Oh Lordy

I deleted today's post by mistake as I was waiting for the car to pass it's MOT
IT's my fat fingers on my iPhone .
It is a bit like threading a needle with a raw sausage !
Yesterday's post cost me three followers! I should have known better!
I thought it was measured and fair.
At least Ursula got all moist over it.
She loves conflict.

I fell over this morning as I was trying to take a picture of a kingfisher.
The kingfisher in question was a seven foot wooden sculpture on the banks of the river Elwy and not the actual bird, although I managed to witness the real thing as it looped over the water quite, quite beautifully.
It was a wonderful thing to see on a sunny morning.

Two elderly ladies on sticks saw me slide down the long grassy bank on my arse.
I think it provided them with quite a spectacle given the fact that Mary's lead was wrapped around my wrist and she followed me quite gleefully a second after I had disappeared from view!
It must have looked all rather Wile E Coyote
They stopped and asked if I was alright which was sweet of them .


I Don't Understand


Yesterday I was asked by a villager to be a referee for them.
The reference was for a shotgun licence.
When I was asked, I must admit I did hesitate for a moment, but as the shotgun was an antique, had been dismantled and was kept by the most responsible of owners I was happy to oblige.

 Now I've  blogged about gun laws before and the ensuing debate it caused opened my eyes to a few things, namely the near fanatical way many Americans view their right to bear arms.
Owning an antique family heirloom is one thing which is acceptable to me. If the owner was a farmer and wanted to use the gun at work, then I would have signed the forms too. But if the gun owner just wanted the gun " as protection" then I would have refused the request.

One of the biggest reasons for gun ownership in the US seems to be for protection. It's a kill them before they kill me mentality and although I do disagree with it, I do understand it to a degree.
What I cannot get my head around at all is the need for some seemingly ordinary people to keep automatic weapons. Automatic weapons that can kill 58 people and wound nearly 500 in just under an hour.

I just don't understand that.
And I never will.

Mine

He works too hard.
He can't knock a nail into a piece of wood.
He's crap at badminton.
He wakes far too early in the morning and switches on his bloody iPad
He's loud when I want to be quiet.
He moans constantly about the fact I leave my clothes on the floor of the bathroom.

My husband is finally home today after a week away
And I am very glad! 

What Makes Us Human?

I heard Melvin Bragg talking in about this subject in an essay of his, that he read out on the radio.
His take on it is that humans have and hold dear and indeed cultivate friendships.
I think he is right.
Animals have companions.Companions that they live with, play with and spend time with but they don't have friendships. Friendships are quintessentially a human phenomenon .
A dear friend of mine has just received some life changing news.
He was stoic, and typically cavalier about the whole thing but did show the real emotions behind the mask of ok-ness when I pushed him gently.
I have known him twenty years or so and I am glad to be able to stand in his corner now, as he would do in mine if the tables were turned.
That's what friends do.
My best friend Nu, picked up on my upset and waded in with some support of her own. It was a brief phone call. I had been washing Mary's " Mary" in the kitchen sink and she was still outside St Paul's basking in the Late afternoon London sunshine , but in a few words I too felt supported at a time of reflection and unhappiness.
That's the strength of the chain of friendship me thinks.
Each link supporting the next.
That's the power of friendship.
And that's what makes us human

For One Night Only


I forgot to blog today, and only just realised when I went on line to see what movies were playing in the local cinemas.
The weather is damp and its dark and miserable outside, and the woodburner has made the cottage all cosy, so instead of going out I am having a night off with weightwatchers and have planned an evening with some fatty nibbles , an energising face mask, a pair of fluffy slippers and a great South Korean zombie movie!

I'm easily pleased!


