't be for long or far - if, indeed, I go at all. 

Meanwhile, I have to guard against too much pondering. This is the time when my mind turns to my beloved other country, Australia. It has now been twelve years since I departed its shores, but I had spent more of my life there than in any other place... I will have to live until I am 79 to equal the same number of years in Scotland as I spent in OZ. That may not seem like a big number to some, but this body has always been older than its apparent years, and to reach 79 would be a milestone for many reasons. Apart from one exception, on my mother's side of the family, 77 was the oldest. From my father's genes, there's a greater (though still slim) chance of reaching the 80s. The fact is, I am my maternal grandmother's double, and she popped her clogs in her sleep aged 68. I am working on the basis that, if I survive the next 18 months, I'll beat her record at least!

Aside from the chronic arthritis, asthma (mainly contained), and CFS/ME, my general health is pretty good. I don't have to rely on any regular medications, and although I can no longer take long hikes or contemplate any form of running, I do stretches every morning, have seat pedals to work the legs (and lungs), and do enjoy a wee jaunt with the Rolls-later when the weather permits.


I have noted that I seem to have acclimatised completely to Scottish weather. Apart from the raw, damp edge that can happen on some winter days, I mostly don't really feel the cold. Mainly because I am so happy to wrap up in all the stuff I keep producing with yarns and hooks! I have always loved layering. In OZ, there is no such thing as central heating, so one endured the cold winters (and despite what you may think, Sydney could quite often drop to low single figures centigrade, and we even had snow a couple of winters, which is unusual). I did have a little electric fire, which the J's always enjoyed. So I was able to layer up with my woollies of all types there, as well.  One or two of you had noted that I appeared all wrapped up here at the Hutch; that is because, usually, I don't bother switching on the heating. This is not, as might be thought, a cost-cutting exercise, but simply that I do not like too much artificial heat. I learned to live without it, and it is one of the things that I really had to grit my teeth about in that year I spent nursing dad (2020...) He refused to wrap up in any way, even a knee blanket, and wanted the central heating on tropical. 

Now, I am a tropical gal - when in the tropics. I have no problem at all dealing with the heat and humidity. However, the artificial heating here in the UK is mostly overwhelming. It has a lot to do with the fact that windows are tight shut - and if there is anything else the YAMster is, it's a fresh air gal! I got in such trouble for even cracking the kitchen window to try and breathe... ugh... flashbacks.

I have always been a beanie/toque gal. Even when I had a full head of hair (and I did have a LOT of hair until 'menopolyxinaemia' took its toll), I was always sensitive to cold on my crown. Now, after meno and with the additional hit of the balding gene (got that from father, at least!), I have very little hair on top, which is one of the reasons I took the shears to what was left of length. Now, full-time headgear is a must. So, expect to see yet more works of wool art in that department!

Anyway, that's my yarn for today. Oh yes, even after more than a decade away, I still have Aussie in my speech. You can take the girl out of, and all that... to yarn is to natter, have a chinwag in Aussie. (Unlike the pure English usage of 'are you spinning me one?') There are some things totally ingrained; I even still come out with dollars and cents at times. Hey ho...

There are lots of you who participate in the meme of Thankful Thursday - let me today say thank you for reading that blather and note that I am grateful to a life that has afforded me worldwide travel and experience. Many memories to serve however many years are left.











Menoizikul; Midweek Muscalisms

Sir Michael Tippett was born on the 2nd of January, 1905, in Eastcote, UK. He composed a great deal of original music, but was also adept at adaptation. One of his masterpieces was the oratorio, A Child of Our Time. It was inspired by the horror of Kristallnacht, but encompassed a reference to all oppressed peoples... (read more.) The whole piece is a little over an hour long. I encourage you to seek it out. Today, though, let us appreciate his arrangements of five popular spirituals.