Iron Lady

There is a scene in the film The Iron Lady

where the Conservative party spin doctors give Maggie Thatcher's budding Prime Minister a style make over in order to boost her popularity amongst the electorate and her party. What they should have employed even then, was a budding actress called Meryl Steep, for it is her performance in this story of Lady Thatcher's Journey through dementia, that gives the former Prime Minister, substance, heart, a certain likability and indeed soul.
She would have made a cracking style guru!

It is clearly one of Streep's best performances to date.

The story outlines Thatcher's twilight years, where the fading Maggie is virtually under house arrest with only the ghost of husband Denis ( a fabulous Jim Broadbent) for company. Through flashbacks, the increasing confused Thatcher surveys her political career from its early days in her Grantham Grocers shop to her resignation from number 10, and in between we touch upon the Miner's strike, The Falklands Conflict and even Thatcher's famous waltz with President Reagan

However, for me, those parts of the film proved to be far less interesting than the film's real message, and that is the heartbreaking and dreadfully moving story of a woman dealing with grief and coping with dementia, and it is in this portrayal that Streep is so good. She gives her character a cunning, guile, balancing out Thatcher's vagueness with flashes of clever confabulation and steely resolve. (The scene when Thatcher outwits her patronising psychiatrist  is a real stand out)....it is a lovely,intelligent and impressive Oscar worthy performance

8/10

Off to work tonight.....
BTW I have placed Rooster Cogburn   in his own run with ( of all hens ) Vinegar Tits, who has been a bit under the weather recently....... when I last checked on them both were sharing a bowl of corn! ( cue smiles all round)

Everyone's so well behaved Nowadays

The weather is atrocious.

I managed my daily power walk with only two of the dogs this morning. Mabel, taking in one long somber look at the driving rain and ever-so-slowly crept back to her place on the kitchen sofa...not to be moved.

The cottage has felt damp and cold, thanks to the smell of damp dog and wet coats, so I have lit the fire early and have switched the lamps on in the living room to create the illusion that it is actually daylight outside.

The University lecturer that contacted me about the blind animal farm rooster, Frodo will be driving over from Shropshire to deliver him later today. I don't envy her the journey, it is a day to hide away in the dry warmth of indoors.

So, for a couple of hours this morning, I busied myself sorting through some old files and papers for burning and for throwing out. As I mooched through the rubbish I found an old report card of mine from when I was a student nurse at an old Psychiatric hospital back in the early 80s.

The assessment was a good one, generally all of my reports were,  for as a student, I was keen,conscientious and eager to please.

The report was filled in by an old lag of a charge nurse, who never once left his office in the whole eight week placement I had on his ward. He was in fact a knowledgeable and charming elderly Scotsman, who loved his whiskey more than he loved his wife and although his philosophy of psychiatric care was, shall we say, hardly cutting edge, he commanded a quiet respect from many long term patients who remembered him as a young man within the care system.

During the day, he would often disappear into locked bathroom at the back of the old ward to complete "paperwork", which, the patients would quietly explain away to me as his quality time with a home brew kit...

As a student, it never crossed my mind to report this old soak for such unprofessional behaviour, behaviour that would figure more on Fleet Street than in an nhs hospital

These characters do not exist anymore, I suspect even in the dark recesses of Fleet street . Badly behaved and colourful old dinosaurs that act badly and by the seat of their pants no longer have a place in industry and the workplace and it is not surprising that Policy development, whistle blowing, HR and performance reviews have all but culled them all off in this age of professionalism and technology.

I guess it is all for the best... but some of me kind of misses the mavericks and the Rooster Cogburn's of this world.....

Mind you......... I have just seem the Red Faced Welsh Farmer shoot past the cottage with a jaunty wave and I realise that in some very small pockets of this land Rooster Cogburn's still are very much alive and kicking

And speaking of characters Frodo has just arrived

and he is a bit of an old sweetie.........blind as a bat and tame as a lamb he sat comfortably on my lap after arriving as I gave him the obligatory health check and once over.

