I dare you to watch this video of Mary abusing Winnie
And not have admiration for the never ending capacity of bulldogs to cope with
Adversity!
Emotionally Moved
What have you been moved by recently?
What has made your bottom lip wobble or the hairs on the back of your neck stand up to attention?
I can think of three things....all different......non linked......and in their own way...quite amazing.
The first was a moment in the Ballet Giselle.
We had gone to see the live cinematic showing of the Royal Ballet's latest production and as the " wilis " appeared ( the willis are ghosts of women spurned by their suitors) I was literlly blown away by the scalpel-like precision of the corps de ballet.
The 24 dancers looked quite simply........stunning....as they weaved eerily past each other, veiled and silent....it has been a long long time since I have seen something so beautiful.
The second thing was a seemingly "off the cuff" comment ; a confession and surprise sharing of something quite dreadful that, at the time, seemed to come so out of left field, the sentence was left hanging.
The time was not quite right to explore the subject of childhood abuse, but the matter-of-fact description stayed with me long after I had heard it, and it moved me more by it's casualness of delivery rather than the subject matter
I know I am being careful and vague in my description of this situation and of course there is a reason for that but I need to share that the whole thing bothered me so much, bcause I felt I had handled the situation rather badly.
Thank goodness for the buffer that is social media, for it allowed me to contact the person involved to say what I should and needed to have said at the time.
The final moment was a tiny moment of " still" in the maelstrom of cottage life.
It was at animal mealtime, which can be a bunfight at the best of times . Albert, Winnie, Mary and George are all food led creatures who all get rather excited at the sight of food bowl on table.
The subsequent hysteria of paws on floor and begging yaps can turn a calm Nun to drink, so the peace as stomachs are filling can sound quite .....quite..wonderful.
It was during this lull, that I went to find William with his own allergy free food in hand.
William is and always has been, a gentle dog when food is concerned. He never begs and never gets excited when tidbits abound.
I found him sitting quietly alone in bed and he suddenly looked every inch of his ten years. His left eye is now increasingly milky and opaque and has lost it's deep hazel colour it once had, his fox red coat now looks a little dull and faded and I've noted recently that he sleeps longer than he plays.
He suddenly looked very old indeed and that upset me
I sat down with him and removed some hidden shop bought chicken out of my pocket which perked him up somewhat and in the peace and quiet of a cottage filled with fat bellies , I slowly hand fed an old dog his dinner .
The 24 dancers looked quite simply........stunning....as they weaved eerily past each other, veiled and silent....it has been a long long time since I have seen something so beautiful.
The second thing was a seemingly "off the cuff" comment ; a confession and surprise sharing of something quite dreadful that, at the time, seemed to come so out of left field, the sentence was left hanging.
The time was not quite right to explore the subject of childhood abuse, but the matter-of-fact description stayed with me long after I had heard it, and it moved me more by it's casualness of delivery rather than the subject matter
I know I am being careful and vague in my description of this situation and of course there is a reason for that but I need to share that the whole thing bothered me so much, bcause I felt I had handled the situation rather badly.
Thank goodness for the buffer that is social media, for it allowed me to contact the person involved to say what I should and needed to have said at the time.
The final moment was a tiny moment of " still" in the maelstrom of cottage life.
It was at animal mealtime, which can be a bunfight at the best of times . Albert, Winnie, Mary and George are all food led creatures who all get rather excited at the sight of food bowl on table.
The subsequent hysteria of paws on floor and begging yaps can turn a calm Nun to drink, so the peace as stomachs are filling can sound quite .....quite..wonderful.
It was during this lull, that I went to find William with his own allergy free food in hand.
William is and always has been, a gentle dog when food is concerned. He never begs and never gets excited when tidbits abound.
I found him sitting quietly alone in bed and he suddenly looked every inch of his ten years. His left eye is now increasingly milky and opaque and has lost it's deep hazel colour it once had, his fox red coat now looks a little dull and faded and I've noted recently that he sleeps longer than he plays.
He suddenly looked very old indeed and that upset me
I sat down with him and removed some hidden shop bought chicken out of my pocket which perked him up somewhat and in the peace and quiet of a cottage filled with fat bellies , I slowly hand fed an old dog his dinner .
Going Gently Ten Years On
Going Gently has been going ten years.
For a decade now I have sat down for half an hour a day ( with my trusty American coffee cup) and have put down my thoughts, my news my ideas in a diary that has seen me through an existance that had changed drastically from work and life in an inner city Northern City.
