Tired

I'm tired
Even though my mother in law is the easiest visitor ..
It's hard work keeping everyone at home happy , healthy , fed and sorted
Last night we went out to Bryan Williams @  Porth Erias for dinner
It was lovely... but I was driving ....I could have done with two more white wines

Who would play you in the movie of your life?

Who would you like to play you in the movie? ( I know it's a lazy post but I have to look after my MIL
Me?
Jack Black as a young man...Russell Crowe now
YOU?

The Sewing Tin

The Prof and his mom have gone shopping.
Like Cinderella I have stayed home and swept out the smoking wood burner.


I've got the better deal , I am not a fan of clothes shopping.
I cleaned the cottage and mopped floors before enjoying a detailed shave and several luxurious minutes stealing the Prof's expensive moisturiser.
My face now looks ( and feels) like a pink baby's arse!
I tried on some clean trousers for tonight's meal out and pinged off a waist button after bending over to dig shoes out from under my side of the bed.
The button nearly hit Albert who was sitting in the bedroom window watching baby rabbits.
He wasn't fussed.
I knew where the sewing tin is....it's on the second shift of the bookcase , perched neatly on my illustrated copy of Watership Down which in turn is sat on the box with our paper treasures in it.
Months ago I found the tin out after The Prof had used it.
It's a colourful tin covered in chickens.
Most homes have a sewing tin don't they?
A depository for cotton reels and needles, buttons and a much needed pair of sharp scissors. There's half a measuring tape in there and safety pins which are never used.
Mini sewing kits found in Christmas crackers and in business hotel bedrooms lie scattered on top.
A sewing tin means real life ....normality....a childhood remembered......a shared practicality only two people know of.
I haven't sewed a button on to anything for an age. It's not hard but it is a simple skill my grandmother encouraged me to learn
" watch your fingers when you push the needle though" she's say.
Forty six years later, I still have fat, clumsy fingers
But it was nice to sit in the quiet ......sewing
With a face as smooth as a baby's arse.

Tomorrow Belongs..........

Best Son In Law EVER!!!

.......I'm gay!

Right....Here is a brief lesson to all of those readers who want to impress their mother in law on one of her infrequent visits.
These are all achievable and easy to complete

1. prepare her room with care. Lovely handmade patchwork quilt on lovely clean bed.
2. Fresh Flowers on desk and place own bedroom mirror onto her desk to act as a make up mirror
3. Clean towels set out with slippers
4. Gossip magazine left on pillow
5. Small set of Easter bunnies as bedside gift ( she doesn't eat Easter eggs)

Simples! ......all a bit gay...but it bloody works!

The Attraction Of The Working Man

I had visitors yesterday.
One sharply dressed saleswoman in fantastic shoes and one man in a boiler suit.
Both arrived together in the middle of a torrential rainstorm.
When such visitors arrive, the bouncy terriers are placed safely away in the car. Only Winnie is allowed to stay.
Her blind affection for dirty handed blue collar chaps is legendary.
The boiler suited workman was installing superfast broadband in the living room and as usual I asked his permission if Winnie could accompany him. Once this was agreed upon she thundered in like a baby hippo and gave him a careful once over.
Now Winnie's "once overs" follow a strict procedure. First she will give the visitor an in depth face stare. this usually lasts around ten seconds or so and is invariably followed by a physical head rub on an outstretched hand. Once the ice is broken  overalls, combat pockets and any tools have to be sniffed at and explored before  demands for more head rubs and hopefully full on kisses follow
she prefers being kissed on the lips when kissing is the order of the day
Julia Roberts out of Pretty Woman she is not!.
Once all of these stages have been reached, the workman will then be followed blindly. Every movement and activity being closely scrutinised, ideally with little piggy eyes only inches away from the job in hand.
this can be disconcerting for those of a weaker constitution
The broadband man had to return to his van a couple of times for materials and every time Winnie would accompany him in her usual laissez-faire amble.
She never gets bored with proceedings.
A half hour into the visit, she even shared some of his Cornish pasty when he disappeared for a crafty coffee break.
"She's a grand old dog!" the  broadband workman said as he left " I've never been supervised so much since I was an apprentice"
Winnie then jumped up against the workman and demanded a kiss with a loud grunt
Your breath stinks" he told her
and she smiled at him with unchecked adoration

Moved or Manipulated

What is the last thing that moved you to tears?
Many things can set me off
I've inherited this sentimental streak from my father
This set me off today

Birthday Gal

It's my mother in law's birthday today.
She's having a day surrounded by friends and family.
She is well liked and well loved
It's a product of being a nice person.