I know he's a lame duck....I know he has no use to me or the gate post... but some space in a small coop and a handful of food a day isn't too much to ask to give him a country retirement is it?

Frodo -Blind as a bat but full of personality... perhaps I should rename him Rooster Cogburn ?

Coincidence

This morning I remembered the oddest thing, a coincidence that really made me sit up and question how strangely things can turn out when you arn't "looking", so to speak.

In 1986, when I lived in York I briefly dated a general nurse called Fiona. Our relationship was basically platonic in nature, but it was all very intense and "serious" given the fact that at the time both of us were....well......very intense and serious people, she more than I , as I recall

Finlay

Of course both of us went our own ways in life, so you can probably imagine the surprise I felt  when I was driving through Crooksmoor , a scruffy suburb of Sheffield some 18 years later when I saw her pushing a pram down a tree lined avenue.

I stopped the car and got out with my dog on his lead, and we walked over to say hello.

It was lovely to see her again. Apparently she had worked as an alternative therapist all over the world, met her husband in Italy and had helped open a restaurant with him not two miles from where we lived in Hillsborough.

A small world eh?

On the spur of the moment we went for a coffee at a student cafe nearby and as we shared gossip, she showed me her son who was fast asleep in his pram.

"what's his name" I asked

"Finlay.." she said " but we all call him Fin"

I had to laugh a little......and I picked up the Welsh Terrier who was sat at my feet

"Meet my son", I told her

"What's his name? " Fiona asked

"Finlay" I said with a smile

Hippo Comment

 One of the better comments to my blog ( see previous entry)
Thanks Hippo

Pryvit

I Vladimir from Ukraine.

Why you compare small, small farm in tiny country with village in Ukraine? You been Ukraine? You ever come her, drink Slavutych (won gold medals, you won gold medals?) you seen Ukrainian chicken? You visit Ukrainian farm? We Ukraine, we say bad thing Wale farm? Why say bad thing Ukraine?

I spit on your chicken, Ptooh!!

You name place. I bring Ukrainian chicken, he kick shit out your chicken

Then I give Salvutych and we drink. In morning you stop nasty about Ukraine. Ukraine much bigger than Wale, Gregoriev say Wale men only Irish men who no swim. All Ukranian man swim, I show you when I bring chicken. When my chicken kill your chicken we swim Ireland, drink Irish Salvutych and swim back. Then I show you how build real house for chicken.

I read your blog, I think you nice man but stupid, You do work for woman, feed animal. You need Babushka. Mebbe I bring Babushka for you, no? She good. Beat her in morning she work hard and sleep with chicken when snow come and fry kovbasa in morning for you made from pigs you kill. All Ukrainian man like kill pig. If you no like kill, Babushka do it.

Do pobachennya
Vladimir
Kiev

There's Some sun In The Distance

The sun was shining yesterday and the village was galvanised into some sort of activity......today it is cold , damp and grey and the place is deserted and somewhat depressingly quiet.

Tom  over at "Tom Stephenson recalls",  has summed up this mid winter feeling so well, referring to it as the January Blues......for me, this time of year means just one thing----mud!; it means a constant battle with shitty paw prints on the kitchen floor and it means caked wellington boots and dirty, chillblained hands.

We all need a little hope in January don't we?

We need a glimpse of better things to come, some good news, some positive thinking.....

and at least here in our tiny corner of Wales, I think there are small islands of positivity to celebrate and to look forward to.

1. The Post Office makes a welcome return to the village in a month or two. 

Ok it will be only be set up on a Friday afternoon over at the village hall, and of course we still won't have the accompanying shop and newsagent services we used to have when Jenny the flamed haired post mistress fought her way through the reams of paperwork at the old Central Stores but it is a wonderful baby step at keeping the village functioning.

I looking forward in manufacturing a sudden need for  stamps and banking every Friday!

Historically the Post Office has moved sites at least 4 times over the years

2. A committee has just been formed up at the Crown Pub, to sort out some sort of Village Celebration to commemorate the Queen's Jubilee in June. I think this is a cracking idea, especially as I have decided not to hold my  "Open Allotment Day" until next year and I have already said that I am more than happy to help out with anything the committee comes up with.

