About Uncles

They don't make uncles like they used to, in my opinion. My children have 3 uncles. The first they never see because he lives in America and never comes over, and the second they rarely see as he lives in Salisbury and rarely comes over. The third one, who they see frequently, is more like a proper uncle but they don't really think of him as such as they can remember when he got married to my sister.
Uncles were different in my day. They had proper uncle names. They took and active part in my life which included dragging me through water sprinklers, making me touch stinging nettles and electric fences, singing comic songs to me and generally doing the more fun things in life (most of which led to them to be given a sound telling off by whichever Aunt they were married to). They remembered my birthday (probably, I suspect, due to the Aunts). I had 2 uncles, a town uncle who was good at making things and a country uncle who taught me so much about the wildlife and plants as we walked through the countryside around his home. These 2 uncles figure prominently in happy holidays and Christmases in the past (I have memories of being made snowballs by one and being plied with homemade country wine by the other at what must have been a highly inappropriate age).
Frank, my country uncle, died a couple of years ago and Jack, my town uncle, died shortly after Christmas, so I am now uncle-less. I miss them both and am grateful to them for being the wonderful uncles they were.

Why blog?

My New Year's resolution for 2012 was to Blog. Why? Because at least 2 people told me I should and I always do as I'm told (exceptions may apply). I did have my suspicions that these 2 people had an ulterior motive - to stop me littering their Facebook feeds with numerous pointless comments - but I resolved nonetheless. So here it is, only 12 months behind schedule, my inaugural Blog! Ta da!
Um, so what do I blog about?
Let's start with my title, my alter ego, Viking Wolf Lady. About 2 years ago the family got into re-enacting. When Joe was about 4, it became inevitable that one day we would become reenactors the way other more normal families anticipate they'll have an annual skiing holiday. His passion for history, particularly the pre-Medieval stuff, was intense. We would go to historic sites where reenactors were putting on displays and while normal families went round the displays then left, we would go round, then round again, and again, trying on all the armour and wielding all the weapons available. When Joe reached 14 and the passion had not abated, we gave him the choice of what society to join, one thing led to another and by the summer of the same year we were all clad in linen, wool and leather and pretending to be Vikings. As you do.
The wolf bit? Having owned cats forever we decided to get a dog. Some friends had a wolfdog who was calm and good natured so we got a puppy who wasn't. Blaez, as we had called our male pup, was followed 3 months later by Ebonnie (named by the breeder, she has black markings and comes from the Orkney islands - work it out) who was even less calm and good natured. Owning wolf-dogs has been quite an adventure and I now suspect I am known locally and in various dog walking venues as That Crazy Wolf Lady. Now nearing 2 the dogs are just beginning to calm down, though having a house with 5 adolescents over the past few months has been an interesting challenge.
Hopefully I don't need to explain the rest of the title.
So there it is, and wasn't it easy. Now, let's see if I can actually post it......