Pompous Arsehole!

Twenty five or so American Mormon visitors filled the Churchyard this afternoon as the dogs and I walked back from the new cemetery beyond my field.
They all got off a coach parked up on the main road by the school.
I stopped to ask them if I could help them with any questions on the history of the village as many were looking for the graves of their ancestors with the name of " Parry"
I love feeling important!
One lady listened to me spouting forth on the history of the village to a group of bored looking fellow yanks and then asked politely if she could take a photo!
" if you like" I said thinking of a pose I could strike which would inform them I was " professional and dignified and which wouldn't show my double chin"
She smiled her thanks, clapped her hands in excitement and took what seemed like a hundred photos of each of the dogs!
That will teach me! 

The Pleasures Of Cheap White Bread

oh Lord, no posts over the weekend! That's not like me. We had a busy day on Saturday then I was working all day Sunday which was followed by a twilight shift at Samaritans . I didn't get home until 1.30 am, tired and somewhat jaded only to be faced with the body of a rabbit lying headless under the catflap.
I've counted just three adult rabbits on the field this morning. The only survivors of the myxomatosis  plague of last month.
Anyhow, I  caught neighbour Betty standing at the field gate when I returned home from dropping the Prof off for his train journey to Cardiff. She was waving two pieces of cheap white bread above her head like an elderly semaphore enthusiast.
This happens a great deal from time to time, especially as several locals now understand just how much the sheep adore these delicate morsels. All it takes, with one or two wafts of a slice, and both Sylvia and Irene bust an absolute gut to overcome their natural shyness to  gallop up to the gate in order to coyly accept the offering and chomp away with eyes closed in happy rapture.
Animals like people, love a treat.
For  George it's miniature cocktail sausages whereas William will go weak at the knees over a cheap spar meatball.
Winnie having eclectic tastes, prefers roast beef and lamp shank. ( and there is a facebook video doing the rounds with my friend Greta and her husband feeding her such tidbits with a fork at the dinner table!)
I still go weak at the knees over the mere glimpse of a scotch egg whereas the Prof especially loves a cheesy ball!
( make of that what you will)
Anyhow back to cheap white bread!
I adore the smell of it, and the way that you can reduce it to dough just by pressing it hard between your fingers! It reminds me of those 1970s Fridays at my grandmothers' where jam sandwiches made with baking margarine and strawberry jam and a cup of sweet tea was the order of the afternoon!
Baked beans always tastes better of toast made from cheap white bread!
Try It and you'll see I am right.
Pippa, from the Rectory, often comes around with all sorts of designer rye bread and hard as rock expensive French baguettes for the sheep to eat and they nibble on her offerings with a politeness bordering on boredom. Betty's cheap crusts go down so much easier.
My sheep are like me, they are easily pleased.

I'm An Optimist

These are the things I am presently looking forward to

 

My nickname was Greymouse in school! 

• Holidays in Spain, Broadstairs, Sheffield and New York later this year!
• Days out planned in London with hubby,
• My retirement at the end of July
• Visiting the new Storyhouse Theatre and Cinema in Chester ( which used to be the old Odeon)
• Losing more weight and buying nicer clothes( and see below)
• Being able to bend over without farting
• Getting fitter with badminton ( and still beating the Prof as I do so)
• Watching The Mist tv show! ( a tv version of one of my favourite films!)
• Learning Spanish ( I aim to start classes in September)
• Catching up with my old friends more ( Nu, Nige, Mike, Bev, Jane, Kath, Bel-Ami, Hazel, ) 
• Going to comic con  just once to meet Norman Reedus and Melissa Mc Bride ( Walking Dead) 
• Seriously starting to write a book
• Starting a pottery night class ( I have always wanted to )
• Getting a new kitchen finally sorted! 
• Finally Winning the Quiche class at The Trelawnyd Flower Show
• Joining the community choir in Gwaenysgor ( I am not talented enough for the Village MVC)
• Get a scotch egg tattoo! - a tiny grey mouse holding it! ( my nickname in school was greymouse!)

GWhat are you looking forward to?
I'd be interested to know xxxx

The new Walking Dead?

