She wore a yellow ribbon

She wore!  She wore!  She wore a yellow ribbon!

She wore a yellow ribbon in the merry month of May,

And when!  I asked!  Oh why she wore that ribbon,

She said: "It's for the Arsenal and we're going to Wembley!"

Wembley!  Wembley!

We're the famous Arsenal and we're going to Wembley!

Wembley!  Wembley!

We're the famous Arsenal and we're going to Wembley!

This song was first chanted by Arsenal fans in the 1950s, but gained popularity two decades later, during Arsenal's famous 1971 FA Cup victory, where the Gunners beat Liverpool 2-1 in extra time to clinch the club's first league and cup double.  The scorer of Arsenal's winner that day was Charlie George, but there's something even more fascinating to me than the brilliant photo below - the fact that my Grandad was there!  Grandad apparently managed to get hold of some tickets from the legendary ticket tout Stan Flashman whom, for some reason, he knew.  

Charlie George celebrates the winner in the '71 cup final (Source: Arsenal.com)

Grandad spent his whole life an Arsenal fan, following them after Clifford Bastin's move to the Gunners from Exeter City in 1929.  After Grandad passed away two years ago, I came into possession of his souvenirs from the '71 cup final - a little novelty scarf and a pennant - not much really, but items that I'll treasure, and maybe someday pass on to an Arsenal fan of the future.

So here we are, ready and excited for today's cup final - the FA Cup, still the greatest club competition in the world, still conjuring up the memories of great ties past, giant-killings, fantastic goals, dramas and emotion, as two teams battle it out to win that beautiful and iconic silverware.  And I'll be cheering with the best of them, screaming at the TV, bemoaning every foul, clapping every tackle, leaping up-and-down in jubilation, holding my head in disappointment, going through the whole spectrum of emotions that comes with a cup final.  Mostly I'll be doing it for me... But partly I'll be doing it for Grandad.  She wore!  She wore!  She wore a yellow ribbon....

Grandad (back row, second from left) in his Newton Spurs days

Introducing rummies

Our little slice of the Amazon basin is maturing well since my last blog.  The plants have grown lush, the tips of the tallest leaves now tickling the surface of the water, such as this beautiful Amazon sword plant, echinodorus argentinensis.  The change in mood that this burst of foliage has created is lovely.  The fish, once in some sort of proportion to the green leaves, are now dwarfed by them, but this is no bad thing – it offers much more of a natural environment, in which fish find comfort and security in the good shelter provided.  This scene is being recreated around the tank, and now that the bogwood and old woody roots have developed their own colonies of moss and algae, we’ve moved past the new tank stage and into a more mature, established phase.

Black widow tetras are real characters in the Amazon biotope.  Greedy and gregarious, they are now truly settled and are exhibiting the natural behaviour and colours.  They’re a subtle fish, probably oft-over-looked for the more fanciful species, but when a shoal comes together, their shadowy movements, combined with lovely round bodies, jet-black bars behind their gills, and grey-to-black anal fins (from which they get their common America name, the black skirt tetra) are a wondrous sight.  Off-set against a tropical backdrop of real plants (you just cannot beat real plants in an aquarium – I’d never have anything else,) there really is no better occupant for this type of set-up.

As promised back in February, I’ve now introduced some more tank-mates to this biotope, in the form of the popular rummy-nose tetra.  I’ve never kept rummies before, but always admired them and vowed that at some point, when I had an established tank, I would introduce them.  Rummy nose tetras are not a fish for the absolute beginner, nor are they a species for a brand new set-up.  Sensitive-as-hell to water chemistry, they don’t tolerate change very well and sadly, I did lose a couple on the first introduction.  The survivors adapted nicely, and so I’ve bolstered their numbers with a second trip to the local fish shop, and now have a decent-sized shoal finning its way all around the habitat.  Fish like this need the security of a shoal to thrive – and thriving is how I’d describe them now.  It’s a well-known fact that a rummy nose tetra will let you know pretty sharpish if the water’s not up to standard, as their red heads fade, and can in fact disappear into a silvery-grey.  Conversely, if they’re happy, their heads will dazzle blood-red, and I’m pleased to say that’s what I’m seeing each-and-every day.  It’s a thrilling sight, and one that will never become boring.

I’ve explored a couple of other options for my tank, and did fancy introducing a group of corydoras catfish, but my research suggests that these creatures won’t be at their best on gravel, as their long and delicate barbels are more suited to sand.  So, whilst the tank is understocked, with loads of space to swim, room to grow, and with the biological filter ticking over nicely without being over-stressed, this is where I’ve decided to leave it.  Two species, living in harmony, in a well-balanced tank where nature, and not man, is the star.  It’s the fish keeper’s dream!

Spring garden update

We're hurtling towards the summer season and this weekend, there has been much more than a simple hint of the warm weather to come.  The sun blazed in the sky, and with Lizzie away watching Take That in Birmingham, I slopped the sun cream all over my arms, face and neck, and set to work on what I am calling The vegetable level of our garden.  It's a mostly concrete and paving level, separating the deck in front from the woodland bank behind, but there's plenty of potential to exploit here.  Over the last few weeks, I've removed some of more stupidly-placed paving slabs, revealing good, fertile soil underneath, into which I have planted some oriental poppies, flowering chives, and a borage plant - essentially, a new border designed with bees in mind.  The concrete nature of this part of the garden doesn't mean it need be barren of life, however, and the whole area lends itself to container gardening.  Since Easter, our windowsill has been packed out with seedlings and young plants, and most of these have now been planted up in pots of all shapes and sizes.  In have come courgettes, cucumbers, pumpkins, raspberries, chard, spinach, lettuces, strawberries, tomatoes, and two very proud sunflowers.  The transformation here has been great to work on - just look at it now (right) compared to just five weeks ago (left):

One new addition, which I'm hoping will really increase the wildlife we see this summer, is a new container pond.  I've packed it with some lovely water plants, a bit of gravel, some pebbles, and a few broken branches which create an escape route for any stranded creatures.  For a good wildlife pond, the water needs to be dechlorinated, good quality and as natural as possible, so I've found an inexhaustible supply - my indoor fish tank, from which I syphon out several litres of water on a weekly basis, and which I will now use to keep the water here fresh.  The result, I really hope, will be damselflies, dragonflies, and maybe even one of the frogs or toads that I have spotted around the garden in recent months.

