"I'll admit I may have seen better days, but I'm still not to be had for the price of a cocktail, "(Margo Channing)
Gina G - Ooh Ahh... Just A Little Bit Eurovision performance
A Hot Village & Greenberg
It has been hot, hot, hot today!
The village seemed deserted when I took the dogs on their walk this afternoon, but as I walked up High Street, I did spy Auntie Gladys (right pic- oh and just to let everyone know that Gladys is called "auntie" by everyone that knows her!) She was having a quiet sun snooze outside her house, which is one of the oldest in the village. At 90 she remains a stalwart on the flower show committee and single handedly has sold almost 300 raffle tickets!
I didn't wake her as she looked so relaxed, sitting there in the sun...I thought it was a lovely and awfully intimate scene of relaxation.
This afternoon we had a bit of a break and went to see the movie Greenberg at the Scala. As it turned out we were the only two people in the cinema on one of the hottest days of the year so far.....It was blissfully cool inside the cinema....pity the film was so bad.
Greenberg is Noah Baumbach's tale of modern Los Angeles and centres upon the realisation by a small group of friends that they are indeed "past their prime" now they have reached their forties . The central character is Roger Greenberg, a prickly 40 year old no hoper who after being discharged from a psychiatric hospital, is house sitting for his successful LA based Brother.Greenberg ( a dreadfully haggard and sad looking Ben Stiller) is a difficult character. He is overtly angry, emotionally unstable, and is a rather unlikable man who has not quite dealt with the hand that life has given him and amid this background of thinly veiled depression he meets his brother's PA, Florence.(Greta Gerwig). Florence is a similar personality but is young enough to make something out of herself, and the two start a fraught, unstable love affair, overseen by Roger's world weary but ultimately more stable old friend, Ivan ( a good performance by Welshman Rhys Ifans) I am sure Greenberg has a great deal to say about the awful shock it can be when you realise that you are middle aged. It also in its own Annie Hall (ish) way discusses disillusionment,the death of hope and broken dreams.....and does so quite sucessfully in a bleak and souless kind of way....however, in the end I lost interest in what the movie had to say, and this I put down to Stiller's character, who is so awfully unsympathetic that I couldn't bare watching him for another minute longer than the 107 minutes that the movie ran for.
5/10
ps Finally caught up with Nu on the phone this morning......she was in Harrogate going to a wedding....."Just thought of you Jonney!!!" she yelled....."I have just bought a fat bastard from Bettys".........I will tell you the story of all this tomorrow!!! It was lovely to catch up
pps. I spied the Fox tonight in next door's field!
Winnie and Jo
Forgive the "newsreel" feel of the video, but both goslings were rather rumbumbtious this morning. They remain a complete delight!
It looks like another very hot day!...I will be downing the diet cokes like mad......not just for hydration...I have been "peeing" along the field borders all yesterday....Human urine is supposed to be a good fox deterent!.......I have not been caught by anyone yet!!!
48 and still having teenage crushes
http://www.jon-richardson.co.uk/Shows/Aug10.html
Before & After
Anyhow I have just had time for a glass of wine, a brief blog and a bath and me and the dogs are off to bed...Chris is working away again.I bet he is happy to be away to a fox free zone
Poor George
It is a question I have been asking myself when observing George since Maddie died. Generally the little chap is quieter than normal, less bouncy, less confident and certainly less "verbal",however , I think it would be easy to push the "human" trait of grief forward as an explanation, after all the emotive scene of George alone on his walks, without his constant companion sniffing at the things he is sniffing at remains one that pulls at your heart strings.
Does George actually miss Maddie?......hummm... I really think that the question is irrelevant, as I believe George's behaviour is really a result of the imbalance within the pack dynamic. The Welsh terriers are and always have been a close pair of their own. They walk together, they play together and they joust together. George has never been an active part of that...ever.
Because of his size and slowness compared to the others he and Maddie by default would walk together on every walk; because of their ability to accept the poultry both Scotties would be allowed free range in the field, whereas the Welsh would always be tethered.
With Maddie dying, his position in the pack does have a certain sense of isolation about it.
