Chatty Cathy

The stormy weather we have experienced over the past few days is gradually subsiding.
On the village website Mr Lancelot put on a post asking if anyone had seen his recycling bins. He lives on the side of the Gop and I suspect they have been blown clear across the fields.
You can tell it's been cold and rough as apart from a quick glimpse of Animal helper Pat crossing the road and the scene of Trendy Carol ( sporting a new Northside jacket) with her head down against the gales , the village has been deserted.
Oh I still see old Trevor every day and we have gotten the administration of his daily enoxoparin injections down to a fine art. My best time from ringing doorbell, walking into lounge checking syringe, giving subcutaneous drug, disposable of sharps in yellow hazard bin to walking out has been a magnificent fifteen seconds. Mind you Trevor was quick sticks on the opening of the old pyjama bottoms!

I cleaned the church the other day and I felt I was in the set of one of those dark Grand Guignol moves of the 1940s, with the wind howling around the gable ends as loud a pack of wolves.
I had to switch the lights on to calm myself down.
There was a folk concert in the Hall last night but I couldn't get myself into gear to go as I had promised myself.
Next time I will, but not a day after three night shifts.

This morning I feel much brighter and chatty ( hence this tit perky blog entry). The first job of the day is to plan the week as I have another cluster of night shifts over next weekend.
If I don't plan, I tend not to do......
And so I've booked badminton with GD, theatre in Chester with my sister ( only cheap seats ) two Sam shifts where I am mentoring new starters, lunch out with a friend, a cinema trip, some " business" meetings, a morning to act out an Obi Ben Kanobi moment with the new Flower Show Padawan AND I managed to snaffle the very last return ticket to see An Evening With Ian McKellen at Theatre Clwyd on Tuesday.....I will have to miss choir but I have already emailed my apologies to Jamie the 1940s moustached choir master Andy asked for some homework to do in the guise of the bass parts of Dorme Dorme via email....I can practice it in the car in Tesco's car park.
Jamie won't mind, Ian McKellen is a gay god of some stature!
Oh and the prizes for the winners of the postcard competition will be here next week. I ordered them an age ago but customer care is not what it used to be. The gifts will be posted on , but please winners can you remind me of your addresses....jgsheffield@hotmail.com

The dogs and I are now off to Colwyn Bay Promenade for a blow . Albert is sleeping off his home caught and decapitated meal of baby rabbit. The body had been thoughtfully left on the bathroom floor this morning.
I'll leave you with a look at a linocut I got recently...it's an early birthday gift to myself ...they are all the rage at the moment.
The simplicity of it pleases me.
It's titled Nature Table