"Do Not Send us Astray"- The Walking Dead ep13

Slumber party gone wrong

The worst part of episode was when my favourite redshirt Tobin ( Jason Douglas)killed the sassy foul mouthed doctor from Kingdom, she..( Peggy Sheffield) would have made an interesting  new character.. It was a great moment of complete mayhem when the injured Hilltoppers succumbed  to their infected injuries and ran amok amongst the sleeping survivors..it was just like old days!
Ok ok it was a rehash of the prison flu episode, but I didn't much care.
It was back to the Walking Dead of old.
The Hilltop fended off the saviours but at a price. Henry and Morgan played silly beggars. Pretty
New Yorker saviour Alden switched sides to the good guys ( a new eventual Maggie love interest 
perhaps?) and Tara realised that Dwight May have saved her life.
This episode was set at a cracking pace.......8/10
Loved it

Tobin, not at his best

Operation Dog Snot Removal

Spring Cleaning!

Epic music blasting out

Too much strong coffee causing slight jitters

Dogs safely in the garden ( with Albert)

Living room furniture on the window ledges and outside the back door 

Coal dust, soot, dust and dog hair sucked from every nook cranny and orifice 

Throws, blankets and patchworks all hand washed and are hanging from the field gate in the lane.

It looks like we have had a flood.

A neighbour passed and waved

" I see your mother in law is about to visit !" They noted.

Bookends and Staffordshire bits drying on the draining board

Almost Easter

"Beejesus we're blessed are we not?"
So called out the hefty Irish horsewoman on even a heftier horse this morning as the sun shined and the skies around Trelawnyd remained a bright comforting blue.
I passed the woman on the road climbing the Gop we nodded in a friendly manner as we have passed each other several times before. She has a brusque warmth that I like

Everything seems a bit brighter this morning.
The Church was gridlocked with cars and I could just  hear the singing of a hymn as Trendy Carol's dogs bark at a passing mongrel.
It's a big gig today for the vicar
We are having lentil and pepper soup for lunch.

Violence On Stage

I've not had time to blog today
I've not had time to bathe Mary smelly fanny ( mother in law coming to stay in days and " Operation Dog Snot Removal" has not been initiated as yet!)
I've not had time to fix Mrs H's tablet as promised.
I've just not had time.

I treated the Prof to tickets to see the old chestnut that is Noel Coward's Private Lives at Theatre Clwyd tonight. It was fine, sparkling Coward in fact , but the climactic slap fest between Amanda ( a great Helen Keeley by the way) and husband Elyot seemed just a tiny bit uncomfortable for a modern audience to laugh at without reservation.

I think we are still programmed to react to physical violence when we see it in the flesh so to speak. Satatized violence ( on screen and tv) can feel cartoonish and unreal to most of us ( except the gentle natured blogger Raymondo perhaps) but a stage sock in the mouth can feel very real , even though it's played for laughs on a theatre stage.

It's just a thought at the end of a busy day.
Thank goodness we didn't go to see who's afraid of Virginia Woolf?

Shuttlecocks

I played badminton with the Prof tonight.
And despite wearing my Rosie O' Donnall sweatpants ( a necessity to hide my spotty knees). A bout of tennis elbow, residual bladder instability and flatulence
I won!
Figure that one out Sherlock.
There's life in the old dog yet! 

The Best Bit....

.........of today?.......

