In fear of Children
It is clear to me, that in this modern age, there is a generalised and insidious fear of children. Now of course what I actually mean is that there is a unspoken fear of other peoples' children in today's world of stranger danger and risk assessments.The new unwritten law is that Children, especially ones that you do not know have to be ignored in fear that anyone would think that ulterior motives are afoot!
It is a sad state of affairs.
I was only thinking about this a day or so ago. I was walking the dogs in the village as the school children were leaving the village school. One little boy of around 8 was walking back home alone ( gawd how many times does this happen any more?) Now I know him to say hello to as he and his parents have visited the allotment for eggs and I always have found him a bright little boy with an eager and enquiring mind. He called out a polite hello then asked where Maddie was. I stopped to tell him our sad news, but all the time I was chatting I felt uncomfortable that how this perfectly normal conversation may be viewed by say other parents or passing drivers. Would they see my behaviour as "inappropriate" especially as I was not a family friend or indeed a relative?.
This overwhelming "worry" of being seen in the wrong light does a disservice to children. It isolates them from normal interaction with adults and creates an imbalance as those adults that they don't know, literally do fear them.
In today's world Children are only brought up by parents. In my day adults generally were trusted to do the right thing by children. You had non biological aunts and uncles that you minded and trusted and the treat of stranger danger, although present, was never overwhelming and restrictive.
My elder sister was on holiday once, I think it was in Portugal, and she and numerous other people on the beach noticed a woman who was a little "lax" at caring for her small toddler. At times this child seemed cold and distressed, and despite the general consensus that this was not acceptable, the population of the beach seemed to be paralysed into any action. Again this unwritten rule that children must not be approached, frightened people into indecision.
In the end, my sister, who is a forceful character scooped the child up,warmed and consoled her and gave the mother a bit of a "talking to", but this directness and community action is sadly lacking in all areas of our lives.
Perhaps the pendulum will swing back to a more relaxed age. But I cannot see that happening.
I would like to think that the generic "we" will mean a more community "we" rather than this modern day nuclear family "we" that pervades everything nowadays
Smile
The images on the internet never fail to amuse me ( I found these in a two minute troll!......however the above family photo does worry me just a little...but hey ho
Pet hates
Well it starts today.Media hype; an excuse to drink to excess in cheap Wetherspoon pubs, the usual disappointment when England gets kicked out of the quarter finals and white van men from all over the country indulging in some pointless male bonding.......
Yeap the bloody world cup kicks off yet again.
Already those naff plastic Flags of St George can be heard rattling noisily on top of a huge selection of tatty vans and cars and although here in Wales, I think the numbers are thankfully lower than they would be in say Sheffield. my opinion of them and the competition itself remains pretty low.
The blue collar culture of football fanaticism is something that has always baffled me. I cannot think of anything worse than being trapped in a testosterone filled pub or front room with a hoard of loud drunks and a plasma screen tv.
I just don't do tribal
I cannot see the appeal.
My best friend Mike is a big footie fan, and the environment I have just described, he adores with a passion. I did go to a football match with him once over at Leppings Lane in Hillsborough, and found the die hard fans and crowds just a little intimidating....Having said this we did used to go the Ice hockey and basket ball matches in the early late 1990s and I yelled my support with the best of them.
What is it about football that turns me into Margot Ledbetter I wonder?
Who knows?....it is a question that I dont fancy thinking about at 7.15 am after an early morning dog walk.......in a couple of weeks time the whole World cup will be over ( probably earlier for the English team if past exploits have any indication) and those bloody awful cheapo flags will be consigned to land fill
The morning news is that Kitty one of the American turkeys has met her end hidden away in a far flung nest within the hawthorn bushes.Last night she went missing, and I suspected that she had taken herself off to a new nest in the hedgerows. Despite a long search there was no sign of her, so I was not surprised when Albert pointed out a large pile of brown feathers at the bottom of the field
we followed the feathers out through the badger run (the badgers have a clearly defined trail leading through the hedge and across the lane into the fields beyond) and what ever had taken Kitty had carried the heavy bird up and out of my field and away. Whether it was a fox or a badger who knows, but it is unfortunate that the stupid bird hid herself away.
A surprise trip to the vets and mother love
I was due to attend a study day at work that covered health and safety issues as well as a resuscitation update, but found out when I arrived at work ( all clean and tidy I have you all know) that half the day had been cancelled.