Chris especially has also changed the balance of the pack by showing George a little more attention than usual. Now I know just how easy this is to do and it may help Chris grieve for Maddie but I think it causes more issues between the dog pack as a whole. George has always been lowest in the pecking order and both William (who is wonderfully good natured) and Meg will just not allow that fact to be changed.
I think we do need to get George a companion of his own, but getting the right one will be, well, a bit of a challenge......hey ho..
Remembering Ivy
Iris' comment tickled me. She remembered a post that I made ages ago about a somewhat wayward set of underpants
http://disasterfilm.blogspot.com/2009/06/underwear-embarrassment.html
This morning I remembered another embarrassing incident that happened to me almost 26 years ago now to the day!,
I was a student nurse in those days and worked in an old Chester asylum (they were asylums in those days!) . I was placed on a long stay ward, where most of the institutionalised patients had been there for most of their lives. The surroundings were austere and functional, but the patients in those final days of hospital based mental health care were well looked after and for the most part happy.
One day I was asked to take a long term schizophrenic patient called Ivy into Chester city centre for some shopping.
She was a neat, sweet looking elderly lady, who smoked constantly and spoke little, so I had no real worries taking her out. Like a grandson with his gran, we ambled arm in arm around the shops, had a coffee and bought Ivy her weekly "treat" to herself of cigarettes and sweets. Throughout the jaunt, Ivy remained polite and appropriate and seemed to be enjoying herself immensely.
Before we caught the bus back to the hospital, Ivy asked if we could have a browse around Browns of Chester ( the flagship department store) so we walked in to the busy cosmetic department .
Almost immediately a plastic looking sales woman came up to Ivy and with a perfume tester in hand asked "Would madam like to try some of this new fragrance?"
Ivy smiled broadly, she loved the attention of strangers
"Oh yes please!" she replied holding out her wrist to be sprayed
The saleswoman gave Ivy a "squirt" which Ivy inhaled with some relish
"That's lovely" Ivy said "what is it?"
The plastic saleswomen smiled, obviously hoping for a sale and said "Poison!"
There was a pause
I stiffened somewhat worried at Ivy's response....
Ivy nodded and sniffed her wrist again
"It is nice!" she said cheerfully
Then added sweetly
"I knew Adolf Hitler you know!!!!........he had a HUGE cock!"
Have a nice day everyone
it is powerful and thought provoking..I do hope that it is not just an urban myth
THE SITUATION
In Washington , DC , at a Metro Station, on a cold January morning in 2007, this man with a violin played six Bach pieces for about 45 minutes. During that time, approximately 2,000 people went through the station, most of them on their way to work. After about 3 minutes, a middle-aged man noticed that there was a musician playing. He slowed his pace and stopped for a few seconds, and then he hurried on to meet his schedule.
About 4 minutes later: the violinist received his first dollar. A woman threw money in the hat and, without stopping, continued to walk.
At 6 minutes: A young man leaned against the wall to listen to him, then looked at his watch and started to walk again.
At 10 minutes: A 3-year old boy stopped, but his mother tugged him along hurriedly. The kid stopped to look at the violinist again, but the mother pushed hard and the child continued to walk, turning his head the whole time. This action was repeated by several other children, but every parent - without exception - forced their children to move on quickly.
At 45 minutes: The musician played continuously. Only 6 people stopped and listened for a short while. About 20 gave money but continued to walk at their normal pace. The man collected a total of $32.
After 1 hour: He finished playing and silence took over. No one noticed and no one applauded. There was no recognition at all.
No one knew this, but the violinist was Joshua Bell, one of the greatest musicians in the world. He played one of the most intricate pieces ever written, with a violin worth $3.5 million dollars. Two days before, Joshua Bell sold-out a theater in Boston where the seats averaged $100 each to sit and listen to him play the same music.
This is a true story. Joshua Bell, playing incognito in the D.C. Metro Station, was organized by the Washington Post as part of a social experiment about perception, taste and people's priorities.
This experiment raised several questions:
*In a common-place environment, at an inappropriate hour, do we perceive beauty?
*If so, do we stop to appreciate it?
*Do we recognize talent in an unexpected context?
