What news? Octopus, for instance? Crab? WAIT.
1) There are no flies around. Or mice.(Global warming?)
2)In our rainy season, no clouds, little wind, no rain. Sun sun sun. (Also global warming?) Noone is yet planting.
3) Tiresome terrier has rooted up half granny's carefully cultivated nasturtiums in search of lizards; she is in disgrace.
4) Granny's first batch of candied peel is drying out in the oven (beware anyone who turns it up. Beloved please note.) The second lot is boiled up, awaits its sugaring. Impatiently; no doubt. It all, still, smells nice.
5) The swimming-pool frequented by Granny and Beloved is closed till late December. (How will they keep their aged limbs from creaking?)
6) THE OCTOPUS HAS EATEN THE CRAB. Was found this morning cosied up besides the crab shell. Had also been at the sea cucumber, judging by the little flower which had opened to its rear and through which its guts etc had been extruded - little translucent swollen strands of stuff that Beloved removed with tongs. Strange habits sea creatures have. It would be ?speciest to consider them nasty. This one protects sea cucumbers from harm so isn't nasty for it.
Octopus meantime sprawls, looking sated. Eyes open for a while; now shut. He has completely changed colour - is a delicate pearly grey, bluish in places, almost pink in others. This maybe because he's lying on pale sand instead of hiding under black plastic. (He was blackish before.) Also, maybe, because, no longer hungry, he's happier. Octopus do change colour with mood according to Beloved's acquarium bible. Granny likes this. Animal man Beloved would scoff at notion of happiness as such in animals. Still a pink and blue octopus when well fed? Suppose we - humans - did the same? Does our use of colour names for mood 'in the pink' 'blue' etc reflects some atavistic memory of evolution from invertebrates? Beloved, the scientist, would indoubtedly call this, too, crude thinking; never mind. Granny does not propose to let such practicalities inhibit her.
The carnage in our tank, though, makes her reflect on discussion in another blog, around ethics of hunting, killing animals, eating meat etc. She can hardly take a moral highline can she, as long as she allows nature red in tooth and claw to flourish in her (and her Beloved's) kitchen?
How come it's taken till her downhill plod towards the grave to discover the (morbid? no not
morbid) fascination of all this? Grannyp