Chester nights out

My spiritual home

What's Happening?.

 Manet's painting A Bar at the Folies-Bergere was the highlight of my trip to The Courtauld Gallery. There is something rather sad and remote about the hostess'  expression that catches the eye and it draws the viewer into the painting and the girl's possible backstory.
I listened to two elderly thespian types who described the subject as a prostitute which perhaps makes sense of her withdrawn, slightly uninterested look. I enjoyed hearing and experiencing their passion for the paintings as they tottered around.
The Courtauld was quiet, a thing I love when I visit a gallery or museum The silence and space, free of bodies allows you to think about the paintings properly

Today couldn't be more different. The weather is colder and damp, and the dogs are uncharacteristically quiet as they always are after the excitement of being away. I must also thank blog reader Amy today who sent me a blanket to forward on to Auntie Glad.which I will do next week, a very kind thought, thank you!

The Welsh poppies, lively in their yellow, spring colour are flowering in the garden. They have lightened the day

Casanova

 From it's first few minutes, I just knew we were watching something very special. The Northern Ballet's production of Casanova ( playing for just a few days at Saddler's Wells ) started with a real bang! A Gothic cathedral, with nuns, hooded monks and inquisition cardinals dressed in vibrant red gliding back and forth alongside an overtly sexual young Casanova, the ballet was a totally theatrical experience and a feast for the eyes from the get-go
It was amazing! At times incredibly moving, sexy, adventurous and wonderfully exciting.
I couldn't praise it more highly even though some of the narrative in the second half was somewhat confusing.
If you get the chance to see it, please do so. Even the Prof wants to see it again!

 

I had a lovely 24 hours in the capital. Breakfast in the skygarden
A visit to The Courtauld Gallery at Somerset House , a bit of shopping, lunch at Dishoom and a snooze in Green Park.....lovely xxx

Quote of the day

I arrived at the kennels early and caught the owner  harassed, lumbering and running late
" Can you hang on a minute!? " she called from the locked courtyard as she busied herself with collecting a collection of barking dogs.
" I've not stopped " she yelled "I haven't had time to even put my bra on!" 
I burst out laughing and despite myself I looked to check.

Now I am on the London train, having suffered the irritation of the many already drunk racegoers going to the Chester races. I have on my best disapproving Miss Jean Brodie face on as you can see
Hey ho

" A Herd Of Baby Elephants"

What is your best bit of the day?
I'll tell you mine in a moment, not that it shall be of any great surprise to most Going Gently readers, but then it will make a gentle anecdote to gently start of the day!
I was in Tesco's this morning buying a giant sized bottle of Prosecco- like you do!
Ok I must have looked like a slightly upmarket dipso preparing for a mornings tipple in front of Jeremy Kyle, especially as it was one minute past 7 (am ) but I did have a good reason. Winnie goes to her Babysitters for a day or so as I am off to London with to meet the Prof and another trip to the ballet ( my Christmas gift to him) and so the keep the babysitter onside Prosecco gifts will be offered.......anyhow as usual, I am digressing! ( I also forgot to add that I lost a further 7.5lbs at fat club last night!)

My Best Bit Of The Day ( now I do sound like a contestant on Just A Minute) is the few seconds " happy realisation " that I have returned to bed after 5.30 am morning walks.
With the Prof happily sitting over his boiled egg and iPad news at the kitchen table, the dogs, Albert and I amble  back in after a dozen wee stops all bleary eyed and still sleepy. Everything is serene to the point of coma until we all get to the stairs and the mad scramble for the best bed position starts.
" For Fuck's sake, it's a herd of baby elephants!" Is the Prof's usual comment as we thunder up the stairs and in a mixture of brute strength, the lifting of the oldies and juvenile jumping everyone ( four dogs, one cat and I) have managed to get onto the double bed within seconds.
It reminds me of one of those 1970 Guinness Book of Records pranks where 30 students cram themselves into a phone box! anyhow I digress again!

By 5.45am we are all asleep

This is my best bit of the day!
What's yours?

