Favourite Time Of The Week

Sunday lunchtime is my favourite time
I have ten minutes before the beef is cooked.
We are having brisket, garlic mashed potatoes, sprouts and cabbage and will be sitting at the dining room table.
I have enjoyed the Sunday replay of radio 4's " Just a minute" whilst the Prof has been rearranging our jumper drawer, only popping out to drop some flowers off at Mrs H's house. I am glad I called round, being burgled for many people is a terribly traumatic experience.
It's the remembrance service at the War Memorial in the village at 2.30..it's a pity that it is not advertised more, being essentially a church and chapel thing......We shall pop down later with Winnie in tow.
I think remembrance Sunday can use a British Bulldog .....

 As it turned out, the weather necessitated the service be taken inside the village hall. Winnie and I remained outside by the war memorial, she stole a few large mouthfuls of Albert's high protein breakfast and I couldn't risk her opening her bowels on the Polished memorial Hall floor!

Calling All Cars!

Auntie Glad, Like all other Trelawnyd-ites 

Should be on full alert

This is a purely Trelawnyd based blog entry. Mrs Trellis had just called around with a squeaky toy for Mary and was having tea and  cake with the Prof when I bumped into Doctor's wife Pippa down the lane. She informed me that there had been another break in, in Trelawnyd and that Mrs H's bungalow on Rhodfa Arthur's had been the target and the police were on their way.
So message to all.....be on your guard and keep your doors locked........they are out there.......out in the dark.............

" You slaggggggg"

After a strenuous bout of face fat pulling , I separated Winnie from Mary so that the bulldog could have a peaceful half hour in bed at breakfast time.

You can actually see her smiling don't you think?

Anyhow today's blog......well it's about the super prison which is planned to be built some twenty miles away. Apparently it is going to be the biggest penitentiary in the UK with over 2000 cons being banged up at any one time!

There is going to be a recruitment drive locally for Prision officers and the like, and I guess the knock on effect of support services will help with the poor employment figures in the area.

I have only one experience of prison life and that was in the American midwest. 

I was visiting a spinal rehabilitation centre and asked my nursing guide why the unit had so many portering staff. 

" Portering staff?" She repeated, confused at my question

" You know all the men in orange uniforms that are taking the patients to gym and occupational therapy" 

" oh them" the nurse said " they're prisioners from the local prison" 

The prisoners proved to be an invaluable asset to the rehab unit. Not only did they carry out portering duties, they ran messages, fed the patents who were unable to feed themselves and interacted , albeit on a supervised level with the mainly young patient population of the facility.

I asked the nurse why having the prisioners around worked so well

And she gave me some guff  about " raising self esteem, getting cons beck into the workplace and intigrating people of all classes and experiences"

" oh" she added with a smile " they are cheap" 

Keeping Your Mimsy Clean

It's going to be a mixed bag kinda blog today....
Anyway first things first.
Thanks to a Trelawnyd resident Nev Lancelotte for allowing me to link in a video he made of Trelawnyd over two decades ago. I have placed it on Going Gently's sister blog " Trelawnyd Voices from the past"

http://trelawnydhistory.blogspot.co.uk

I found the video somewhat of a bittersweet one as all but four of the characters shown have now passed on. ( If you look closely you can see Auntie Gladys complete with her Arthur Askey specs on)

But it is a wonderful little bit of social history.

Secondly

The light was fading and the quality of the " snap" is somewhat poor but have a look at this

George and Mary 

And compare it to this

George and Meg nine years ago

What goes around comes around

And finally......I'll leave you with this thought

I have never heard of the word "Mimsy" before

But I think it's a cracking word.

Perhaps a good name for a dog?

  Aka Mrs Slocombe 

" My Mimsy got a dreadful soaking this morning out in the rain

I had to stand her in front of the fire to dry off" 

Oh yes! Hours of fun

Spectre

I had big hopes for Spectre. From the publicity, the talk shows , the gossip and the hype, I understood that the franchise was due to leave the seriousness and the fragility of Bond from "Casino Royale" and the rollercoaster ride that was " Skyfall" to become something that was a little more wisecracking, frivolous and a homage to all the other Bonds that have gone before.
So we had the spectacular chase sequence in a tropical parade ( an amazing tracking shot in and around the " day of the dead" celebrations in Mexico), a fluffy white cat, the helicopter and inside a sleeper train fight, the exploding secret lair and even jokey Italian extra over reacting to the obligatory car chase, and although it looked marvellous , dramatically it left me totally cold .
Casino Royale's Bond was so much more interesting.
7/10.

