Gina G - Ooh Ahh... Just A Little Bit Eurovision performance
we should have won with this entry way back in 1996! Ok she looked like a man in drag ) or even a tiny bit like Rita Hayworth?...but nevertheless............
A Hot Village & Greenberg
It has been hot, hot, hot today!
The village seemed deserted when I took the dogs on their walk this afternoon, but as I walked up High Street, I did spy Auntie Gladys (right pic- oh and just to let everyone know that Gladys is called "auntie" by everyone that knows her!) She was having a quiet sun snooze outside her house, which is one of the oldest in the village. At 90 she remains a stalwart on the flower show committee and single handedly has sold almost 300 raffle tickets!
I didn't wake her as she looked so relaxed, sitting there in the sun...I thought it was a lovely and awfully intimate scene of relaxation.
This afternoon we had a bit of a break and went to see the movie Greenberg at the Scala. As it turned out we were the only two people in the cinema on one of the hottest days of the year so far.....It was blissfully cool inside the cinema....pity the film was so bad.
Greenberg is Noah Baumbach's tale of modern Los Angeles and centres upon the realisation by a small group of friends that they are indeed "past their prime" now they have reached their forties . The central character is Roger Greenberg, a prickly 40 year old no hoper who after being discharged from a psychiatric hospital, is house sitting for his successful LA based Brother.Greenberg ( a dreadfully haggard and sad looking Ben Stiller) is a difficult character. He is overtly angry, emotionally unstable, and is a rather unlikable man who has not quite dealt with the hand that life has given him and amid this background of thinly veiled depression he meets his brother's PA, Florence.(Greta Gerwig). Florence is a similar personality but is young enough to make something out of herself, and the two start a fraught, unstable love affair, overseen by Roger's world weary but ultimately more stable old friend, Ivan ( a good performance by Welshman Rhys Ifans) I am sure Greenberg has a great deal to say about the awful shock it can be when you realise that you are middle aged. It also in its own Annie Hall (ish) way discusses disillusionment,the death of hope and broken dreams.....and does so quite sucessfully in a bleak and souless kind of way....however, in the end I lost interest in what the movie had to say, and this I put down to Stiller's character, who is so awfully unsympathetic that I couldn't bare watching him for another minute longer than the 107 minutes that the movie ran for.
5/10
ps Finally caught up with Nu on the phone this morning......she was in Harrogate going to a wedding....."Just thought of you Jonney!!!" she yelled....."I have just bought a fat bastard from Bettys".........I will tell you the story of all this tomorrow!!! It was lovely to catch up
pps. I spied the Fox tonight in next door's field!
Winnie and Jo
Forgive the "newsreel" feel of the video, but both goslings were rather rumbumbtious this morning. They remain a complete delight!
It looks like another very hot day!...I will be downing the diet cokes like mad......not just for hydration...I have been "peeing" along the field borders all yesterday....Human urine is supposed to be a good fox deterent!.......I have not been caught by anyone yet!!!
48 and still having teenage crushes
Just Watched an episode of the quiz show Never Mind the Buzzcocks....The Lancashire Comic Jon Richardson was one of the panelists and I found him extremely funny and entertaining I have heard him before on the Radio 4 show The Museum Of Curiosity
...how sad is that? A middle aged old queen having a crush on a comic younger than a pair of my old socks!
I need to grow up....Mind you he IS cute
sigh.....
http://www.jon-richardson.co.uk/Shows/Aug10.html
Before & After
Fox watch has dominated my life for the past five days or so. I have not had time to catch up with blog reading (apologies) nor managed to catch Nu and other friends on the phone......By the time I have locked up the last girl....then walked the dogs..it has been way past 10pm! And not one of the bird brains have realised the sacrifice I have made for them! Anyhow even when I finish on the field (no fox sightings today) I still have all the garden planters to water, the dogs to feed and the washing up to do.....there is not enough hours in the day!
Anyhow the extra time on the allotment has been useful, I have weeded most of the veg beds, painted the last hen house and have titivated other bits here and there.
