Hi, Pearl here!
Did I tell you that Millie taught me to read? It took me a while to get the hang of it – especially the Kindle – but now I’m pretty good, even if I say so myself. I’ve moved on from the ABC books to children’s classics like What Katy Did and Charlotte’s Web.
Having just finished Anne of Green Gables, I was eager for more of Anne’s adventures, so I got Annabelle to download a copy of the sequel. When I first started Anne of Avonlea I was afraid my reading skills were failing me, because it just didn’t make sense. I showed it to Annabelle and she said it looked like a bad translation from a different language, done by a computer. We then checked out other Kindle versions of the book on Amazon, and guess what? They were all gibberish!
Here’s an example from one version:
“…Anne, her chin propped on her clasped palms, and her eyes at the splendid mass of fluffy clouds that had been heaping up just over Mr. J.A. Harrison’s residence like a top-notch white mountain, changed into a ways away in a scrumptious international where a certain schoolteacher changed into doing a super paintings…”
And from another:
“It did now not appear possibly that there has been lots of promising cloth for celebrities in Avonlea college; but you may by no means tell what would possibly manifest if a trainer used her have an impact on for precise.”
We’re quite sure the author* of this book didn’t use such idiotic language when she wrote it. So WTF are all these nonsense versions doing on Amazon?
If anyone can solve this mystery, we’d love to hear your thoughts!
*L M Montgomery
Posted in Pearl
Tagged Amazon, Anne of Avonlea, Anne of Green Gables, Book blogs, Books, Children's books, Classics, Dogs, Greyhounds, Pets, Reviews, Writing
Hi, Pearl here! And so is summer, it seems, with people and noise everywhere.
Call me a grouch, but it’s not my favourite season. My ears are super-sensitive and certain sounds drive me crazy, like the excited shrieks of kids on holiday and the thud of footballs being kicked around the beach. However, there’s one place the tourists (or grockles, as we call them) haven’t discovered yet, and that’s our local bluebell wood.
It doesn’t matter what’s going on elsewhere – bank holiday crowds, Scout jamborees or high winds in the treetops – this place is always peaceful. You can almost touch the stillness, and the only sound is the rich, echoing music of a blackbird. Annabelle says it’s like being in church, only better, and I think I know what she means – it’s a magical place where the presence of nature spirits is strong. As soon as you enter this little wood, it feels like a different order of reality.
You’d think a place like this would have hordes of admiring visitors in May, but we nearly always have it to ourselves. Annabelle says it’s because not many people know about it, but I think it really does exist in another dimension, which the fairies only show to special dogs – and their humans – at certain times.
Tasting the magic
I like to think that Millie’s spirit lives here – or somewhere like it – and that I’ll live here too, when it’s my turn to cross the Bridge. A place without noise is my idea of heaven!
I’m not having much luck growing flowers on Millie’s grave. I used one of those wildflower packs that contain a mix of seeds and compost. I followed all the instructions, put copper bands down to keep the slugs off, and watered the soil regularly. I also kept a close eye on Pearl to make sure she didn’t dig it up. But no plants have appeared.
Sorry about the paw prints – I just couldn’t resist!
I’m the first to admit I’m rubbish at gardening, but wildflowers are supposed to be easy. The clue is in ‘wild’. If they can grow on their own in the wild, they should surely grow when I plant them in my garden. It’s not as if the soil is poor; everything else in the garden is going viral. I have a wonderful crop of brambles and stingies!
It could be that the garden belongs wholly to the nature spirits, and I must be content with what they choose to give me.
Or maybe those ‘easy’ wildflower packs are just a con.
Posted in Annabelle
Tagged Blogging, Dogs, Flowers, garden, gardening, Greyhounds, Nature spirits, Pet bereavement, Pet cemetery, wildflowers, Writing
Pearl beams her thoughts onto the page
We’ve lost another tree from the front garden – all thanks to Storm Gareth.
We dogs are closer to Nature than humans. We can see things most humans can’t, including the elementals who control the weather – and Gareth was aptly named. To me, he looked like a monster rugby player.
Rugby players are big, strong, powerful and fast. They plough through the opposition like tanks and don’t let anything stand in their way. Recently the Welsh team has been storming its way through the Six Nations tournament, and last week Gareth came storming through our garden, hell-bent on annihilating all obstacles. He had a particular grudge against the hawthorn tree, and after several days of constant battering, it fell over onto next door’s electricity cable and had to be taken down.
Storms, trees and cables are not a good mix. Our garden used to look like this:
Now it looks like this:
When the conifers came down a while back, the fairies were angry and made life quite difficult for a while. I hope they realise this latest tree death was Gareth’s fault, and go after him instead of us!
Have you ever wondered why you can go to bed with perfectly tidy hair and yet wake up in the morning looking like you’ve swapped heads with Worzel Gummidge? Maybe you thought it was down to tossing and turning in your sleep. But look again. Can mere tossing and turning really explain such a hideous mess?
Of course not. The real cause is much more sinister. You’ve been a victim of THE GOBLIN HAIRDRESSER.
This loathsome creature sneaks into your home at night armed with an array of instruments designed to ruin your day from the outset. While you sleep, he washes your hair in cat pee and conditions it with slug slime. Then he splits every single end with his supernaturally sharp scissors. Then he dries it with a hairdryer that belts out 1000 degrees. Then he crimps and tongs it into a ludicrous construction of bulges, kinks and spikes, before backcombing it into an explosion of frizz. Finally, he smothers it in hairspray that sets like cement, ensuring you’ll waste several fruitless hours struggling to restore it to sanity…
…and he always does it the night before your have to be somewhere important, with tidy hair, first thing in the morning.
So next time you have a bad hair day, you’ll know who to blame.
Posted in Annabelle
Tagged Blogging, Fairies, Goblins, Hair, Hairdresser, Horror, magic, Nightmare, Scarecrow, Supernatural, Worzel Gummidge, Writing