A Bit Of Friction

Trelawnyd isn't " Walnut Grove" or " Walton's Mountain".....even though I often give the impression that it is. Historically it is a working class Welsh village that has it's spats and fall outs like any other community and it may come a surprise to a few when I say that there is at least one village character that I would find difficult to piss on if they were on fire.
Oh of course I WOULD piss on them....it's only a figure of speech, but I guess you get the gist of the matter.
Now we share a tight lipped " hello" on meeting, but I am still sure it was them that reported one of my village fete . " open allotment days " to the district council on " health and safety " reasons. This anonymous whistle blowing necessitated a red faced official visiting the field before the day to check if I had completed the relevant risk assessment paperwork.
" Someone doesn't like you" the council clerk said in way of explanation " we get a lot of these kind of petty reports "
The Red Faced Welsh farmer gave me some advice at that time....
" Get proof if you can....always get proof....... Failing that give ' em a hard smack On a dark night"

The RFWF centre at the Jubilee Carnival

When the Red Faced Welsh Farmer was alive, things in Trelawnyd were much more exciting. He would delight in stirring up the Community council meetings with robust tails of political and personal shenanigans whilst bellowing like Robert Newton in Treasure Island.
He made enemies as easily as he made friends, and the dry -as- a - nun's - chuff agendas were delightfully colourful when he was alive.
Cross the RFWF and you risked getting a punch in the face....but you always knew where you stood with him.......it was a testament to him that when he died, the large church as Bodelwyddan was over filled with hundreds of mourners.

There is still a group of characters in the village that would stand by your side in a fight. Wise, measured individuals who would and do " have a word in an ear" if the need arose. Luckily for me, I think, I stand in their corner

I was thinking about this when I was passing the untidy house with the black bin bagged windows in the centre of the village today. Two staffy crosses were loose in the garden and both were barking loudly behind fences that didn't look too safe and an unseen character was shouting at them to be quiet. I hope that the new family integrate themselves into the community .....for there has been friction before with inner city English families being " parachuted" into quiet areas of social housing here with interesting results......

Luckily " The word in your ear" approach seems to have worked wonders when antisocial behaviour reared it's ugly head.

See...its not all scones and bara brith! 

Mary...A Review

Frances asked for a "Mary" update the other day so, I shall give you all a brief synopsis of how things are going.
Her entry into an established pack has been an interesting study in canine psychology

Yesterday Mr and Mrs B from around the corner called in to be introduced and after five minutes left with their nerves in tatters after Mrs B's handbag had been relieved of a packet of tissues, a pension card and a slightly shopworn pink plastic hairbrush.

We all had forgotten just how overactive puppies can be.

Mary is bright little spark.
Like most puppies she constantly pushes the boundaries with the other dogs, but cleverly she just reigns in her silliness  so they don't lose it totally with her. William and George will cuddle up regularly but are too middle aged for puppy play, and both can find places to disappear to when baby teeth get a bit too sharp.
Even Winnie , who seems to be Mary's favourite plaything, has gone up a gear, and  now will allow the puppy to chew and pull at the fat folds of her face for hours at a time without raising one eyebrow in protest.
To repay her, for her stoic behaviour, Winnie has now been allowed to sleep on the living room armchair at night.....a huge step up from her bed on the kitchen floor.

And what about Albert?
Well Albert has taken all of these changes in his stride. He doesn't suffer fools gladly and has boxed Mary's ears on more than one occasion..apart from that , he has refused to let his routine change in any other way.

And what about me?
How have I coped with this little scrap of terrier energy?
Of course, apart from tutting over the odd shitty pile of turd lurking on the carpet, I have to share with you all that she has been a delight.
She has been a delight , because right from the very start she has been a daddy's girl.
Meg will never be forgotten.
But the physical vacuum left by her death ( and it was almost painful in it's absence ) has been filled somewhat for everytime I sit down, a little bundle of black and tan fur is pressed tightly into my lap. 

Hell And Tinsel

I hate shopping with a vengence

and I hate shopping in garden centre Christmas display areas even more

To me they are as pointless as a spare dick at a wedding.

But every year I subject myself to the annual "collection of the decorations"

in order to send some dear friends and my mother-in-law a load of 

old tat that they can hang on their trees and loop in front of the windows.

It's become a bit of a tradition.

Today, I subected myself to a half hour amble around the vast winter wonderland

at the local garden centre and I wasn't the only one.

The place was heaving with mostly middle aged and elderly women, most of whom 

looked as though they were enjoying themselves immensely.

The largest group were clustered around a dancing father Christmas who was bouncing around 

to the strains of " Jingle bell , jingle bell, jingle bell Rock"  

They were laughing like loons , and as I mused over whether to buy an obese smiling woollen turkey who was waving a sign which said " I love Christmas Pudding"

I caught the gaze of the only man in the group who looked painfully bored with

the whole sorry spectacle.

He mouthed the words " God help me" at me as the women continued to cackle  

And I gave him one of my most sympathetic smiles