I have posted a photo of the field before I got my grubby little hands on it...and there is one taken more recently.......I need an apprentice! there is too much work for one person!
Anyhow I have just had time for a glass of wine, a brief blog and a bath and me and the dogs are off to bed...Chris is working away again.I bet he is happy to be away to a fox free zone
Anyhow I have just had time for a glass of wine, a brief blog and a bath and me and the dogs are off to bed...Chris is working away again.I bet he is happy to be away to a fox free zonePoor George
Do dogs grieve?It is a question I have been asking myself when observing George since Maddie died. Generally the little chap is quieter than normal, less bouncy, less confident and certainly less "verbal",however , I think it would be easy to push the "human" trait of grief forward as an explanation, after all the emotive scene of George alone on his walks, without his constant companion sniffing at the things he is sniffing at remains one that pulls at your heart strings.
Does George actually miss Maddie?......hummm... I really think that the question is irrelevant, as I believe George's behaviour is really a result of the imbalance within the pack dynamic. The Welsh terriers are and always have been a close pair of their own. They walk together, they play together and they joust together. George has never been an active part of that...ever.
Because of his size and slowness compared to the others he and Maddie by default would walk together on every walk; because of their ability to accept the poultry both Scotties would be allowed free range in the field, whereas the Welsh would always be tethered.
With Maddie dying, his position in the pack does have a certain sense of isolation about it.
Chris especially has also changed the balance of the pack by showing George a little more attention than usual. Now I know just how easy this is to do and it may help Chris grieve for Maddie but I think it causes more issues between the dog pack as a whole. George has always been lowest in the pecking order and both William (who is wonderfully good natured) and Meg will just not allow that fact to be changed.
I think we do need to get George a companion of his own, but getting the right one will be, well, a bit of a challenge......hey ho..
Remembering Ivy
This is the view from our living room window and I am presently sat here waiting for the water to heat up for a bath (the goslings have relieved themselves all over me on our early morning garden bonding moment)Iris' comment tickled me. She remembered a post that I made ages ago about a somewhat wayward set of underpants
http://disasterfilm.blogspot.com/2009/06/underwear-embarrassment.html
This morning I remembered another embarrassing incident that happened to me almost 26 years ago now to the day!,
I was a student nurse in those days and worked in an old Chester asylum (they were asylums in those days!) . I was placed on a long stay ward, where most of the institutionalised patients had been there for most of their lives. The surroundings were austere and functional, but the patients in those final days of hospital based mental health care were well looked after and for the most part happy.
One day I was asked to take a long term schizophrenic patient called Ivy into Chester city centre for some shopping.
She was a neat, sweet looking elderly lady, who smoked constantly and spoke little, so I had no real worries taking her out. Like a grandson with his gran, we ambled arm in arm around the shops, had a coffee and bought Ivy her weekly "treat" to herself of cigarettes and sweets. Throughout the jaunt, Ivy remained polite and appropriate and seemed to be enjoying herself immensely.
Before we caught the bus back to the hospital, Ivy asked if we could have a browse around Browns of Chester ( the flagship department store) so we walked in to the busy cosmetic department .
Almost immediately a plastic looking sales woman came up to Ivy and with a perfume tester in hand asked "Would madam like to try some of this new fragrance?"
Ivy smiled broadly, she loved the attention of strangers
"Oh yes please!" she replied holding out her wrist to be sprayed
The saleswoman gave Ivy a "squirt" which Ivy inhaled with some relish
"That's lovely" Ivy said "what is it?"
The plastic saleswomen smiled, obviously hoping for a sale and said "Poison!"
There was a pause
I stiffened somewhat worried at Ivy's response....
Ivy nodded and sniffed her wrist again
"It is nice!" she said cheerfully
Then added sweetly
"I knew Adolf Hitler you know!!!!........he had a HUGE cock!"
