John Wynne and Graham The Sheep

Chapel house or ty wynne ( Wynne House) where the remains of John Wynne are buried

According to Bangor Professor Robert Jenkins the industrial pioneer John Wynne (1650-1714) was instrumental in the development of Trelawnyd , formally known as Newmarket. He had a vision of developing the hamlet into a market town proper. He built houses, established a weekly market and established the Nonconformist chapel in 1701 as well as building a grammar school at "plas yn dre".
His wish to develop Newmarket into a large market town ultimately came to nothing, but Wynne was responsible for the village's growth and its population did top over 600 residents.
John Wynne died n 1714 and his remains was buried against the wall of the Chapel which still exists in Chapel street.
Now all this gives a little background to the "ghostly" goings on at Ty Wynne, which is the house situated right next door to the chapel and John Wynne's burial place. The present owner always thought that their house was haunted by a strong male character. Indeed the lady of the house always made a point of saying "goodnight" to the ghost before she went to bed. They always presumed that the "ghost" was that of John Wynne
In the early 1970s Ty Wynne featured in a somewhat creepy tale. Local small holder Graham “ the sheep”Jones was just leaving the memorial hall one wintry and rainy night.. He had been playing snooker and as he got on his bicycle he saw a figure of a man standing in the gateway of Ty Wynne.
The man was wearing an old fashioned long coat and hat, and seemed to acknowledge Graham before he cycled for home.
Literally a minute later Graham approached his home along London road and was astonished and frightened to see the same man standing alone outside his own home!
Graham wisely stopped and returned for the morale support from his friends back in the hall and by the time he returned mob handed the "man" had vanished
Could the figure be that of Trelawnyd's founder John Wynne?
Who knows?

This tale of Trelawnyd has a bittersweet taste as Graham died over the weekend

Easter Sunday

 The village has been battered by storm Dave. 

Dramatically so. 

The journey to Llandudno along the A55 to night shift felt somewhat fraught.

And the wind roared over west shore, like a freight train.

It’s still roaring now and it’s just past midnight.

When I left for work I found a bag tied to the front door knob.

The bag was decorated with Easter chicks and eggs and in it was a small Easter egg and these

A Cd and book of Under Milk Wood. 

Another day, another kindness.

Its now Easter Sunday, traditionally an awfully dire memory of childhood , which centred upon chocolate ( I’m not a fan) Overlong Biblical films starting Jeffrey Hunter and bored parents.

And a light note to end with

Sometimes I stream on a site for mature gay men. It’s fun because I can hold court and discuss things such as film, the walking dead, life and the universe. The site is moderated and policed by friends who stop the riff raff and the occasional rude or suggestive comment and it’s often interesting to have a couple of hundred people from all over the world sharing their thoughts. 

This weekend I was discussing scary experiences, when a bloke from Portugal shared with a photograph that was somewhat bizarre. 

I won’t go into details but it caught me so unaware that I burst into uncontrollable hysterical laughter. A real belly laugh that stopped most people short and which created a wave of laughing amid the group. 

Matt a good friend from Denmark took a screen shot of me with the caption you are killing me today John

I laughed till I cried…..brilliant therapy for a boring Easter weekend

Felt Sorry For

 

When you are single and sixty something it seems inevitable  that some people will feel sorry for you. 

I think it more often than not happens to women on their own in hotel restaurants but I’ve had my fair share of “ Are you alright? Are you looking after yourself properly?” Moments over the years!

My elder sister Ann has me over for supper once a week now, and I’m grateful for this gesture of good food and company. 

Having a meal made for you, when you are used to cook your own meals is a treat, I can tell you. Why do you think I love going out for brunch and lunch with friends, the treat is palpable ! 

I work with a lovely support worker called Diane, she is single and my age, and every time we work together she will surprise me with “spare chicken salad” in the staff fridge or a comment “ I’ve brought some good coffee in” 

She spoils me and I’m grateful for it.

She doesn’t feel sorry for me….well perhaps she does just a little, but I don’t want to think about that

A villager texted me yesterday saying that they were looking out for me at the funeral. 

Another kindness certainly .