Black ( or was that brown?) Humour

I worked all yesterday on day shift, which was a change.
A nurse, who I hadn't worked with for an absolute age asked me what I would miss about work once I retire in nine or so shifts time....and without thinking too much, I told her honestly
" Nurse humour"

Nurses' humour is notoriously dark.
It is dark but never bleak, and can be rude to the point of making a docker wince.
It also can seem terribly irreverent to people " not on the same wavelength" , but it is not designed to be listened to by non nurses....nurse humour is for nurses only!

I've told this story before, but I remember my mother recalling an overheard whispered conversation between three nurses at the end of their terribly hard night duty shift.
One nurse hurried to the nurses' station and hissed at her colleagues" I've just found another one dead!" To which all three burst into nervous laughter!

I've seen alot of this kind of behaviour over the years.

Years ago a rather nasty neurologist who had come to the ward on which I worked to re assess a patient that was in a vegetative state, rounded on a sister who he thought didn't quite show him the respect he expected. After making a fool of her he then asked her if the patient had changed neurologically since he last visited
" He spoke briefly after you saw him" she said seriously
"And exactly what did he say?" the consultant snarled
" Don't let that rude twat visit me again" she replied.

It is well know that a "code Brown " means that help is required with a full bed of poo and rose cottage is the nickname for the mortuary, but these are the polite areas of nurse humour.
The hidden reality is much, much darker.......
.......and so much funnier!

Prof's Birthday Night Out

We went to a retro 1970s Italian last night for a meal to celebrate the Prof's Birthday
He enjoyed himself
Honest

Bringing The Outside In.

Yesterday's blistering blue skies have turned a cold grey and Wales has returned to it's native drabness.
The Prof has numerous deadlines to reach by Monday , so apart from a brief tussle with his twenty year old personal trainer this morning and a meal out with me this evening ( I'm taking him to a popular Italian place in Conwy), he will be hidden away in his office.
Like most academics his office is a functional place in which to work, and before he went out this morning he asked me if there was anything I could do to cheer the place up a bit before he started his writing.
Thinking of those lovely photos of yesterday, and after a surreptitious flit round with a duster, I decided to bring a bit of the field onto his desk to lift the gloom of the day.

When I was collecting the flowers I noticed that the baby rabbits , in their enclave, are all now showing signs of disease

A Photo blog

Sometimes I write too much. This afternoon I have been strimming the field. The dogs and Albert accompanied me. A lovely, lovely afternoon..here are the photos

The cottage with the Gop in the background covered in flowering gorse

Winnie spied Monika and her baby in the churchyard and went off to investigate

( they had sandwiches)

The Church

Albert

,

George and Winnie 

A rare shot of everyone together 

Irene and Sylvia standoff the dogs 

william chasing the batchelors 

Polish monika's little girl with Winnie And Wiliam 

The montanta growing over the gate 

Are You Sitting Comfortably?

" That's Winnie, she's a rescue bulldog!" 
So proclaimed a small boy dressed who was dressed in a blue pullover after he had crossed the road outside the school.
The boy and his younger brother stopped briefly to rub Winnie's nippleline  before being whisked away by a busy mom. The mother said something to him and I heard him say " He told us a story in school"
I remember giving him and others an outline of Winnie's history after being surrounded by kids when picking up the despot's girls one afternoon. They were fascinated and somewhat horrified by the fact she was not allowed to suckle her own puppies, their imaginations sparked by what seemed such a cruel and odd act.
Children love a good story..
Much of Going Gently is storytelling I am aware of that. I have inherited the habit of sharing stories from my mother and Grandmother who were naturally dramatic raconteurs of a good tale. Give them an audience, and off they could go, recounting oral histories of wartime dramas and near miss encounters with the luftwaffa better than anything Ian McKellen could do ever do on stage.
Family Oral histories are handed down through generations, that is until they are petered away by processes of dilution.
We have no children of our own to impart these tales to and the children of my siblings are now removed from the family memories somewhat which are themselves dulling with time.
Sadly so many of our oral histories will go the way of the wind.

If you could choose just one story-one to share and one to keep forever- which one story would you pick?