Have a nice day everyone
I am not going to get the credit for this post,...I have taken it from my friend Gill's blog (http://thatbritishwoman.blogspot.com/)
it is powerful and thought provoking..I do hope that it is not just an urban myth
THE SITUATION
In Washington , DC , at a Metro Station, on a cold January morning in 2007, this man with a violin played six Bach pieces for about 45 minutes. During that time, approximately 2,000 people went through the station, most of them on their way to work. After about 3 minutes, a middle-aged man noticed that there was a musician playing. He slowed his pace and stopped for a few seconds, and then he hurried on to meet his schedule.
About 4 minutes later: the violinist received his first dollar. A woman threw money in the hat and, without stopping, continued to walk.
At 6 minutes: A young man leaned against the wall to listen to him, then looked at his watch and started to walk again.
At 10 minutes: A 3-year old boy stopped, but his mother tugged him along hurriedly. The kid stopped to look at the violinist again, but the mother pushed hard and the child continued to walk, turning his head the whole time. This action was repeated by several other children, but every parent - without exception - forced their children to move on quickly.
At 45 minutes: The musician played continuously. Only 6 people stopped and listened for a short while. About 20 gave money but continued to walk at their normal pace. The man collected a total of $32.
After 1 hour: He finished playing and silence took over. No one noticed and no one applauded. There was no recognition at all.
No one knew this, but the violinist was Joshua Bell, one of the greatest musicians in the world. He played one of the most intricate pieces ever written, with a violin worth $3.5 million dollars. Two days before, Joshua Bell sold-out a theater in Boston where the seats averaged $100 each to sit and listen to him play the same music.
This is a true story. Joshua Bell, playing incognito in the D.C. Metro Station, was organized by the Washington Post as part of a social experiment about perception, taste and people's priorities.
This experiment raised several questions:
*In a common-place environment, at an inappropriate hour, do we perceive beauty?
*If so, do we stop to appreciate it?
*Do we recognize talent in an unexpected context?
One possible conclusion reached from this experiment could be this:
If we do not have a moment to stop and listen to one of the best musicians in the world, playing some of the finest music ever written, with one of the most beautiful instruments ever made . . .
How many other things are we missing as we rush through life?
it is powerful and thought provoking..I do hope that it is not just an urban myth
THE SITUATION
In Washington , DC , at a Metro Station, on a cold January morning in 2007, this man with a violin played six Bach pieces for about 45 minutes. During that time, approximately 2,000 people went through the station, most of them on their way to work. After about 3 minutes, a middle-aged man noticed that there was a musician playing. He slowed his pace and stopped for a few seconds, and then he hurried on to meet his schedule.
About 4 minutes later: the violinist received his first dollar. A woman threw money in the hat and, without stopping, continued to walk.
At 6 minutes: A young man leaned against the wall to listen to him, then looked at his watch and started to walk again.
At 10 minutes: A 3-year old boy stopped, but his mother tugged him along hurriedly. The kid stopped to look at the violinist again, but the mother pushed hard and the child continued to walk, turning his head the whole time. This action was repeated by several other children, but every parent - without exception - forced their children to move on quickly.
At 45 minutes: The musician played continuously. Only 6 people stopped and listened for a short while. About 20 gave money but continued to walk at their normal pace. The man collected a total of $32.
After 1 hour: He finished playing and silence took over. No one noticed and no one applauded. There was no recognition at all.
No one knew this, but the violinist was Joshua Bell, one of the greatest musicians in the world. He played one of the most intricate pieces ever written, with a violin worth $3.5 million dollars. Two days before, Joshua Bell sold-out a theater in Boston where the seats averaged $100 each to sit and listen to him play the same music.
This is a true story. Joshua Bell, playing incognito in the D.C. Metro Station, was organized by the Washington Post as part of a social experiment about perception, taste and people's priorities.
This experiment raised several questions:
*In a common-place environment, at an inappropriate hour, do we perceive beauty?
*If so, do we stop to appreciate it?
*Do we recognize talent in an unexpected context?
One possible conclusion reached from this experiment could be this:
If we do not have a moment to stop and listen to one of the best musicians in the world, playing some of the finest music ever written, with one of the most beautiful instruments ever made . . .
How many other things are we missing as we rush through life?