Cobwebs

 Cobwebs needed to be blown away today. And the view from the Gop was indeed lovely
Thinking of an old Sheffield friend this afternoon...with much love

Relationships With A Tom Cat


The Prof is away until Sunday. 
I am all alone till then.
Today I shall meet my Sister in Law for lunch as it's her birthday. Then I shall go and see the new Blade Runner movie.( even though I never really liked the original) 
If the weather improves the shrubs in the back garden need pruning and I've promised a neighbour to do a few errands.....errands that need physical effort and brute force

George is not himself and has been restless all night. He only settled when I took him to bed and allowed him to sleep with his head on the Prof's pillow. 
He's an old Scotty Dog now.
Albert is off colour too. He's vomited mice bits all over the Prof's office overnight and is now " resting" gently on our bed watching the bachelors as they fight for the top spot on the hen house roof in the Ukrainian Village
Uncharacteristically , Mary has been somewhat gentle and attentive and has sat meekly by his side as he recooperates. 
She licked the wax out of his ears for an age, a practice that seems to settled his stomach. and refused to leave him when I called her for a walk. 
Her loyalty has surprised me, as Albert main doggy relationship has always been with Winnie.
Winnie being the fat fickle diva that she is, is presently rubbing her fanny on the side of the living room bookcase.
Note to self: go and find the kitchen roll and some squirty cleaner

Quiet Desperation

Sad Lives Dimsdale as the thwarted Doctor Astrov

Who was it that said we all live our lives in quiet desperation ?
It was someone famous I am sure.....someone here will no doubt let me know the answer.
With the Prof away working all week, Me and a friend went to see Theatre Clwyd's production of Uncle Vanya last night.
It's been an absolute age since I've seen any Chekhov and last night's production did not disappoint even though the subject matter was rather melancholy.
Uncle Vanya portrays a dysfunctional family living a desperate life on a decaying country estate. Bitter, resentful and disappointed with lives not lived, the family bicker and spar as their hopes for a better life ebb and flow away.
Last night's production was set in the studio theatre, which means that the audience up front and personal  with the performers, so it was easy to see the quality of the acting on show. Rosie Sheehy as the tragic but valliant Sonya and Oliver Dimsdale as doctor Astrov being standouts in an excellent cast.


Cheats



Years ago now I had the opportunity to live in the pretty seaside town of Southport for half a year. I rented my little house in Sheffield to a Cliff Richard loving support worker and moved into a Victorian nurses home just out of town and enjoyed a salaried time completing a certificates in Spinal Injury Nursing and in teaching and assessing. 
I also got involved with a guy on another course who like me was away from his home city.
The only difference with him was that he went home at weekends and I stayed in Southport or went to see family or friends. 
Now I share this information because blog reader Andrea sent me a photo of this Pittsburgh rehabilitation centre that was one of several I visited whilst I was on this course at Southport. The connections made there led to some valuable nursing experience in and around the city of Pittsburgh, a city of great charm, I thought at the time 
Anyhow I digress -back to my new boyfriend whom I shall call James.
James was funny, handsome and unexpectedly swept me off my fairly inexperienced gay feet without too much trouble. I had only just come out so was flattered by all of the attention, so missed the fact that every weekend he went home! 
It transpired that he went home to his fiancé. 
When I eventually found this out, I finished our relationship immediately even though James was quite happy to keep things going and I remember being flabbergasted by the apparent ease of his cheating nature even on the eve of his own wedding! 
There are always people in this world that cheat. 
I am happy not to be one of them.

Tell me your cheating story!

A Normal Monday


I've just made a batch of  pea soup and a pot of meatballs smothered with a tomato sauce....all from scratch, this mindless act of basic cookery seems to be the highlight of the day
The low point  was getting stung on the stomach by a wasp in the dog food aisle of Tescos.
That hurt like a bastard!
It's weird because I've hardly seen a single wasp for a few years
Mary is in season, a fact which seems to have set Winnie's masturbatory juices going ten to the dozen.

She's been rubbing her fanny on the living room carpet like a professional porn star for the past fifty minutes
A pretty normal Monday





Community Spirit


The Trelawnyd Volunteer Corps

And the junior division 

The affable despot Jason brought his chain saw


In just one hour sixteen of us more or less cleared the village green 

A big thank you to all that helped out, a job well done, the lavender bordered path looks especially good

