Cartimandua

The other day I was sitting in the living room when a squirrel brazenly ran up the avocado tree right outside our window. I've never seen a squirrel in this tree, which isn't very big and doesn't look like it offers much in the way of nibblies or territory to explore. The squirrel seemed to agree and came right back down again, pausing just long enough for me to snap one photo.

Remember that ridiculous bottle of vermouth that we brought on our Christmas trip to Whitstable? The one with a fraction of an inch left in the bottom, that I nonetheless decided to bring all the way back to London, much to Dave's chagrin? (I'm sure you don't. Why would you?) Well, I finally finished the bottle last weekend, when I had a martini -- so it lasted another five months after Christmas. I'd say bringing it home was the right thing to do. I only ever use vermouth in martinis and they are a pretty rare indulgence, so I just want to pat myself on the back for my own thriftiness.

I used some of the money I could have blown on a new bottle of vermouth as a donation to the Yorkshire Museum, which is raising money to conserve the Melsonby Hoard, a pile of elaborate Iron Age relics including horse tackle and a wine-mixing cauldron. The hoard was found by a detectorist in 2021, and the fund drive was meant to help keep the discoveries in Yorkshire, as opposed to having them purchased by some other museum and hauled away. That seemed a worthy cause. I suppose my erstwhile interest in metal detecting (despite my antipathy toward digging holes) helped motivate me.

Anyway, I made the donation several weeks ago and ever since I've been getting regular e-mail updates from the museum that contain fascinating little snippets of information. Yesterday's, for example, was all about Cartimandua, queen of the Brigantes, an Iron Age tribe that lived in the north in pre-Roman times. Apparently the Roman author Tacitus mentioned her twice in his writings, making her the first named individual in Yorkshire history. Everyone before Cartimandua has faded into the gray mists of time.

In AD 57 she ousted her husband, Venutius, in order to take up with his armour-bearer, Vellocatus. (I'm picturing an older Venutius and a hunky young Vellocatus, thus turning Cartimandua into a cougar, but this may be more my imagination than actual history.) Venutius, in revenge, eventually drove her from power and took over himself. She reportedly survived but I'm not sure what happened to the armour-bearer. It probably wasn't good.

Olga, on our walk yesterday morning, hit the jackpot -- french fries in the gutter! Don't worry. I only let her eat a few.

Last night she got very excited because she glimpsed a fox outside the back door. I grabbed my phone and made a video through the glass. The fox seemed utterly unconcerned about our presence. I kept the dog inside.

The video quality isn't that great because I was zoomed in and shooting through glass, with reflections of the living room lights on the window, but you get a good view of the fox taking a leisurely stretch. Look how big our teasel forest has grown! I think we have even more teasels this year than last. Which is the way it works with weeds, I suppose. I'm probably going to need to rein them in.

Finally, I've already invested in a birthday treat for myself. I got tickets to go see Suzanne Vega in Brighton at the end of October. I've long been a fan of Vega, ever since college (when I badly reviewed what became her most popular album), and I've blogged about seeing her before. She's 65 now, so I don't know how many more tours she'll be doing. Dave and I will probably spend the night in Brighton and then take the next day off work. Should be fun!