When I’m out alone, I still take with me my armour

My phone, an iPad, a book or all three,

They protect me from being felt sorry for 

I hate the thought of it 

Stopped By The King

 I went to a friend’s funeral today. She lived in the village.

But as I was driving at the top of St Asaph towards the crematorium, I got gridlocked.

The King and Queen were in town.

They are celebrating Maundy Thursday at the Cathedral.

Luckily I was able to watch the funeral service online then got out and walked up towards the Cathedral just in time to see the King walk across the road to say hello to the crowd. 

He’s like his mother not very big. 

I came home eventually free of the police’s road closures and noticed some magnificent bunches of grape hyacinth on Ann Hindles’ wall

I had a scotch egg for tea

Bloody lovely

And Life goes on…..the Trelawnyd Go Green group prepared the ground around the village hall for compost beds and poppy flowers this afternoon. I bought a few packets of giant poppies this afternoon as a minor support 

The Other Bennett Sister

 Spoiler Alert

Oh lord I loved this on binge watch , the story of bookish, maybe slightly autistic Mary Bennett ( Ella Bruccoleri) and her journey away from the control of an abusive mother ( Ruth Jones on nasty form) to self realisation

Hils ( Lucy Briers)

So Mary’s very different view of Regency life comes to the fore here. She sees the good in Mr Collins and she massages the change for good in Miss Bingley but her love for Tom Hayward is very deep and their final connection is incredibly moving and real 

I loved her relationship with Mrs Gardener ( Indira Varma) her aunt and true supporter and Hils her mother’s housekeeper who delighted in eating Mary’s wedding cake in the final sequence) 

A clever reinvention of a new story ….we all love Mary xx

We all are Mary 

 

 

Project Hail Mary

 

Project Hail Mary is a children’s film for adults. To save the planet lonely science teacher Rylan Grace ( Ryan Gosling) joins the Earth’s nations scientists to find a cure for an infection attacking the sun. In a disastrous space journey he teams up with a spider like alien looking for a similar cure and the pair become friends in their joint quest. 

We have seen this all before

Think Robinson Crusoe, ET, and Lost In Space, but the humour led by Gosling is infectious and charming , the sentimentality just enough for tears and the icy  scientific Governmental leader led by the enigmatic Sandra Hüller ( below) is a perfect foil for Gosling’s chaotic hero. 

I liked it. 

A bit too long

And with more holes in the plot than a block of Swiss cheese,

This is a film that celebrates friendship and good in all men 

Oh and in aliens 

Eight Years

 

It’s exactly eight years since my ex husband told me he wanted to sleep with younger men.

It was in the kitchen of the cottage and his mother, who was visiting was crying quietly in the spare bedroom.

In order to tell me the news, he had to be angry and that anger had found its mark with her as well as with me.

I could feel my world crumbling in on itself, but I still tried to people please. 

I made tea, and placated her by telling her it was me that was the problem and not anything she had done.

Immediately I realised that my marriage and relationship was over even though it limped along like a three legged pony for a few more weeks, 

All this was out of the blue. 

Many people don’t believe that, and to be honest there were clues along the way, but it was unfair in its suddenness, and devastating in its effects. 

That’s why I had problems processing it all.

Now eight years on, I can’t really recall his voice. 

For the past three years I have forgotten our wedding anniversary date

I don’t think about something about him every day as I used to

I don’t cry when I remember the hurt

My grief has approached the glitter stage…

I like the analogy of grief as glitter

To begin with it’s everywhere. 

It’s irritatingly lurking in every nook and cranny, like when a child upends a tube of glitter onto a piece of paper decorated with glue

The glitter grief is all consuming and covers everything

But in time, the grief glitter is hoovered away, ok traces of it are maintained on the letters as a constant reminder of our loss, but as the glitter picture sits on the outside of the fridge, wear and tear and life rubs the design bare and clear and dull.

Years later the glitter grief may be just a few sparkles, left in an envelope, or in a corner of a carpeted room, and it serves to gently remind us of things past.

If you are lucky looking at it doesn’t hurt anymore

It’s just glitter, after all

British Summer Time

 Don’t you just love British Summer Time 

The only perk that Night Staff have this weekend…..

What fun

This was my happy face after a 10.5 hours shift rather than an 11.5 hour one