Now then, ladies and gentlemen!  Ooh, that was good, huh?  Did you notice how I started with the ‘N‘ there?  The very letter that ABC Wednesday happens to feature this week!

I didn’t have to look very far for my first picture, as you see.  The Pirate is always sleeping somewhere nearby with his cute nose pointing in my direction, so there it is. For my first ‘N‘ I give you a Pirate Nose!

And while we’re on the subject of the dogs, here’s something they both hate.  Those of you with dogs will recognise these instantly as a pair of doggy nail clippers.  When The Pirate sees them in my hand he tries to hide his feet underneath himself so I can’t find them.  He’s a nervous little fellow, and he flinches and twitches and squeaks - I can never get his nails all done at once.  However, while The Princess rolls her eyes, she’s resigned and she lets me neaten her up.  She does want to look nice, after all.

I’m just waiting for her to ask for the nail varnish once her pedicure is done.

She does like to be well turned out, especially when she goes to Nene Park to stroll among her public.  Here she is with The Pirate checking out the latest pee-mail at the beginning of their walk.

And here is a gratuitous picture of the Norman arches inside the gatehouse of Peterborough cathedral, where the dogs never walk, it being in the town centre.  I put that there so you don’t notice what I’m going for next.  Although it’s a waste of time, really, isn’t it?

You see, a short while ago, it was my birthday. OH ordered some very special gifts for me, which arrived this morning. Can you guess what they could possibly be?

No, you can’t, can you?  I shall have to tell you.  Inside those three HUGE boxes are my new posters!  I can now have Secret Window, Sweeney Todd and Pirates of the Caribbean (At World’s End) up on the walls … if we can find the space.

And soon it will be time to turn the page on the calendar and find Mr November.  Here he is -

It’s ‘that guy’ again, as my sons call him.  This time in character as Fred Abberline, in the movie ‘From Hell’, and very nice too.

Oh - I mustn’t forget the ‘N‘ movies!  Up above the utility room door in the kitchen, there’s my mini Ninth Gate poster.  Looks rather good, doesn’t it?

And the other ‘N‘ would be Nick of Time.  Don’t worry if you haven’t heard of that one.  Johnny does his best (as always) and is very sweet and all, but the script is just not that good, and it’s hard to look sexy when you’re in a cold sweat the whole time and not being at all decisive.  Truth is, Depp’s character, Gene Watson, is a bit of a nonentity, although he does surprise us in the end.  Anyway, there you go.  And see what it says?  “Ninety minutes, and no choice”.

But the movie itself cannot be called notable.

I’ve still watched it a few times though.  Of course I have!

When I started to collect together my pictures for today’s ABC Wednesday, I noticed a little bit of a pattern, so I thought I’d have some fun.  You see, I started off by choosing that first picture of one of the mounts at the British Reining Championships at the stable where we go Western style riding.  Handsome, isn’t he? And so marvellous to see him standing there all alone like that, untethered.

And then I found a photograph I’d taken of the Checkerboard Mesa in Zion National Park in Utah, and it’s a different kind of mount, is it not?

So I started to think of all the different meanings of the word ‘mount‘.  And I thought of all of these -

You can mount pictures on walls

Maps, too

Or you can mount photographs in albums, using photo mounts.

You can mount photos in frames, too - and that’s me, aged about eight years old, with a goat.  They go ‘Me-e-eh!’ by the way.

And look - you can mount these library steps to reach things which are too high for you.

Or you can mount an investigation.

I could possibly mount a search for a particular movie!

Don’t ask me what a martingale has to do with anything, I just felt like including it.  This is The Pirate in his skull and crossbones martingale collar.  They’re excellent for sighthounds, because they’re nice soft fabric for their sensitive necks, but the second loop will tighten sufficiently for the collar not to slide off their narrow heads - and because it’s a ‘limited choke’ collar, it won’t strangle them, no matter how hard they pull. Clever, huh? It’s not a great photo, but it’s a good one for showing how the collar works.

Oh yeah. And here’s the man. You know the one.

Yes, him - and he appears to be mounted!

And he’s also in these magazines.

Couldn’t resist mate!

It’s odd, finding myself walking around my house once a week, muttering to myself as I try to find interesting objects beginning with a certain letter for ABC Wednesday, but it’s still fun, so I’m still doing it!

This week, it’s the letter ‘L‘, and I was a little bit surprised at how easy it was.  The first thing I found was that preposterous vehicle up there.  Okay, I actually found that in my picture folder, having taken it ‘just because’ the other day when we noticed it parked opposite our house. Funny how blogging does that to you, isn’t it?  Anyway, the funny thing about it was the when it pulled off and went to turn around, it hit our gatepost.  No damage to the gatepost, but we’re wondering if that Limo driver still has his job.

Talking of luxurious things, which I’m sure we were, here’s a picture I took of my delightfully soft leather jacket.  It’s just a piece of it, because sometimes detail makes a better picture that the whole thing, and one thing’s for sure, I am not modelling it for you.  Don’t want to go frightening people…

It’s a lovely jacket, but I don’t wear it very often.  I’m usually to be seen in a tatty old dog-walking jacket.  Warm, waterproof, and completely unglamorous.  But it’s nice to know that leather jacket is there for me, should I have a chance to wear it.

Talking of dog walking, take a look at this beautiful green velvet lead with brass fittings.