Myxomatosis

Myxomatosis has hit the village rabbits with a vengeance .
It's a terrible terrible disease.
The affected rabbits suffer rapid weight loss, lesions and tumours over their faces and genitals and die a painful death after respiratory complications set in only fourteen days after being infected by host fleas. Only perhaps 35% of the population will survive.
Albert usually drags in baby rabbits during the spring months and even he has stopped feeding on the field. It's as though he knows the animals are tainted and like the sad zombies on The Walking Dead the dying crouch feebily on the sides of the lane and road waiting to die.
At the bottom of my field, isolated by thick brambles, a small enclave of young rabbits remain seemingly healthy and playful.
I watched them this morning, playing together in the dawn sun.
I hope they survive this outbreak, but things do look rather bleak

Thinking

I facetimed my husband just before he went to bed in his London hotel room this evening
He 's had a crap birthday.
He asked me if all the dogs were on the bed and I said "of course not!"
Of course they were!
Hey ho
Before I went to bed Winnie sat in the arm chair next to me and carefully watched me for over an hour as I watched tv
I have no idea why, but she did it..... There must have been a reason....she looked so serious!
Bulldogs think..I know they do........but of what? .......I have no idea

Wiff?

Can anyone recognise these flowers?
I've filled the cottage with them today.
Delicate spiky petals in a starburst shape.
Wild garlic, grown on the borders of the field.
I adore the smell of garlic, I can't get enough of it......the cottage now smells like an Italian restaurant and I couldn't be happier.
You can't smell dog!

When I wear aftershave, I wear Clinique HAPPY 
I like the smell of fairy soap and find that carbolic smell of old hospitals strangely nostalgic.
And I love the aroma of pea and ham soup when it is simmering.

Roast chicken, fried onions and newly laid tarmac are favourites too as are honeysuckle and jasmine and I must not forget to add butterscotch angel delight, fresh coriander and nappy cream to the list.
But tonight, I'm happy with garlic

What's on your list?

Happy Birthday Prof!

Today is the Prof's birthday.
He's working away in London overnight.
I got up at 5.30 , made  him tea and presented him with his cards in bed before I was even awake.
He seemed to like my gift of tickets to Swan Lake at The Royal Opera House .
I dropped him off at the train station before 7 am and packed him off with a small bag of goodies from Marks. 
I went to Marks and Spencers yesterday and conscripted the jaunty Angela into my quest to set up the Prof with some birthday goodies. Initially I only asked the saleswoman if she had any miniature cakes ( the Prof like me is healthy eating) but after learning I was collecting a birthday goodie bag she warmed to our quest and helped me dig out a few choice bits and bobs which included miniature chocolate bars, little bottle of wine, a bag of nuts(!) birthday candles and the like. For a minute she disappeared excitedly into the card section and returned with a small multicoloured mass of birthday streamers and a classy party bag to complete the ensemble and then ooohhed enthusiastically when I showed her some posh moisturiser I had bought to beef up the gift! 
Middle aged ladies do love a gay shopping drama!

A Spoonfull Of Sugar

Saving Mr Banks was on tv last night and it proved to be an unexpected gem of a movie thanks primarily to the standard of the acting. Tom Hanks as Walt Disney and Emma Thompson as P.L Travers ( the writer of the Mary Poppins books) were absolutely top notch and at the top of their game!
The film was ostensibly the story of how Disney courted the prickly Travers in order to get her to sign over the film rights of her beloved heroine but it had much more to say about how the ghosts of the past visit the lives of the living, and not always in a positive , healthy way.
I blubbed through the final third of it like a good un.

We all live with our own ghosts from the past. Bereavement, childhood disappointments, parent divorce, sadness, illness and abuse of all kinds , being a child is often fraught with damaging moments that disappear under the banality of life only to resurface at inopportune moments of adulthood.

I once washed a patient's hair when they were on skull traction. It was a tricky proceedure as the patient, a man in his fifties , had broken and dislocated his neck only a week or so before, but as his hair was matted with blood after the callipers had been literally screwed into his skull, the job needed to be done.
Slowly I rinsed the man's scalp with warm soapy water, making sure that spinal alignment was maintained, and as the bloody water flowed away into the bucket on the floor I saw he was  crying away large silent tears and those tears just didn't stop.

