Fathers

My father in 1945

It's Father's Day here in the U.K.
So I thought I would let the readers do the leg work, seeing that if is often the case that they have the more interesting stories than I do.
My father died back in 1989, so time has kind of dulled my memory of him now. But he was a strong character within the family even though he wasn't a hands on dad like the sensitive  and 'present' ones we see today.
I have always had an aversion to men wearing jewellery. This slightly irrational dislike stems from childhood bathroom moments when my father would occasional encourage  me to wash my hands and face. His supervision would always take on a slightly exasperated air and when my fat little hands didn't move as quickly as he would like he would rub the soap over them brusquely, often catching his wedding and signet rings on my skin as he did so.
A small memory perhaps but one, on reflection , that left its mark.

So what are your small, or significant , painful or joyous memory of your father on this Father's Day?

Thank You

Several hours of good food,conversation,  wine, and two chatty girls competing with each other to tell the best ghost story. Thank you to the affable despot family for an evening of sweetness.

Film Fest

The tv is broken , which can only be a good thing.
So last night was a bit of a marathon of film waiting via laptop.
I sobbed at Fernanda Montenegro's performance in Central Station...thought that My Best Friend's Wedding looked ever so slightly dated and lost myself in How to train a dragon 

Today I am off to Chester with my sister in law then it's a barbecue with the affable despots .
No film watching today

Fernanda

Julia 

Watching

Winnie has been watching me from her corner of the couch.
Her piggy eyes look curious and a tad concerned....I've been watching the sob fest My Best Friend's Wedding
After an age she dragged herself up with a sigh and after hitting the floor heavily she ambled over to my arm chair and lifted her giant fat paws on my footstool in order to present her face to mine.
You can kiss me she indicated
And I hugged and kissed her giant gintrap mouth like a sad child would kiss his grandmother

Co-op Hillsborough

I once saw a woman in the co op in Hillsborough pay for a stranger's shopping.
I was at the back of the queue at the checkout and a rather shabby middle aged guy in front was searching and re searching  his pockets to pay for such basic tidbits as milk and bread and a tinned meat pie.
He looked pained and embarrassed
Quietly a youngish mother in front of me leaned forward and without fuss told the checkout girl to put the items on her bill.
I heard her say " it's ok .its ok"  to the shabby man, who looked as though he was about to cry
It was all over a minute later.
As she was packing her own shopping I caught her eye briefly  and smiled " That was very kind " 
I told her
" we all need a little kindness "  the woman answered before she and her children walked off...
I remember thinking just what a lovely lesion in life that woman had shared with her children that day at the checkout in Hillsborough's tired old co op

Paperwork and why falling in love is like owning a dog!

Nose to nipple
The kitchen table is a mess of paper and folders.
I'm getting to grips with jobs long overdue.
Winnie's pet insurance changed......tick!
The warranty on the wood burner and thermal store found.........tick!
William's inoculation record.........tick!
Sheep registration.....tick!
Guarantee on double glazing .....tick!

Of course the work gets sidelined for an odd hour.
You always find more interesting reading than an old electricity bill.
I found a box of papers this afternoon.
More shite to wade through.
Nursing assessments of my student days, my mother's obituary, a photograph of a consultant I used to work with wearing a sombrero! A one dollar bill! Various newspaper cuttings...
My first assignment for my film studies degree exploring the narrative structure of The Poseidon Adventure, postcards and lists of things to do.
The box was a snapshot of some thirty years
Tucked away in a moleskin notebook that was filled with lists and receipts was a hand written poem.
It wasn't my own work....god no......I'm not quite that fey
But it was a poem I liked
It was written by Taylor Mali

Despot Win

The youngest daughter of affable despots Jason and Claire swept the board at the Trelawnyd Primary School sports day today.
I loved the sound
A score of several dozen children screaming their heads off.
She's a delightful child btw

Useful

Have you ever bought yourself something useless?
Something sweet, something likeable something non utilitarian?
I think all of us very occasionally like to scratch that frivolous itch occasionally and although you may need some new underpants, need to pay your William's skin allergy medication bill and need to put money towards your nursing reregistration payment, the pleasure of buying an oversized garden outdoor chess set seemed the best course of action for the day

What " useless " thing have you treated yourself to recently?

A Rat In The Woodpile

Albert brought home a youngish rat this morning.
It managed to escape, into the woodpile, squeaking very very loudly as it did so.
Squeaking rodents are like illegal drugs to canines
That was well over two hours ago

Subsequently I've not needed to walk the dogs today.
The hot spell continues, so I've washed windows, cut the lawn, cooked a ham, made ice cream, dug out the valerian from the wall and cut back the honeysuckle.  I've weeded the front garden and cut roses, changed and washed bedding to dry in the afternoon warmth and oh and bleached the bog

And all four dogs were still at the woodpile digging for the rat when I had finished

Birth

No Comment Required

Several of you out there have picked up on a certain melancholy creeping into Going Gently recently. Perhaps it's been around for a few months now, as my husband and I have found ourselves at a crisis point which is in need of a resolution.
I'm not saying any more. It's a private matter and just for today I don't want any comments on this blog entry about it.
Perhaps I just wanted you to know it's a bit tough at the moment
Hey ho.

Cat Fud

I've just flung Albert licked cat food at a Lycra covered biker.
It's been the most exciting thing that's happened all day.
I'd made a chicken risotto and and was cleaning up when Albert walked up to me and swiped my legs wanting food.
Albert is always fed from a small enamel tin bowl on the kitchen window still ( the only place dog free) and when baby rabbits are growing up, he will demand his meat dinner several times a day.
He's a fussy cat and loves to lick every bit of gravy off his dinner leaving dry chucks of meat in the bowl. In hot weather the bowl can get quite high and so I've got into the habit of throwing the licked contents over the kitchen wall , and the lane beyond into the raised lawn of the old churchyard where two crows have got in the habit of waiting for their dinner.
Today I flung the cat food out over the flight path of a silent biker coming up the lane.
I apologised profusely without explaining exactly what I was doing ..