Ten years ago the Prof was a Doctor. Finlay and Maddie were the cottage dogs and old Joan, who was going on twenty was the toothless household cat with some attitude.
I've been reading those old blogs today as I sat on the loo.
They were often brief, slightly boring and more factual blogs than today's more flowery versions of village life. But of course they would be...for I didn't really know anyone then.
I had my one and only follower in 2006 ( The Welsh Terrier Lover Cassie) and a daily blog readership of 100 pageviews yet, the daily ritual of putting my thoughts down on an internet 'safe place' became as important a job as going to work, feeding the dogs or hoovering up the cat hairs.
Going Gently has chronicled a pretty mundane and normal life. The little ups and downs, the petty gripes and the little victories just how I see them, could be anyone's story, for we all have our own loved ones that spark off the imagination like characters such as The Prof ( with his particular Roger Moore eyebrow) or Auntie Glad.......a grand old dame that I met a decade ago when she was only 86!
Going Gently has taught me to think about things just a little, to describe the mundane and pick out the interesting.
It has become as important to me as breathing.
So thank you, my friends for reading .And thank you for your support over the years......I re read my sadder blogs this morning. The blogs such as Andrew, My Co Pilot, The Last Mabel Post and Chasing Cars and the messages of support in the comment boxes still make me feel lifted and indeed valued.
Only other bloggers will understand this.
A decade of Going Gently !
Hey ho
For a decade now I have sat down for half an hour a day ( with my trusty American coffee cup) and have put down my thoughts, my news my ideas in a diary that has seen me through an existance that had changed drastically from work and life in an inner city Northern City.
Ten years ago the Prof was a Doctor. Finlay and Maddie were the cottage dogs and old Joan, who was going on twenty was the toothless household cat with some attitude.
I've been reading those old blogs today as I sat on the loo.
They were often brief, slightly boring and more factual blogs than today's more flowery versions of village life. But of course they would be...for I didn't really know anyone then.
I had my one and only follower in 2006 ( The Welsh Terrier Lover Cassie) and a daily blog readership of 100 pageviews yet, the daily ritual of putting my thoughts down on an internet 'safe place' became as important a job as going to work, feeding the dogs or hoovering up the cat hairs.
Going Gently has chronicled a pretty mundane and normal life. The little ups and downs, the petty gripes and the little victories just how I see them, could be anyone's story, for we all have our own loved ones that spark off the imagination like characters such as The Prof ( with his particular Roger Moore eyebrow) or Auntie Glad.......a grand old dame that I met a decade ago when she was only 86!
Going Gently has taught me to think about things just a little, to describe the mundane and pick out the interesting.
It has become as important to me as breathing.
So thank you, my friends for reading .And thank you for your support over the years......I re read my sadder blogs this morning. The blogs such as Andrew, My Co Pilot, The Last Mabel Post and Chasing Cars and the messages of support in the comment boxes still make me feel lifted and indeed valued.
Only other bloggers will understand this.
A decade of Going Gently !
Hey ho
Hear All About It.
Four out of five cottages lie empty on High Street
Village Elder Islwyn was out and about this morning.
He and his brother were out with their wheelbarrows doing jobs about the village.
Winnie and William saw them coming and both sat down in the lane, they knew a long chat was in order.
I like bumping into Islwyn, for there is no one in Trelawnyd with such a forensic grasp on local news.
He doesn't do the " Victoria Sponge" news , like the stuff I collect.....oh no...Islwyn has a firm grasp upon the " underbelly news" of Trelawnyd.
He told me about the recent break in robbery at the pub, the apparent disappearance of paving slabs from the Churchyard ( wheelbarrow marks in the grass! ) as well as other more juicy gossip snippets that are a little too personal to share here.
I told him that the village seemed quiet at the moment as many of the rented properties and those for sale are presently empty and he agreeed. I counted at least 16 cottages and houses within a three street radius of the village green.
Such is the slump in the housing market at the moment.
Anyhow our conversation was interupted by a phonecall to Islwyn's phone. Probably another intel source ringing in with some news! The dogs clambered to their feet and we left him to it.
The village was quiet save for some irate shouting coming from the house which formerly had the bin bagged windows.
Hey ho
The newly renovated houses next to the village hall...still empty
Trelawnyd from the East
The Walking Dead Ends
Team Rick is in trouble.
One out of eleven of our best loved characters has been killed tonight and we don't know who.
We know Rick and Carl are safe ( Negan eluded to this) so it's either Aaron, Eugene, Rosita,Maggie, Abe, Sasha, Glen, Daryl or Michonne who gets the bat to the head.