This emotional  'reaction' to paralysis and trauma was a common event in spinal injuries , especially when a nurse performed intimate cares with patient behind the safety of closed curtains, but my assumption in this case was oh so wrong as I found out after I had wiped away the tears the patient was in no position to wipe away himself.

" My Mother died when I was ten years old " The patient eventually told me in way of an apology " You washing my hair suddenly reminded me of her " .
He cried for an age afterwards, the grief about his disability  finally being unleashed by a dreadfully painful and precious childhood memory of a mother lost.

Village Voting

The view from our bedroom...spring has sprung

This week the people vote for our county councillor representative and two Trelawnyd-ites are up for election.
I know them both.
Helen Papworth, a quietly spoken woman who lives down our lane, is a writer and illustrator. David Ellis has been a stalwart of the village infrastructure for many years. I am sure both would hold the village and its population as their priority if they were elected, so in the similar way that the BBC is publicly impartial in such matters I shall keep my thoughts on who would be the better choice to myself.
I used to be on the community council myself, but that was in the days that The Red Faced Welsh Farmer was alive and very much kicking. Then the community council meetings were an entertaining bunfights  with TRFWF throwing conspiracy theory after conspiracy theory at the harassed Chair with much shouting and a twinkle in his eye. It was worth sitting through the dross just to watch him perform!
Alas things are much more professional now.
I was talking about the local elections to a nameless villager only yesterday.
He said he wasn't voting at all, claiming all councillors to be " a shower of shits" 
We all have an opinion.
I bumped into Affable Despot Jason yesterday too. It's springtime and  he's out of his usual hibernation, so much so that he's started a new cycling fitness regime. "I'm up to 50 miles " he told me proudly, tossing his floppy hair and flexing his muscles like Gaston from Beauty And The Beast.
" It's a mid life crisis" despot wife Claire chuckled as she got into her car

New blog character " Tinkering Pete" waved as I passed and asked me a question on The Walking Dead. He was hoovering and cleaning the inside of his ice blue vintage Jaguar, ( something he does every day of the week- hence the nickname)
His beloved car will be entered into the local car show at the end of the month,the very successful car show which is organised by my brother in law Tim! See
http://prestatyncarshow.blogspot.co.uk
Mrs Trellis was practising her piano when I turned the dogs for home, I think she was performing ragtime which seemed a little incongruous to me, I wondered idly who she would be voting for in the elections?

Their Finest

Claflin and Arterton

Sometimes all you need is a good solid movie to entertain you.
It doesn't have to be sparkling, worthy or great.
It just needs to be satisfying.
Their Finest is such a movie.
Set at the height of the war in bomb torn London, it tells the story of Catrin Pugh ( Gemma Arterton) a fledgling writer who is employed by the Government's propaganda department to co-write an "uplifting" movie script.
Of course the path of such an endeavour is not an easy one as Catrin has to negotiate sexism, a temperamental diva in the shape of aging actor  Ambrose Hilliard ( Bill Nighy) and antagonism from a flawed but terribly attractive boss Sam Claflin. But with some plucky charm, the help of a
wisecracking lesbian manager ( a statuesque Rachel Sterling) and a fortunate meeting with two movie struck Kent twins who failed to reach the stranded Dunkirk troops in their father's fishing boat) all comes good in tbe end.
Their Finest looks all rather lovely. The stars are fabulous in their forties outfits, the backdrop of the bombing lends a certain drama to the proceedings ( though, in my opinion not nearly enough) and Nighy brings his usual and very welcome laconic charm and humour to his comic relief.
Arterton is rather good too as the sweet and not-so-innocent Catrin but the film is really dominated by Claflin who underplays his role as the bad tempered senior writer , eventually softening to Catrin's charms with a shy smile!
Their Finest is worth a visit. It's it's not a fantastic movie but it an IS entertaining one.
7/10

George

George now looks like a proper Scottie

He's twelve

And he ate 12 cocktail sausages all to himself as a treat in Sainsburys car park! 

A sweet, sweet moment!