Just like my jacket, it’s far too good for walks across muddy fields.  This is one of the leads I use to take The Princess visiting on her PAT dog therapy visits. It’s part of her special ‘going out’ wardrobe.

And while we’re on the subject of fancy clothing -

How about these leggings?  Aren’t they something?  And displayed on their own little legs, too!  I found those in the brilliant sunlight of Venice Beach.

From the light to the dark … here’s an interesting object.  I wonder if you can guess what it is?

It’s a tiny lamp - only about three inches or so high.  It’s interesting because it’s a genuine antique Chinese opium lamp.  It’s silver, and I’m sure the glass would clean up and sparkle nicely, too - but for me, the fascination with antique objects is the patina of age and use that they have on them.  This has been well used, for sure, but not for some time.

That lamp has a tenuous connection with my next object, which is a letter opener.

You see, in ‘From Hell’, Johnny Depp’s character was the opium-addicted Inspector Abberline, who is seen using an opium burner similar to mine in the opening sequence of the movie.   This little letter opener is one of hundreds which were given away at the premiere.   If you look carefully, you can see the words ‘From Hell’ stamped on the handle.

These movies are all Depp movies.  ‘The Libertine’, ‘Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas’, and ‘Lost in La Mancha’.

And talking of Johnny Depp -

Here he is very kindly spending some time with a young lady in a lilac wheelchair, in Leicester Square, London, at the Charlie and the Chocolate Factory premier.

There. I bet you were wondering if I’d manage to work him in somewhere this week, weren’t you?

I’ve just been to the dentist.

On the way home, I began to relax and I could feel the blood flowing back into my fingers - it had all left my extremities to help out at the panic centre - and my heart rate slowly returning to normal.  Breathing, too.  Whew.

I know this will strike a chord with many of you. There are so many people who fear going to the dentist that it’s actually quite unusual to find someone who doesn’t.  Strangely, OH is one of those rare souls.  I say strangely, because he doesn’t really have very good teeth and he’s had far more work done in his time than I have.  He was actually written up in a dentists’ journal when he was eleven.  I kid you not.

Anyway.  It all started when I went for a six-monthly check-up about ten days ago, and Paul, my dentist, poked at all my teeth and gums with his little metal proddy tools and did the usual dentist thing where they ask you questions while your mouth is full of metal and fingers, and you haven’t a hope of answering, except to say ‘AAaugh!’ or ‘Wwroaall!’  I think they derive a lot of amusement from that, by the way.

And he felt all along my tongue and around the sides of my mouth and under my lips, and poked all the glands under my jaw and down my neck because he is a very good dentist, and he was the one who picked up on my oral cancer five years ago and referred me to a surgeon, when all my doctor would say was ‘that’s very interesting, let’s see if it clears up, shall we?’ and now he’s responsible for keeping an eye on me and making sure that there’s no problem in that department.

So I was relieved when he told me that all looked just dandy.

‘Excellent!  I said.  ‘So, back in six months?’

‘Ah .. I think we’d just better do something about that broken tooth, first’ he said.

‘Wha … ?’  I cried.   And then:  ‘A-ha-ha-ha!  You’re kidding me, right?’

He’s a funny guy, is Paul.

But …

‘Nope.  I’m surprised you can’t feel it,’ he said sternly. ‘It’s quite sharp.’

And that’s the thing, you see.  Since having that little tumour taken off the underside of my tongue, it doesn’t have the same sensitivity along that side as it did.  In fact, mostly it feels kinda numb - as if the last shot of local anaesthetic is still wearing off.  So no, I didn’t feel it, although there had been a kind of overall soreness, come to think of it.

Tonight I had to present myself at the evening clinic to get it fixed.  And I was terrified.

I was so terrified that when I climbed into the chair and he asked me cheerfully how I was doing, I started to cry.  Me.  A grown woman.  But he was very sweet and he handed me a tissue, as OH (who always accompanies me) explained to him how terrified I was, just in case he hadn’t noticed.

After a short pep talk, along the lines of ‘it won’t take a moment’ and ‘you’ll be fine’, and after we’d discussed a shot of local and I’d refused it, I shut my eyes and opened my mouth, and he began.

Yes, yes.  I know.  I can hear you all falling off your chairs in amazement, but it’s true.  He offered the magic stuff, and I said no.

You see, one of the absolute worst things about going to the dentist - and a very close second to actual pain - is the feeling of that needle sliding up into what feels like the base of my brain, and the subsequent feeling of it having left a brick up there, closely followed by three hours of my face and jaw feeling absolutely fucking awful.  The only thing worse than that is the sensation of it gradually coming back to life, when I tend to find out exactly which bits of my mouth I’ve chewed holes in whilst it was numb.

So when Paul tells me that it’s unlikely I’ll feel a thing because the filling isn’t going to be that deep, I tell him to go ahead without the local because I trust him, and because he promises faithfully to stop if I feel the slightest twinge and he’ll fill me up with anaesthetic anyway.  And so far, that’s never had to happen.  The whole process makes me very nervous, but damn! I feel good when I come out and it’s all done.

My advice to all of you, good readers, is this.  If you have a good dentist that you trust wholeheartedly, give it a try.

Let’s face it. If I can do it - a woman who walks in with fingers like ice, and promptly bursts into tears - then I’m betting you can, too.

But I still say it would be charitable if all dentists everywhere would install a DVD unit with a screen on the ceiling and show Johnny Depp movies while the work was being done.