I won't dwell too long on all this, suffice to say the finale was much better than I was led to believe
And at least Carol makes it into next year........
Roll on series 7......
Mondays will be soooo bland from now on.
( just before it started, The Prof gave me a kiss on the lips, pulled my hoodie over my head and told me with a raised Roger Moore Eyebrow that I was a geek!
Goose Gone
Russell
There are times when I miss that old pirate The Red Faced Welsh Farmer
He was always cheerfully there when I needed support at the more unpalatable aspects of keeping animals.
He once left his tea warming under a plate on top of the aga when I needed someone to dispatch the sexually amorous Boris when he went off his feet ( for those that don't remember Boris was my first turkey who had stalker " issues" ) and when I needed a friend to teach me to cull a particularly aggressive drake in the duckhouse , he was there with a Long John Silver " arrrrhhhhhhhhh" and a murderous look in his eye!
Alas, he is no longer around to help a somewhat ineffectual wildfowl keeper.
Today I needed to cull an old gander. His name was Russell and he was totally off his feet and unable to walk. He was lame when he arrived several years ago now, and his arrival was a product of a conversation I had with two visitors to the new graveyard.
They had hoped I would agree to take him..........which was lucky as he was sat in the back of their car, strapped untidily into an old sports bag!
But now, the old guy has gone " light" and a totally disabled gander is not fair to keep, so I separated him from the girls and led them slowly away to the upper field to feed on cheap processed bread.
Russell was light and quiet as a hen when I lifted him up to walk to a secluded spot down by the old pig pen. It was sunny and bright this afternoon.
And as we went the three anxious female geese stretched their necks through the wire fencing and honked a loud and rather worried chorus as we disappeared from view.
The three female geese
Hey ho
Not much to say today, worked last night am working tonight too
Off to bed
Dreaming of Jurassic Dreams
A Quiet Case Of Abuse
Abuse in designer middle England, the Titcheners
The slow burn storyline of the domestic abuse between upper middle-class Rob Titchener and his emotionally fragile and rather bland wife Helen is presently weaving it's way to what seems like a dramatic climax in Radio 4 's The Archers.
For nearly a year we have heard Rob chip away at Helen's self esteem, whether it be a simple comment on the suitability of her dresses for the Hunt Ball or the more moustache curling assertion to her family that she is becoming more mentally unstable before the birth of her second baby.
The pattern of abuse is well known to many at it involves isolation from family and friends and the gradual dominance of all decision making within the home and although the "pulling of wool over the eyes" of Helen's usually astute and somewhat cloying family seems a step too far down an unbelievable narrative, the storyline has been, for The Archers, somewhat of an earnest and realistic portrayal of domestic abuse.
Timothy Watson, brings a cut glass whispering menace to the damaged Rob ( recently we have met his equally soft spoken and manipulative mother Ursula so we know were he gets it from) and although the usually self righteous and whinging Helen ( played by Louiza Patikas) is not my favourite character , her decent into silent victim has been such a boost to the soap which in recent times has become somewhat stale.
Wisely The Archers' scriptwriters have brought back the ever chipper Kirsty ( Annabelle Dowling ) who has seen through Rob from the start. This week she has provided Helen with some practical support in the guise of a mobile phone of her own ( with credit!) , the number of an abuse charity, and most importantly the idea to discuss things with Rob's first wife, Jess, who went through all the same behaviours, and escaped, this has proved to be a valuable lifeline for the haplass Helen and in the case of the meeting of the two Mrs Titcheners, a surprisingly moving piece of radio.
I Hate Puppies
I don't love puppies.....I never have.
Sure I like them...who wouldn't? But I don't love them....
Puppies are programmed to get on your tits!
The Prof knows this and the other night asked me if I loved Mary yet.
I think he kind of knew the answer as she was curled up, under my chin.....in the position Meg always assumed towards the end of the day.
Mary has lost much of her puppy silliness. She remains over active for sure, and is still mouthing at the other dogs and the odd cushion zip, but ever so slowly her personality has started to emerge.
She is bright and friendly with other people and other dogs and is astute enough to cuddle up to George without trying to grab his Australian bandanna. And unlike Meg there is not an ounce of bad temper in her. Mischief yes, bad temper..no.
This afternoon , I have not been feeling 100% , so sat in the warmth for a quiet half hour.
Within minutes Mary had joined me.....and we watched the rain together, my chin resting on the top of her head.
Hey ho
Subscribe to:
Comments (Atom)