Welcome to Germany
I have just noticed that there seems to be a regular couple of readers from Germany! A fact that is a little intriguing to say the least. None to my knowledge have post a comment! But I am grateful that they are following what rubbish I have to spout here
"Circle my wagons"- What would Gregory Peck have done?
I have no real experience with fending off enemies like the fox. Ok I have a modicum o
f common sense and an innate will to protect my girls, but that is about all!
Most of my knowledge comes from the Internet, local farmers and a good imagination and love of film.....so it wont surprise anyone that I found myself remembering all of these siege movies where the likes of English Postmistress Mrs Frazer finished off the Nazi filth with an axe (Went the day well) or John Wayne repelling the Indians from the children filled church in Rio Grande.........hummm so just what would have the likes of Gregory Peck have done when faced with an murderous adversary with cunning and guile So....out I went at 6pm last night, with a 6 pack of diet coke and a large stick to watch over the flocks.
The whole experience was pretty and subtly stressful ! I parked myself in the centre of the field and for three hours constantly scanned the borders of the field as the mutton headed chickens constantly put themselves in harms way by wandering into the dark recesses of the stream and the hawthorn hedges. Occasionally I even had to curb the urge to yell over to them to return to the "safety" of the field centre....but did succumb to the odd bit of bribery when I "encouraged" the girls back into the fold with a hard bit of bagel !
Bird brain is not a phrase that I wrong I can tell you!
Anyhow, one by one the girls took themselves to bed and the night was drawn to a close without another casualty or another glimpse of Mr Fox.
I know the red faced welsh farmer would help me out if I needed a "hired gun", (and American readers my be interested to hear that the use of firearms is ruled with an iron glove by the authorities here in the UK)..but we will wait and see.....
A neighbour gave me some extra netting to plug the gaps in the pig fencing near the stream, which I did this morning, and all of the heavy greenery has been removed from the field borders. So the girls have more than a fighting chance to see any approaching predator.
I have also set up my solar powered radio on the top of the largest hen house roof, and have been tuned it to London Talk radio. I hope the sound of "chatter" might make the fox think I am around.
Remembering the 1960 movie Spartacus, I did have the urge to set up a a line of oil along the length of the fencing which I could set alight with a flaming touch thus providing a wall of fire between fox and hens.. but I suspect I was letting my imagination run away with myself when on the lonely vigil that is sentry duty!
Poor Chris....he came home last night to find me marching out of the house muttering "fu*king foxes!",, and just had time to ask "where's me tea?" before I was gone.......
( I did leave him a nice supper by the way!)
More of the same tonight
hey ho
f common sense and an innate will to protect my girls, but that is about all!Most of my knowledge comes from the Internet, local farmers and a good imagination and love of film.....so it wont surprise anyone that I found myself remembering all of these siege movies where the likes of English Postmistress Mrs Frazer finished off the Nazi filth with an axe (Went the day well) or John Wayne repelling the Indians from the children filled church in Rio Grande.........hummm so just what would have the likes of Gregory Peck have done when faced with an murderous adversary with cunning and guile So....out I went at 6pm last night, with a 6 pack of diet coke and a large stick to watch over the flocks.
The whole experience was pretty and subtly stressful ! I parked myself in the centre of the field and for three hours constantly scanned the borders of the field as the mutton headed chickens constantly put themselves in harms way by wandering into the dark recesses of the stream and the hawthorn hedges. Occasionally I even had to curb the urge to yell over to them to return to the "safety" of the field centre....but did succumb to the odd bit of bribery when I "encouraged" the girls back into the fold with a hard bit of bagel !
Bird brain is not a phrase that I wrong I can tell you!
Anyhow, one by one the girls took themselves to bed and the night was drawn to a close without another casualty or another glimpse of Mr Fox.
I know the red faced welsh farmer would help me out if I needed a "hired gun", (and American readers my be interested to hear that the use of firearms is ruled with an iron glove by the authorities here in the UK)..but we will wait and see.....
A neighbour gave me some extra netting to plug the gaps in the pig fencing near the stream, which I did this morning, and all of the heavy greenery has been removed from the field borders. So the girls have more than a fighting chance to see any approaching predator.