One possible conclusion reached from this experiment could be this:
If we do not have a moment to stop and listen to one of the best musicians in the world, playing some of the finest music ever written, with one of the most beautiful instruments ever made . . .
How many other things are we missing as we rush through life?
Welcome to Germany
"Circle my wagons"- What would Gregory Peck have done?
Most of my knowledge comes from the Internet, local farmers and a good imagination and love of film.....so it wont surprise anyone that I found myself remembering all of these siege movies where the likes of English Postmistress Mrs Frazer finished off the Nazi filth with an axe (Went the day well) or John Wayne repelling the Indians from the children filled church in Rio Grande.........hummm so just what would have the likes of Gregory Peck have done when faced with an murderous adversary with cunning and guile So....out I went at 6pm last night, with a 6 pack of diet coke and a large stick to watch over the flocks.
The whole experience was pretty and subtly stressful ! I parked myself in the centre of the field and for three hours constantly scanned the borders of the field as the mutton headed chickens constantly put themselves in harms way by wandering into the dark recesses of the stream and the hawthorn hedges. Occasionally I even had to curb the urge to yell over to them to return to the "safety" of the field centre....but did succumb to the odd bit of bribery when I "encouraged" the girls back into the fold with a hard bit of bagel !
Bird brain is not a phrase that I wrong I can tell you!
Anyhow, one by one the girls took themselves to bed and the night was drawn to a close without another casualty or another glimpse of Mr Fox.
I know the red faced welsh farmer would help me out if I needed a "hired gun", (and American readers my be interested to hear that the use of firearms is ruled with an iron glove by the authorities here in the UK)..but we will wait and see.....
A neighbour gave me some extra netting to plug the gaps in the pig fencing near the stream, which I did this morning, and all of the heavy greenery has been removed from the field borders. So the girls have more than a fighting chance to see any approaching predator.
I have also set up my solar powered radio on the top of the largest hen house roof, and have been tuned it to London Talk radio. I hope the sound of "chatter" might make the fox think I am around.
Remembering the 1960 movie Spartacus, I did have the urge to set up a a line of oil along the length of the fencing which I could set alight with a flaming touch thus providing a wall of fire between fox and hens.. but I suspect I was letting my imagination run away with myself when on the lonely vigil that is sentry duty!
Poor Chris....he came home last night to find me marching out of the house muttering "fu*king foxes!",, and just had time to ask "where's me tea?" before I was gone.......
( I did leave him a nice supper by the way!)
More of the same tonight
hey ho
Gosling bonding and fox watch commences
I cannot stress this enough, goslings are a real delight. They are affectionate and careful and when unsure of anything immediately adopt the bowed posture of the adult bird.
Every time I moved around the garden, they mirrored every movement and only seemed content when either sat on mylegs and lap or in the safe shade, underneath my arm.
The rest of the day ( apart from making fish cakes for Chris' supper and walking the dogs twice) I have been concentrating on Operation Fox Watch.
It has taken over 5 hours, but I have strimmed the whole of the bottom of the field of the untidy tussocks and 4 foot grass and nettles that would camouflage any attacking fox. I have plugged the holes in the hawthorn hedge with branches and thorn bushes and had a brief fantasy of planting land mines along the fox run by the stream. Tonight I will keep guard over the field from 7 pm. Anymore problems and it will be gun time!
The fox returns
I dropped the feed bowls I was carrying and ran over. The fox and hen disappeared into a large clump of nettles and I blundered into it after them. ( I was wearing shorts!!) and ALMOST caught the bloody thing before It shot through the hawthorn hedge.
I could see no sign of the hen, except several patches of white feathers, so I was convinced that the fox had nabbed one, but after a head count of the st Trinian group and the old hen house girls (the hens that live in the part of the field) all the poultry had been accounted for.
It took an age but I found the victim eventually. It was one of the St Trinian adolescent cockerels and apart from a few missing feathers he otherwise looked ok.
A fox attack in day time is rare.
This fox will be back.
Time to organise a gunman...
In the meantime I am off to treat my nettle stung legs!!!
Sunday Snaps,a letter, teen thugs and goose updates
and in the main constructive.