The dogs had gone to our neighbours for the day, and as I was all smart and human looking, I decided to take a drive and complete all those outstanding jobs that I had let slide.
I went up to the feed wholesalers to buy chick crumbs.The owner, Helen, seemed to be that surprised to see me so smart that she asked me if I was going to church or as she wryly added "court!"
I then delivered some posters advertising the village Flower Show as well as handing out others publicizing the allotment open on August the first and my next proposed "Chicken keeping for beginners course"
After that, I called at the stone masons to have Maddie's gravestone engraved, then on impulse I called into a local vet surgery to see what they had to offer the dogs and Albert.
The surgery I had picked is small and run by only one vet. The practice looked clean and tidy and the practice nurse, who looked remarkably like Nicole Kidman from Dead Calm , was all pert and friendly. Rather proudly, she informed me that she was a trained dog psychologist and we chatted at length about the recent spat between William and George, Of course I felt comfortable registering the dogs and Albert with her.....after all you don't meet a movie star every day.
When I left, I literally bumped into a woman coming through the gate and would you believe it. she was carrying an elderly black Scottie that was the spit of Maddie. The suddenness of the situation took me completely unawares and as I stopped to say "hello" my eyes promptly filled with tears. The woman was very kind, clearly she could see I was upset but kept the conversation light as she described her pet's eyesight problems and personality. Her bitch was called Lassie (of all things) and she was 11 and as I reached out to touch her head, the dog ducked away exactly the same as Maddie would have done. The experience wrenched my guts out
I cried all the way back to the hospital when I left them.
I guess it had to come.
Anyhow things are fine now. I completed my resuscitation study day (enrolling the course leader on my chicken course too) then came home to check on Lilly and Kate Winslet's new chicks.Compared with the hybrid mothers I have had, the two buffs are incredibly more protective over their babies. So much so, that I only just managed to snap a couple of "distant" shots of them all before the growling got all a bit much.
Chris is still in Canada and is due back on Saturday..it's been a long week without him aroundLawrence of my labia
Humm where shall I begin?Ok lets concentrate on the good bits:
1. Liza Minnelli's legs..which are fabulous and can still dance with the best of them (don't dare look at her mummified face though)
2. A funny and oh so non PC clip of a pair of bouncing boobies
3 A 3 minute , pithy and rather amusing interaction about motherhood between Miranda and a rapidly inebriated Charlotte.
...and that....I am afraid is it!
Sex and the City 2 centres it target neuroses away from the single girls' love and career lives and directly directs its designer attention to marriage, motherhood (avec nannies of course) and ageing.....it also unwisely centres most of the action away from New York, takes an ugly side swipe at the traditional Muslim lifestyle and embarrassingly ends up with the girls escaping the clutches of some irate Arabic men by wearing the hijab.
The movie is a bit of a mess .
Now this is a shame, for hidden away amid the dross, the sparkling fairytale that was the tv Sex and The City could just be seen lurking underneath the surface of this movie. SATC2 lacks its old charm! it also lacks Carrie's trademark squealing ( we only hear it once!), the razor sharp breakfast table banter and Miranda's hidden warmth.....and strangely enough it is left to Charlotte (Kristin Davis) to nab the best acting honours, when she has a breakdown when trying to hard to be the ideal Stepford wife.
.....at least all the girls looked their ages.....................SATC3?.......please set it back in New York, give it more pathos and pace,include steve,Magna and a pair of manola Blahniks and perhaps ( and only perhaps) I will give it one last chance
6/10
ps. this blog's title refers to Samantha's "best " line........... sigh
Pre dawn shenanigans
When I yelled at him (above the din of howling and barking) he dropped the rabbit, who promptly leaped off the cooker onto the floor.
The dogs went wild!