The Prof, Wendy and the little boy no one knew clearing the flower beds


Goodbye Christopher Robin


The charm of AA Milne's Winnie The Pooh has always been lost on me; as a child I was more a Beatrix Potter kind of gal, and so some of the rather " magic" nature of how Milne bonded with his son over a child's fantasy life of stuffed animals, a red letter moment which led to the publication of a franchise, was beyond me.
However Goodbye Christopher Robin is not just, as what I expect is a rather overblown story of how Pooh was written. It is a rather overblown story of just how poor little Christopher Robin survived a childhood, typical of so many 1920's children who had to cope with emotionally and physically distant parents who had battled through the horrors of WW1
Alan Milne ( Domhnall Gleeson) and his wife Daphne ( Margot Robbie) are not sympathetic characters. He is inconsistent and clearly uses the private moments with his son as fodder for fame,
whilst his wife is a brittle, but vivacious socialite who is quite capable of leaving husband and child
when it suits her but the audience sees them through modern eyes rather than from the perspective of the buttoned up upper classes of pre 1940 England and so it is very hard to identify and even understand them as the norm
Thank goodness for Kelly Mc Donald's emotionally warm Nanny Nou, for it is her arrival that saves the film from it's own dourness and gives it some heart. In the end I found myself more interested in her relationship with Christopher Robin ( Will Tilston) than the all too numerous , soft focus scenes when Milne , Christopher and a gaggle of stuffed toys " played" idyllically in the woods of rural Sussex..indeed.the moment where Nanny breaks down when she thinks the now adult Christopher Robin has died in battle ( a thing his parents were unable to do) literally broke my heart...and.only then did I realise that McDonald's character reminded me of my own grandmother, a person who provided me with all of the warmth and heart that was lacking in my own parenting.
6/10
Nanny Nou


Tiles

Give me a dying patient on a ventilator to look after!
It would be less stressful that discussing the right ceramic tile design for the kitchen with the Prof that's for sure!
In the end, after a somewhat lively time comparing one colour with another  , the Prof wandered off to the showroom exit with a wave of his hand and the words " YOU  pick!!!!!" 
it's been all too queeny! Very much like the judging from Strictly Come Dancing! 

I will leave you with a somewhat happier image
A rescued donkey " smiles" at his rescuers after being saved from a flooded river!
Have a peaceful weekend  readers


First Adventure


This beautiful photo was taken by my great niece Ellisha on a recent jaunt to Morocco. There is something rather ethereal about it I think.
Ellisha is an art student in London, and being slightly dippy certainly ticks the stereotype box of someone more grounded in colour and form and beauty rather than in the practicality of life.
Her and a friend hiked up the rural mountains of North Africa for instance without any cash for food or even sensible shoes.
The risk taking of youth eh?
The young people of today have a much global world in which to explore nowadays.
You even can track your kids on an mobile app , even if they are journeying the Amazon.
How fantastic is that

What was your first big adventure?

Mine was a first trip to London when I was 18. I went alone and somehow found a bed and breakfast before I went ( how did I do that without the internet?) I went to see Evita, ( which I hated) I walked everywhere because I was too scared to try the underground and my elder sister actually phoned the bed and breakfast's manager to see if I was ok on my first night in the big smoke!
Hardly a breathtaking new adventure, hardly rock' roll, but for a gauche Welsh teenager in 1980.
It was a big deal....

Like I said...what was your first big adventure?

Self Preservation

A dog fox trotted through the Ukrainian Village this afternoon. I saw him as I was gardening in the front garden. He circled Irene who was eating cheap white bread which was a gift from the neighbours. She stamped her feet angrily at him as he went by. 
In a shot the Bachelors appeared at the field gate, and within seconds they tottered noisily across the lane to the safety of the garden next door where they sat chattering on the low stone wall. 
It never fails to impress me just how clever peanut brained animals can be when self preservation is involved.


They stayed in the garden watching me prune the buddleia for an age, and two hours after they first arrived, I walked them back to the field, when the fox was long gone.

Boisterous Lesbians


The Prof didn't fly back until late last night, so I went to Theatre Clwyd to see Daisy Asquith's documentary Queerama. 
Queerama is a collage of fictional images, film clips, vintage television interviews and documentary snippets set to music. It sets out to portray the reality of gay life in Britain from the turn of the century but in my mind it failed, as the film seemed rather biased towards the negatives of the gay experience rather than the many, many positives. 
The film also seemed more concerned with the lesbian perspective, a fact that was perhaps reflected in the audience which comprised of three small groups of  women.
I was the only man in the cinema, sat in my usual seat D13!
One couple and a group of three were particularly animated and chatted throughout the first part of the film regardless of anyone. 
I got several hostile stares when I shushed them but the chatting did stop.
Some of scenes of the movie, especially the 1960s documentary scenes where a pompous lady consultant psychiatrist declared to camera that homosexuality was due to " damage in childhood" were particularly ironic.but without the balance of the positives of gay culture both from times gone by and from the past decade the whole movie fell a little flat to me.
I walked out before the film finished, and the lesbians who I had shushed muttered at me when I passed them. 
I'm sure they called me a homophobe!