I have also set up my solar powered radio on the top of the largest hen house roof, and have been tuned it to London Talk radio. I hope the sound of "chatter" might make the fox think I am around.
Remembering the 1960 movie Spartacus, I did have the urge to set up a a line of oil along the length of the fencing which I could set alight with a flaming touch thus providing a wall of fire between fox and hens.. but I suspect I was letting my imagination run away with myself when on the lonely vigil that is sentry duty!
Poor Chris....he came home last night to find me marching out of the house muttering "fu*king foxes!",, and just had time to ask "where's me tea?" before I was gone.......
( I did leave him a nice supper by the way!)
More of the same tonight
hey ho
Gosling bonding and fox watch commences
I had some advice from Mike (http://mrandmrshalpern.blogspot.com/ ) about gosling care. He suggested I take the little ones out of their shed on a regular basis for some "quality time" on pastures new. So this morning and this afternoon we have sat out in the front garden for a play.I cannot stress this enough, goslings are a real delight. They are affectionate and careful and when unsure of anything immediately adopt the bowed posture of the adult bird.
Every time I moved around the garden, they mirrored every movement and only seemed content when either sat on mylegs and lap or in the safe shade, underneath my arm.
The rest of the day ( apart from making fish cakes for Chris' supper and walking the dogs twice) I have been concentrating on Operation Fox Watch.It has taken over 5 hours, but I have strimmed the whole of the bottom of the field of the untidy tussocks and 4 foot grass and nettles that would camouflage any attacking fox. I have plugged the holes in the hawthorn hedge with branches and thorn bushes and had a brief fantasy of planting land mines along the fox run by the stream. Tonight I will keep guard over the field from 7 pm. Anymore problems and it will be gun time!
The fox returns
I was herding Jane, the slate grey turkey back to the turkey enclosure at 7.30 when I saw a streak in the grass around 50 yards away. I could see a white hen running for its life and behind it was the russet Brown shape of a large fox. That part of the field is very rough and covered with large tussocks and swathes of nettles, and as the hen shrieked I could see the fox jumping over the humps of grass to get hold of it.
I dropped the feed bowls I was carrying and ran over. The fox and hen disappeared into a large clump of nettles and I blundered into it after them. ( I was wearing shorts!!) and ALMOST caught the bloody thing before It shot through the hawthorn hedge.
I could see no sign of the hen, except several patches of white feathers, so I was convinced that the fox had nabbed one, but after a head count of the st Trinian group and the old hen house girls (the hens that live in the part of the field) all the poultry had been accounted for.
It took an age but I found the victim eventually. It was one of the St Trinian adolescent cockerels and apart from a few missing feathers he otherwise looked ok.
A fox attack in day time is rare.
This fox will be back.
Time to organise a gunman...
In the meantime I am off to treat my nettle stung legs!!!
I dropped the feed bowls I was carrying and ran over. The fox and hen disappeared into a large clump of nettles and I blundered into it after them. ( I was wearing shorts!!) and ALMOST caught the bloody thing before It shot through the hawthorn hedge.
I could see no sign of the hen, except several patches of white feathers, so I was convinced that the fox had nabbed one, but after a head count of the st Trinian group and the old hen house girls (the hens that live in the part of the field) all the poultry had been accounted for.
It took an age but I found the victim eventually. It was one of the St Trinian adolescent cockerels and apart from a few missing feathers he otherwise looked ok.
A fox attack in day time is rare.
This fox will be back.
Time to organise a gunman...
In the meantime I am off to treat my nettle stung legs!!!
Sunday Snaps,a letter, teen thugs and goose updates
I am sat at the kitchen table with the first (and best) cup of coffee of the day. I have changed the usual LBC talk radio chatter over to Classic FM and in front of me is a vase of cut roses from the garden. (Chris sighs every time I bring flowers into the house and grumbles "there are more soddin' flowers inside the house than there is in the garden!"