I booted George away first (he is the best ratter), slapped Meg out of the way and lunged for the baby as it tried to dive under the fridge. by some miracle I caught it!,(the dogs were beside themselves at this stage) and still in a rather unflattering pair of boxer shorts I took the little thing outside and placed it inside a wicker picnic hamper in the shed (with Lilly and her THREE chicks)
I know nothing about baby rabbits so checked the trusty old google to see what to do, below was something useful
"The baby rabbits leave the nest at approximately 3-4 weeks of age. If the rabbit is as big as a tennis ball (or fully fills your hand), then it is able to survive in the wild. If it fits within your hand or is obviously tiny and small or injured, then it needs to be re-nested or given to a wildlife rehabilitator as soon as possible. At 3-4 weeks of age, their instincts to survive in the wild are fully intact. They know how to camouflage themselves, what natural foods to eat, and what a predator is and how to behave around it. They automatically know to run away from a predator in a “broken path” pattern to make it difficult for a predator to catch them"
Armed with this knowledge I picked up the baby, ( still in boxers and t shirt) and walked over to the field where I let it go in my parsnip bed (there is a baby rabbit hole next to it) off he/she went down his burrow and the hysteria of the night was over
Our poor neighbours
I'm Spartacus
http://www.imdb.com/title/tt1442449/
Trelawnyd Male Voice Choir - The Rose (mpeg test 3+)
Tonight at around 9pm, I took the dogs for a walk to the Memorial Hall in the centre of the village, The Trelawnyd Male Voice Choir have their Choir practice every Tuesday evening, and it's wonderfully relaxing just standing outside the hall,listening to them singing their hearts out.
I so want to audition for the choir, but am crippled with the anxiety of not being good enough....another legacy from a pair of disinterested parents me thinks......
regrouping & more babies
Everyone has that special "something" that they can do to re centre themselves. A special treat that restores their Zen and balances the old yin and yang (!) , may be a relaxing bath, a quadruple whiskey....pneumatic sex...a long sleep......trashy food.......whatever it is, it is necessary to make sure you indulge in before you feel as though you are going slightly bonkers.
For me, it is always trip to the cinema, and because I was feeling ever so slightly maudlin today AND it was raining, I thought a trip to a movie would be appropriate.So what was on at the scala? The Prince of soddin Persia, Sex and the cruddy city 2 and the bag of laughs Bad Lieutenant.....ie bog all good.....so I had to resort to plan B and went to Llandudno (above) for a mooch around the book shops and a proper coffee.
If I cannot get into a movie, a proper coffee, and the smell of a bookshop is usually just enough to make me feel "normal" The coffee shop in Waterstones bookshop in Llandudno is of course one of those plastic chain cafes, but the coffee is passable, the service by the verbally challenge
d teenage staff is just this side of ok and the books always are on hand.
I treated myself to two cups of coffee and read a few chapters of Nevil Shute's Pied Piper (Thank you to my father-in-law for the birthday book token)....hummm I know I looked all Bohemian and pretentious, sat there with my coffee and a book....but for a hour or so I could pretend I was Carrie Bradshaw and was content with my short "urban" break.
Nevil Shute, is a very readable author. His stories are simply told and organised and although they seem rather old fashioned now, they are a cracking good read. Pied Piper is a kind of adventure story in the Inn of the Sixth Happiness vein. It concerns an elderly English gentleman who is caught in France at the start of the war. Before the fall of the country he continually finds himself entrusted with a succession of children and the novel chronicles their attempt to escape to Britain.I got home at 4pm more like my normal self and was just in time to catch a visitor to the Churchyard who pointed out some frenetic Magpie activity around the broody boxes. Lilly the buff was still firmly sat on her eggs, but was growling fiercely at the two magpies that were stood right outside her hutch door, obviously wanting to shift her from her nest. I took a quick look and there underneath her were two small black chicks. I have now moved the entire box into the shed, where mother and chicks will be safe. Kate Winslett and her single white chick, Constance seem to be doing well, safely in their closed coop.
Priscilla Ahn "Dream" (Lyrics)
Returning Mojo
and of course yesterday's shitty experiences have now passed into memory.....(er well almost!)
Jane, the slate turkey returned to the field briefly this morning to feed and drink. I was not swift enough to track her back to her secret nesting area, but at least she's still around.
Kate Winslett's single chick is doing ok. I bobbed her remaining unhatched eggs and all 5 were duds...so it's just Kate and her baby.
I don't usually name chicks but this single ball of fluff I have nicknamed Constance. I have done this because the name has been stuck in my mind for a few days now. I understand quite clearly why it has lodged there, Chris stated at some time he wanted another bitch to replace Maddie, and I have agreed but not until next year. I have already experienced just how a change in the dog's pecking order can cause mayhem, and I feel it is vital that we don't rush into anything that could upset the apple cart yet again....
Anyhow it has become a tradition that I name our pets. I hate fluffy bunny type names for dogs ,preferring ordinary down-to-earth ones, and dogs in particular need easily recognisable individual names that they can respond to. If we ever get another bitch then I would like to call her Constance or "conn-ie!!"