Container pond

Wildlife, as you may have guessed from this post, is central to our enjoyment of the garden, and is very much as the forefront of our minds.  We're not using pesticides, and we're trying to maximise the habitats on offer for a range of insects, birds, mammals, amphibians and reptiles.  The neglect that appears to have been shown to the plot by the previous occupants is not necessarily a bad thing, for biodiversity appears to have thrived as a result, and it is this that we want to encourage further.  Exciting sights over the last couple of weeks include a female slow worm, a bank vole and, just yesterday, a caterpillar of a Jersey tiger moth.  Apparently the Jersey tiger moth, once confined to the Channel Islands, has taken up residence in Devon and Cornwall, as well as other south coast counties, and the hairy little critter certainly looked at home here.

Slow worm

Jersey tiger moth caterpillar

What else is happening in the garden?  Well, a rather lovely patch of oxeye daisies has sprung up in the front garden, and we decided to keep this when we cut the grass last week.  The front garden is also home to a stunning and beautifully-scented rose, poking over the wall, and although technically belonging to next door, is a plant we're really enjoying.  At the back of the house, the grape hyacinths of the woodland bank have died back, giving way to an abundance of white bells, whilst elsewhere the intense scarlet flowers of our azalea, the lovely mellow pink of weigela, and the butterfly-loved lilac of buddleia frame the garden, mixing a perfect amount of colour into the lush and healthy greenery of a garden in spring.  This weekend has given a taste of what the summer may have in hold - and I can't wait to see more.

Next door's rose

Azalea in full bloom

Mommy, are the characters real?

We've seen the shows, been thrilled on the rides, been enticed in the shops, and eaten our own body weight in all the wrong kinds of food.  What's left at Disneyland for a childless couple to possibly enjoy?  Umm, that'll be the parades then.

Disney's most famous characters are all here, waving, blowing kisses, beaming out those ubiquitos Disney smiles that are obviously part of the job description.  Alan Whicker, in his exploration of Disney World in 1971, was told about pixie dust, that sprinkle of magic in which every employee of the Disney Corporation is expected to immerse themselves, during every second of their work.  It comes out everywhere - the shop assistants, the grounds keepers, the waitresses and the ride attendants - but nowhere is it more pronounced, more obvious, more explicit, than during the iconic Disney Parade.

The spectators gather all the way down Main Street, ushered into neat rows by stewards who seem to part the crowds like Moses at the Red Sea.  The pitter-patter of the rain, and the wind blowing up the cobbles, betray the warmth of feeling running through the crowds.  From the distance comes the sweet sound of jovial music, and over heads can be seen a mob of colour, slowly making its way along the road, a stark contrast to the dismal grey drizzle.  We pick a spot behind two of the smallest children, a tactic that ensures an excellent view, and as the first float approaches, a little girl turns to her mother and asks, enchanted: "Mommy, are the characters real?"

There follows a cacophony of sight and sound, as all those heroes and heroines - plus a few villains thrown in for good measure - file past.  They're playful, involved, interactive, and choreographed to perfection.  The kids love it, the adults admire it, and despite the cheesiest soundtrack that ever was written, it goes down a storm.  New faces to the Disney repertoire mingle with old favourites like King Louie, Merlin the Wizard and Mary Poppins, and it's pretty hard not to get swept along in the fun and good nature of the afternoon.

After sunset, Disneyland takes on an altogether different character.  The shops and eateries, lit up like Christmas trees, become all-the-more inviting, whilst Sleeping Beauty's castle seems bigger, and much more sinister.  Disneyland after dark, where the rides shut down one-by-one, and where spaces filled with laughter only hours before, become the dim home of shadows and echoes.  By 8pm, everyone has made their way to the foot of the castle, where they wait in hushed anticipation.  If the afternoon's Disney parade is good, then what happens later in the evening is world-class.  A mind-blowing display of waterworks, fireworks, and animation is played out for twenty minutes, to ooos, aaaahs, cheers, claps, gasps and the odd sing-along.  It's a new high, the very pinnacle of all the entertainment on offer, and leaves a lasting impression on the audience that makes you realise, these guys really know what they're doing.

It's a fine way to leave Disneyland, basking in its own fantastic display of lights and lasers, and there is a certain awestruck feeling in the air as the spectators stream for the exit.  For us, it's a magnificent farewell to Walt, and tomorrow a train back home, where life will once again pick up its rhythm and routine.  We know Disneyland isn't the most authentic location for a holiday, and it doesn't exactly score highly for a cultural experience.  But dig a little deeper under the surface, as I've tried to do with this series of blogs, and you'll find a world of history, literature, and music, all of which are bound deep within the Disney story.  It's not so much the park itself that sticks in the mind, but the homage to heritage that it represents, and that has been so proudly and brilliantly presented at almost every turn, by people who really know how to put on a show worthy of the world's greatest animator.