This morning ( a fine clear day) you get a true blast waft of the scent of honeysuckle as you come around the front of the cottage, so much so, that two early walkers stopped by the gate just to "sniff"
A day or so I received a neat hand written letter with a local post mark. Not too unusual an occurrence, you might say, but in this age of email and text, had written letters seem to be a rarity and I may add , a little bit of a treat.
As it turned out, the letter was in reply to the lengthy one I sent to the vets after Maddie's death, and on reflection I think it actually mirrored mine by being measured, thoughtful
and in the main constructive.
and in the main constructive.
Of course my concerns over Maddie's treatment were countered just as I expected they would have been, but my other points regarding communication issues and my lack of confidence in the practice itself, were acknowledged, and for that I was strangely grateful.
The time and effort it has taken to reply to my complaint has been therapeutic in itself.
Anyhow, over to more frivolous issues. The 10 young hens that were chicks only 11 weeks ago have formed themselves into a tight knit little group that resemble Ronald Searle's illustrations of the St Trinian Schoolgirls.
Led by a couple of immature and posturing males, the "gang" swagger around the lower part of the field like teenagers at the top of town! If there were a couple of tin cans around I am sure that they would be kicked, as the ten of them look as though they are up to no good for most of the time.
Only when the lead cockerel Stanley wanders around to give them a rather blank "once over" do the gang melt away into the grass to hide, before re appearing with that slightly bored "whatever" kind of attitude.
Winnie and Jo, seem to be doing ok in the hot house of the shed. Winnie is more robust than his/her sibling, but both seem to be doing ok. Readers that have raised goslings before may be able to give me some pointers about the specifics of gosling care.....I wonder if they are slightly more delicate than the Indian runner ducklings I am more used to. They seem to spend 90% of their time running around in hysterical circles and shitting on their own webbed feet!
Right...the coffee cup has been drained and I need to take the dogs out before the heat of the day becomes too unbearable...Hope everyone has a nice Sunday My name is Nanette Newman
Speaking of The Stepford Wives......I seem to have metamorphosed into Nanette Newman this morning
.....all I need is a frilly apron and a vacant stare....( ok ok I already have a frilly apron!)
I have been the ideal "wife" this morning. Chris has had a very hard week at work and looked shattered last night. So this morning I took the dogs out early, Popped to the garage and bought him the Saturday broadsheets and gave him the papers and breakfast in bed
I managed to curb the urge to start humming as I lightly flicked a feather duster over the top of the paintings in the living room, and the bright yellow washing up gloves are still lying on the garden wall ( I had used them yesterday to help me pull up nettles from the back garden border) ......I am sat here at the kitchen table with butter from a bagel dripped all down my front and a pair of pants on that are covered with chicken poo...so I guess I am still not quite the trophy partner.......just yet
ps and to all those geeks out there I KNOW it is a photo of Katherine Ross
x
.....all I need is a frilly apron and a vacant stare....( ok ok I already have a frilly apron!)I have been the ideal "wife" this morning. Chris has had a very hard week at work and looked shattered last night. So this morning I took the dogs out early, Popped to the garage and bought him the Saturday broadsheets and gave him the papers and breakfast in bed
I managed to curb the urge to start humming as I lightly flicked a feather duster over the top of the paintings in the living room, and the bright yellow washing up gloves are still lying on the garden wall ( I had used them yesterday to help me pull up nettles from the back garden border) ......I am sat here at the kitchen table with butter from a bagel dripped all down my front and a pair of pants on that are covered with chicken poo...so I guess I am still not quite the trophy partner.......just yet
ps and to all those geeks out there I KNOW it is a photo of Katherine Ross
x
Gossip
My friend "Bel's" comments in Monday's blog comparing Trelawnyd to Stepford (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Stepford_Wives) is an interesting one, as of course in village life there are always those petty niggles, fall outs and spats going on, that make the place real and not so chocolate boxy! ( Perhaps I do make it sound a little too much like the village from Little House on the Prairie)I noticed all this today, as I have spent my hours clearing the back garden of five wheelbarrow loads of weeds and surplus growth.