Today I remembered just why I like the name Constance. It stems from my childhood movie watching days, and in particular comes from the film The Three Musketeers (1948). June Allyson ( yes she of the deep gravelly lisping voice) played the virtuous Constance Bonacieux who was so unfairly killed by the bitch-face-from-hell ,Lady de Winter (Lana Turner). At around 8 years old or so, I remember thinking just how awful it was that Constance could die, and willed that Gene Kelly got to her in time before Milady stabbed her. It was a seminal moment in a movie going childs life, and in retrospect probably taught me a great deal about the unfairness of death.(as well as teaching me to deal with a bit of a hero crush on Van Heflin who played Athos)
Hummm...on further reflection I probably wanted to BE Constance just a little....she was so sweet and likable but was bound to be a bit of a victim in that Judy Garland type mode.........hey I was sooo gay....even then....and even at eight!
ps
A shitty kind of day
It has been an amalgamation of factors that has led to all this...all of them pretty insignificant in themselves..but when you add them all together! It's a big soddin hey ho!
1. Blanche squashing all of her chicks flat on her nest
2. After my sister and I weeded the largest of the vegetable beds: a raiding party of Indian runner ducks have stripped the hearts out of everyone of my little gem lettuces
3. After collecting the eggs, I left the bowl full of them on the field wall. When I remembered what I had done, someone had removed all of the hens eggs (the duck eggs were thoughtfully left!)
4. Two of the bourbon red turkeys went walkabout from their enclosure and had to be chased back up the lane, halting a somewhat irritated farm worker in a large tractor
5. Albert has beheaded another sparrow, thoughtfully in the centre of newly laundered duvet cover
and number 6:The dogs had a mega fight in the living room! I suppose my guess that the canine pecking order had not been affected by Maddie's death was wrong, as out of the blue William suddenly and without any warning attacked George. I must have overlooked the possible reason for it, but when I got to them, both dogs were locked tightly together growling loudly. Meg hearing the ruckus galloped down the stairs and joined in the attack on poor George, and despite being soundly slapped with an enamel jug ( the only thing that came to hand) I couldn't separate them.
After an age, and several blood splatters on the carpet. I ran into the kitchen, emptied the washing up bowl of dishes and hit all three dogs with over a gallon of cold soapy water, which distracted them all for a split second , which was long enough for me to reach down and drag George to safety.
Apart from a few puncture wounds, no one was seriously hurt, however the living room looked as though an elephant had run amok all over the place! George stalked outside for a sulk (above) and the Welsh settled down as if nothing had happened...perhaps they have been unsettled with Maddie dying....after all her presence always seemed to be the steadying influence within the pack. The fight has upset me greatly
To make it up to George I have just taken him for a drive to the village shop where I treated him to a pack of pre cooked turkey slices...... well it me feel a little better!
Yorkshire Accents
The other day , three of Chris' old colleagues called round for a visit. The three of them (all hailing from the South Yorkshire area) had gone to Llandudno for a couple of days rest and relaxation, so when they came, I did the usual allotment tour, presents of duck eggs and tea and cake.
The "girls" all possessed varying thicknesses of the South Yorkshire accent, and I found myself "enjoying" their speech patterns as those flat vowels bantered back and forth.
Accents fascinate me. Physically Britain is such a tiny area, but the number of different accents and dialects that you can pick out is absolutely phenomenal.
Anyhow I mention this only because one of the visiting girls made a point of commenting just how "welsh" I had become. She had met me a few times when I lived in Sheffield, and presumed that I was a "posh Yorkshireman"...now she couldn't get over the fact that I had reverted to my native drawl.
I couldn't bare it. Now if I had the true pure North Wales accent, I could cope with the observation, but I suspect that I now possess that mongrel Liverpudlian and Welsh hybrid accent that I hate. When I have time I will do another video talk over, and you and all figure it out for yourselves.(I am sure my friend Nigel will have something to say on this subject)
The video gives those "non Yorkshire" readers a brief snippet of the wonderful Sheffield accent....Russel Crowe note.....this is what you should have sounded like in the movie Robin Hood
I feel rather chesty today as my twice yearly bout of bronchitis has arrived but will soldier on, checked on Blanche early this morning and found all her newly hatched chicks dead and flat in the nest. Chickens can be thick as mince sometimes.