If You Can't Beat Em.............


Foolishly I was drawn into a political conversation at 3.30am this morning.
I should have known better,as I hadn't even downed my first coffee of the day but my colleague, who is politically very active, pushed a button on a subject I feel passionately about.
My temper started to flare when I was told in no uncertain terms ( and rather patronisingly I thought) that I was wrong and that my colleague was right because he had read extensively on the matter.
Luckily for all I changed the subject before things got out of hand

My second upset of the day came when Albert followed our walk up the lane which necessitated me slowing down a speeding car in order for him to exit into the sheep field.
The driver wasn't best pleased with me and impatiently revved his engine as I stood there. Luckily Winnie was standing directly in front of the car like Buddha so he couldn't have pulled past me even if he had wanted to, so in the time it took Albert to reach the field pull in , I had already been called an " f€#king animal freak" by the driver , something I replied to with my best gay wave.

What's wrong with people ? I thought.
A statement I repeated to myself just a hour or so later when I bumped into a nurse friend of mine in the book row of Tescos. We chatted for an age before an untidy Irish woman yelled at both of us for being in her way" Get out of my way! " she snapped angrily  " look at you chatting up that girl and laughing! It's a bloody supermarket not a social club, you shop here not talk!" 
Obviously this had been brewing for a while, and me calling her " a crabby old cow" didn't really help matters greatly, although her surprise at the statement was some vindication for the spat.

As luck would have it I spied the same woman as I stood at the check out of Boots-The Chemist a half hour later. " I can't believe that you called me an old cow, you awful man!!!!" she started up again
I almost went for my usual " Cheap Shoes" put down , but the woman was wearing old lady booties so instead I replied with and equally loud "In fact  I called you a CRABBY old cow if you are going to quote me get it right" much to the surprise of the other women in the queue.

" I'm surrounded by idiots" I said to no one in particular when I handed over my dehumidifier tablets to be scanned

"Welcome to the world of retail" said the cashier wearily

Simple Gifts from An Appalachian Spring

Strange! 
Yesterday I was in Ikea, 
Today The Prof is in Sweden 
Go figure.

I listened to this piece of music today and I was surprised to hear it's title as I always though it was the childhood hymn Lord Of The Dance. The hymn was actually written in 1963 by Sydney Carter and the Aaron Copland piece is a version of an American Quaker Hymn not related to dancing.


Lord Of The Dance will be played at my funeral.
I used to sing it as a small child whilst skipping around untidily in a circle in front of my family.
Now they'd call it child abuse

Why?

Ok. I'm doing what millions of people seem to do on social media. I will show you a photo of my complementary cake and coffee at Ikea. My kitchen designer man is running late  ( hence the bribe) and I am already stressed at walking two miles around the store to find the right department.
The couple at the next table are having a fantastic row , he is saying to her " if you bring me here again I shall divorce You!" I SHOT HIM A supportive smile.
Hey ho

Pie Making and Paul Temple

What it should look like

It's the little things that perk you up me thinks.
Today was a case in point.
I've not felt like blogging for a few days ( hence the lazy posts) there has been nothing major to report, just little to write about.
Life gets like that sometimes.
This morning I am just about to make an Italian potato crust pie for lunch whilst listening to reruns of Paul Temple and the Gregory Affair on iplayer.  The Prof has been writing in his study since before dawn.
I have learnt an age ago that Academics often work better creatively in the early mornings.
I cannot speak before 6 am.
At 11 am as I was walking the dogs I spied a young boy of about ten on the village green. He was collecting dead wood from the shrubbery and was placing it into a waste bin. I realised that he thought that the volunteers that I had called for weeding duties was this week instead of next which was a shame
I had not seen him before but I thanked him for coming and promised him extra cake if he turned up next Sunday.
In this busy world , where no one has the time for volunteering , it was nice to see one little boy making an effort.
My " more rustic" pie