Being in the garden means that I meet many more locals than I do toiling away in the field, and everyone that today seemed to have the need to moan about someone else in the village.
Someone had forgotten to invite someone else to a village "do", whilst someone else had argued over some gardening issues and the parking of some cars! Yes all very petty, and all very ordinary.
Village gossip about such things is entertaining and necessary, I always think. It is neither important or really dramatic but it is the stuff that makes a community shuffle along and gives the mundane a little harmless sparkle.
Of course our village has its fair share of little Hitlers and community snoopers, who delight in the misfortune or the rule breaking of others, but these people really have no impact in our lives as most people rub shoulders with their neighbours without any undue problems.
People in large estates, towns and cities have immunity to all this normality....as we did in Sheffield....in our street ( of say 70 households) we knew one family and one single woman! and that was it
The weather is too dry! and the grass the surrounds the flower beds in the Village public areas is already going brown after it has been cut.Thank goodness for my neighbours who always allow me to use their hose and water to water the allotment beds nearest to the road. If water metering comes to Trelawnyd then well I ( and the hens and vegetables) are buggered!
Lourdes
Lourdes (By the Austrian filmmaker Jesica Hausner) is a cracking find of a film as it challenges and provokes rather than simply presenting an interesting story.The film opens with a shot of a utilitarian and empty hotel restaurant. Slowly the large cast enter to take their seats. Some are clearly disabled, some are in wheelchairs and their attendants are made up of nuns and volunteer nurses who wear almost fascist type uniforms.
This first shot is a pivotal one, as it underlines the tone of the entire film. Hausner, takes an unhurried view of the group of pilgrims and their carers on a trip to Lourdes and does so with some beautifully crafted wide group shots of ceremony and ritual. She explains very little, yet gives her motley group a complicated religious ambiguity that covers pious hope, depressive apathy, and more interestingly observes acts of petty jealously, bitchiness,bitterness and periods of cynicism amongst the group when one of them seemingly has a partial recovery from her disability.
The central character is a young French quadriplegic Christine ( Slyvie Testud) who has come on the pilgrimage as a way of getting to socialise. She observes everything with a benign interest and although physically passive to the whims of the inexperienced teenage carers she survives the experience with a resignation and stillness which is, at times amazingly powerful to watch.
The film does not sneer at faith, or hope or indeed pilgrimage...it observes everything with some wit, with care and with patience and like all good films it asks many more questions than it finally answers
9/10
Winnie and Jo
After yesterday's tirade and fat baby insults (I caught myself giggling guiltily about it all when half asleep in bed this morning)- I thought it prudent to concentrate my attentions on two perfectly formed and sweet looking babies for a change.Now I have reared baby chicks (no personality-literally just balls of down), turkey poults (delightful but solemn) and runner ducklings (mad as a box of frogs) but compared to all of them, the two goslings are a real and affectionate delight!
Obviously my two have already imprinted on me, so when I go in to feed and water them, they scramble forward to nuzzle and play with my hands and fingers. When picked up both lie still and content within the warmth of my hand, and their blind attachment to me almost brings tears to my eyes! (can this be the same old queen that verbally berated a woman in a common halter top and her ugly two year old, only yesterday?)
Anyhow, I am reluctant to name the two babies as yet, it is still early days and they have not been sexed.. but I think I will give them a "unisex" name...so the little grey will be called Winston (or Winnie) and the white Joanna ( or Joe).......
Early evening I am meeting up with Hazel ( I have not seen her for an age!) and we are going to see the movie Lourdes, I still will be back to lock the animals up before 10pm, so it's not exactly a giddy night out, but it is a change!
I am not a very nice person
I was not going to go out this afternoon but I had a delivery of eggs to organise and I thought it prudent to drive to the pet feed wholesalers to buy a bag of goose starter crumbs for the babies in the shed.
So with the dogs all sat in the back seat, we drove to Prestatyn then on around eight miles to Abergele where the feed shop is. It has been blisteringly hot today, so after a quick stop to buy the feed I wanted to get the dogs home but realised that we needed a few things for tea. Abergele has a Tesco, so I drove there and nabbed the last parking space under the supermarket's canopy. Unfortunately the space was in a mother and baby parking area, but as it was the only shaded parking space in a shimmering car park I took the chance!