Sitting in the living room armchair in the afternoon sun with a sleeping Mary....waiting for the broadband hub to be delivered

A bit of lightness

Sundays

The Gray family circa 1963 , Andrew is on the far left , I am the baby on my father's knee far right

I met my sister in law for lunch today.
It's a habit we've got into since my brother died
I can't believe it will be seven years this December.
I can't quite remember just how the subject arose, but over a pulled pork pannini ( try saying that when you're pissed!) she mentioned that my brother hated Sundays with a vengeance.
She also admitted that she never quite knew just why.
I knew why.
Sundays were rather hateful, wasted days growing up.
They were filled with parent lie ins ( and hangovers) over cooked roast dinners, long boring sits in front of crappy tv and cold Sunday tea times listening to song something simple.
A Sunday drive out was unheard of. I don't remember picnics or walks out ( except the ones with my elder sister), there were no seaside jaunts, Church visits or zoo trips.
Pre lunch my father would retire to the fraternity that was the local Conservative club while my mother boiled the fuck out of mashed carrots and we children were happy that he brought home the Sunday treat of a block of Neapolitan ice cream.
My sister in law probably still cannot quite understand my brother's hatred of Sundays.
Her childhood was very different to our own.
I understood it, perfectly

Have you ever hated a day?

Ngā mihi Māhāna

I have returned to blogging earlier than I thought
And I have some kind words from a Maori follower to thank for it!
They reminded me of the kindness of bloggin and bloggers
Kindness that was added to by the majority of comments of the last two blogs.
Hamitana, you are a star

"I hug with my Maori Soul; I smile with my Maori Heart; I laugh with my tummy; I think with my Hands; I speak with my Eyes; I listens with my Maori Mind and, abundantly Love with my Everything"

A Heart Again

I painted the bathroom all yesterday and the day before
Baby blue with white trim
I never left the house unless it was paint or dog related.
I feel back to normal today.
The shitty time has passed.

At 8 pm on Monday night  Mary and I ambled through an icy Trelawnyd
The village was dark and closed
All except for Auntie Glad's old house which was a beacon of bright light.
Light that shone across the green .

The new owners were scraping old wallpaper from the walls
I met the husband over the weekend, when he spied me with the pack.
" You're John aren't you?" , he said extending his hand " The dogs gave you away"
The new owners are teachers and want to engage...I told them the house used to be an old school.
They are nice people.

It was cold on Monday night ,so we didn't linger. Mary peed quickly due to the icy grass
And as we turned for home we heard the musical tinkle of Children's laughter from Gladys' front room.

How lovely the house has a heart again

Not Back just visiting

Not back yet , a week off should do it...perhaps more....I got into my head that I had to blog everyday
Of course... I couldn't and Ursula's bile upset me more that it should
I need to recharge the batteries !
I just wanted to share that a badger broke into the bachelors' hen house last night by digging under the entrance and removing the stone step and  then lowered the portcullis door enough to squeeze in....
It must have taken it bloody ages.......it's winter and badgers are hungry
How sad...
The Ukrainian village is now totally silent ....

.....Have A Kit-Kat

After 12 years blogging I've decided to take a break for a little while
A bit of an energy change is required .
Hey Ho..... watch this space. X

Bullying

Yesterday Mrs Trellis told me of an innovative new school initiative to combat bullying.
Instead of discussion groups, witness statements or counselling, the children involved were given a real baby to care for.
At first, I thought that this rather  theatrical intervention was concerning itself more with the act of caring for another living thing rather than anything else but I was only half right as Mrs Trellis explained more.
The important part of this exercise was crying.
The crying of the baby.
For when the baby naturally cried when it was hungry or wet or uncomfortable the children automatically tried to pacify it. They showed natural empathy and concern for the baby and reacted in a positive way to its tears.
It was hoped that this reaction to  the crying baby would be transferred to a positive reaction to the crying of a fellow pupil and according to Mrs Trellis, the experiment worked and levels of bullying decreased.
True or not, the story is an interesting one.

I am reminded here of the reaction of a boy of around six to William when they came face to face outside the school at home time. The boy, after making his usual fuss of the ever avuncular Winnie pointed to William's noticeably odd blind eye asking what was the matter.
I told the boy and his mum that William was blind and to approach him from his good side if he wanted to pet him.
The boy, as young as he was, carefully reached out and rubbed the gentle William on the chin with one hand, and gently covered his bad eye with the other.
" poor little boy" the boy cooed
Empathy is a wonderful thing