In this age where people only seem to make the effort to look after themselves, any altruistic enterprise, in my mind should be celebrated, supported and encouraged.....

Now....where's my bunting?

Trelawnyd Coronation Carnival 1953

3. With the pigs' imminent departure, I have decided that 2012 will be the year that the allotment will go from strength to strength. The Ukrainian village will be having a full face lift and I aim to have a couple of milking goats this year.......milk, cheese, self sufficiency in veg and who knows.... more piglets in July perhaps......

and of course more waifs and strays will be turning up with gay abandon over the next few months.....

4. and I will be going to Choir practise this year.........losing Andrew underlines that old hackneyed saying...." life's too short"

And as the Two Ronnies used to say "and finally"
here is a blog header that will lift your spirits... it's a candid shot from http://lifeonthesmushieranch.blogspot.com/
Enjoy xxx

Moving Onwards

No 21 and the delightful no 12

Was it only Six Months ago since number 12 and Number 21 arrived at Bwthyn-y-Llan? It seems such an age ago now. Both have blossomed into two huge, fine looking pigs, each with a personality and attraction all of their own.......but I have always been mindful that both are now ready for bacon, for sausages and for chops.

I have just got off the phone with a rural butcher. A jovial Chap, full of Welsh chutzpah and good will, he gave me a whistle stop menu of pork cuts,explained the whole process of butchery from culling to table as it were and even offered to pick them up for me, which I have just now agreed to.

I am now just waiting for the phone call, telling me when it is all going to take place.

I feel ok and ever so slightly relieved that I have finally summoned the nerve to finally get the ball rolling, but I know I will find it just a little difficult to look no 21 in the eye a little later today....he's such a sweet natured fellow.........

I feel like a real farmer ( well just a little)

Barcelona 1992 Olympic Flame

I am getting excited about the Olympics...........we ( the family) are talking about going down to London to soak in the atmosphere of the closing ceremony ( no we have not got tickets)
I Just Hope the organisers take a leaf out of the Barcelona Olympics ( the most classy) and the Sydney Olympics ( The most Joyous!)
My Best friend Nuala and I went to the opening of the World Student Games at The Don Valley Stadium in Sheffield many years ago now.... I remember that Uk Astronaut Helen Shaman ran in with the "Games Flame" and bloody dropped it running up the steps to the cupola!
and...it was so embarrassing as THE BLOODY FLAME WENT OUT!!
The Sheffield crowd....( good natured as always) laughed it's bloody socks off!!!!!

5 Bags of Sugar

Weightwatchers weigh in today 15st 4 lbs 

Weight loss in the past week 6 lbs

Total weight loss in  2 weeks 10 lbs

Having suffered that bloody awful virus last week, I just knew that my weigh in this week would be fairly successful.......... So, I didn't need to employ all those pre weigh in tricks that we all employ just before dragging my sorry carcass onto the bathroom scales 

( by saying "tricks" I mean the forcing out of a big wee just before assessment time etc!!!)

Give me a couple more weeks and I just know I will stop farting with the force of the Queen Mary's Hooter when I bend over........Way to go Girlfriend

x

Ps will blog more "appropriately" a little later!

Noise

Sunday mornings in the country are not always peaceful. This is especially true in winter when the sounds of bird shoots echo constantly around the circle of hills that surround the village, giving one the sense of being a mile or two from the "front line" so to speak.

It has been like that this morning.

The village Church Bell strikes up at ten minutes to eleven and does not stop until the Rector arrives.........Robert is sometimes a little late, so the monotone "DING" of the bell can go on just a little, and it often sets the lurcher howling from the corner house which can be somewhat tiring.

I am on night shift tonight, so have retired to bed for a few hours. It is a necessary luxury as I will not have any sleep until tomorrow night now, and it is a luxury that I rather enjoy.....

Its just me in the bed.....no one else is allowed......the sheets are cool and the room is dark and even though I can still hear the occasional shriek of the geese as they bicker, the pillow over my head cushions most of the Sunday Morning soundtrack........

Sweet Dreams x