As I locked the car door, an irate young woman in an awful halter top came bounding up to me whist dragging a snotty and obese toddler. She said in an over loud voice ( so that everyone else could hear no doubt)
"That is a mother and baby parking spot"
I sighed as this has happened to me before! but I tried a smile and explained
"I wont be very long and I have three hot dogs in the car..this is the only shaded car parking space here"
The woman's face was a picture , she looked at me as though I was a Nazi in full SS uniform
"This is ridiculous" she spat "don't you know it it ILLEGAL to park here if you haven't got a Child!"
"No I didn't" I said simply and started to walk into the store.
Now this must have got her dander up, as she side stepped with me and said
"I am going to fucking tell the customer services on you!"
ON YOU!....I am going to tell ON YOU!!! where were we?....school?
I had had enough...I cannot be doing with women like her
I stopped and in a low growl I said (rather too gleefully I must say)
"You go and tell the fucking customer services rep see if I care " and I pointed to her child who was stood behind her " and don't forget to take your fat ugly child with you!"
It was worth it, but I did feel a tad guilty afterwards....you see I am not always a sweet fluffy bunny type of person!
So with the dogs all sat in the back seat, we drove to Prestatyn then on around eight miles to Abergele where the feed shop is. It has been blisteringly hot today, so after a quick stop to buy the feed I wanted to get the dogs home but realised that we needed a few things for tea. Abergele has a Tesco, so I drove there and nabbed the last parking space under the supermarket's canopy. Unfortunately the space was in a mother and baby parking area, but as it was the only shaded parking space in a shimmering car park I took the chance!
As I locked the car door, an irate young woman in an awful halter top came bounding up to me whist dragging a snotty and obese toddler. She said in an over loud voice ( so that everyone else could hear no doubt)
"That is a mother and baby parking spot"
I sighed as this has happened to me before! but I tried a smile and explained
"I wont be very long and I have three hot dogs in the car..this is the only shaded car parking space here"
The woman's face was a picture , she looked at me as though I was a Nazi in full SS uniform
"This is ridiculous" she spat "don't you know it it ILLEGAL to park here if you haven't got a Child!"
"No I didn't" I said simply and started to walk into the store.
Now this must have got her dander up, as she side stepped with me and said
"I am going to fucking tell the customer services on you!"
ON YOU!....I am going to tell ON YOU!!! where were we?....school?
I had had enough...I cannot be doing with women like her
I stopped and in a low growl I said (rather too gleefully I must say)
"You go and tell the fucking customer services rep see if I care " and I pointed to her child who was stood behind her " and don't forget to take your fat ugly child with you!"
It was worth it, but I did feel a tad guilty afterwards....you see I am not always a sweet fluffy bunny type of person!
Bloody Sunday
I listened with interest to David Cameron's perfectly pitched speech on the findings of the Saville Report.(http://news.bbc.co.uk/1/hi/northern_ireland/10320609.stm)
The events of Bloody Sunday,where 13 civilians were shot dead during a civil rights demonstration was a terrible, terrible mistake on behalf of the British Army, and it is with sadness that we realise that only after 38 years will the families and friends of those killed will get some closure on the events of January 1972.
I grew up in the seventies and even as a child the fear of what was effectively a civil war in Ireland was, to me, very real. The IRA brought their struggle and fight to the mainland with an indiscriminate and murderous bombing campaign and even though the killings on Bloody Sunday cannot be excused in any way, I think they must be viewed within the context of what was essentially a war (I always, even as a child thought the term "the troubles" as the conflict in Ireland was always referred to, was an awfully impotent phrase),
It has been reported that the IRA alone killed 1,110 British security forces and over 630 civilians during the "troubles", and while we should mourn and apologise for the awful killings on Bloody Sunday, the thousands of "other" innocent dead should also be remembered.
(pic Paul Greengrass' movie Bloody Sunday 2001)
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