Compare this pixar dragon with the previous photo!
A Long Time Coming!
Yesterday was incredibly humid. It was also rather sunny , not good for black furred animals like George and Albert.
Fuses are cut rather short when it's sticky and oppressive
For months now, Mary has taken every opportunity to goad Albert.
A cold nose up the arsehole at every opportunity
A sharp bark when the boy is sitting peacefully on the bedroom window ledge
It is the challenge adolescent dogs delight in when the victim is smaller and different.
Yesterday, as Albert sauntered into the cottage in order to find a cool corner he stopped briefly to rub heads with his best mate Winnie. (Head rubbing, for those that don't know, is a feline gesture of welcome.)
The ever alert Mary, grabbed her chance.
She shot out of her hiding place from under the kitchen table and in one long " sweep" gave Albert's bumhole a massive and rather over saturated lick.
It was the lick that broke the camel's back.
Albert lost it.
He growled like a tiger and lifted himself onto his tiptoes with his back arched like a bow and when finally Mary bolted for the safety of the staircase he shot after her like Bagheera from The Jungle Book.
Albert caught Mary in our bedroom and by the sound of the howls he must have given her a sound and long overdue thrashing.
I left him to it.
The tail swishing and dark mood lasted all day , I am afraid, and even this morning ( nearly 24 hours since the final bumhole lick was administered) Albert is still looked rather wide eyed and bad tempered when Mary is in his vicinity.
I snapped the above photo just a few minutes ago as Mary prudently sat under my armpit, on the arm of the chair.
Albert in full growl!
Hell hath no fury like a goggle-eyed black cat scorned
The Worst Emotion And Trendy Carol's fashion faux Pas
I got home around 2 am this morning only to find my reading glasses destroyed on the living room floor.
Mary had struck again .
I was irritated and somewhat annoyed but an eager face and a cold nose warmed me up enough to allow a cuddle up after I had done the creeping " limbo" like dance , in order to sneak into bed without waking a slumbering Professor who was sleeping a happy Professor sleep.
Animals, even when they are naughty, can irritate you terribly..but they never disappoint you like people can .
Disappointment, I thought minutes after moving William's slightly shitty smelling bum from my pillow, is definitely and exclusively a human based emotion.
Disappointing someone is the pits.
Being disappointed by someone is somehow worse.
There are elements of hurt and shame wrapped up in disappointment .
It's such a sad emotion.
I've only been thinking of this after reading the twitter furore post The Great British Bake Off Sell off. Twitterers seem to be overwhelmingly disappointed in the show and it's fall from grace, it's almost as if they had caught their best friend stealing from them, so strong is the feeling.
How many times have we heard the phrases " You fucking well piss me off" " stop it, you've really upset me!" Or my very favourite " you are getting on my tits!"
But I think we all would detest a loved one 's comment of " You've really disappointed me" so much more.
Disappointment is all wrapped up with shame and true hurt
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Oh and talking of tits, just spied Trendy carol thundering through the village with her two terriers.
She was wearing grey trousers, up to date laceless sneakers and a very floaty grey blouse, cut low and very loose fitting..
Her dogs were bouncing her around somewhat
So much so, that I had to shout over a small call of advice
" Carol! Your babs are hanging out!"
She disappeared quicky to get changed!
Hey ho
Today's Moral Maze
Today's nugget of wisdom is, I think, something of a discussion .
Feel free to comment......
Yesterday Cameron , the teenage boffin, called around with some homemade Jam for The Prof and I. He's a nice lad, and a bright one too and it was great to find out his news, his university plans and to be able to look at many of his new photographs taken in and around the village.
He was also nice enough to give Winnie a kiss on the lips when she became " all unnecessary "
Now, I hope that Cameron doesn't think I am rude in any way but on the odd occasion he has called around to the cottage , whether it be on flower show or bird locking up duty business, I am always careful to chat outside the cottage, which is almost a " public" area so to speak.
This is a habit I have gotten into and is one that I understand is right but one I feel slightly uncomfortable with.
Now this is not a gay thing......it's more an " appropriate" behaviour kind of thing. If I was a straight man of 54 and a sixteen year old girl, I knew , knocked on the door with a jar of jam then would I still feel it right not to invite her in without a chaperone. Too bloody right I would.
But it still feels as though I'm being a bit rude!
Would you feel the same?
Answers on a postcard please!
We Walk The Same Line
The Prof bounces out of bed in the morning like Julie Andrews.
At 5.30 am I look like Walter Matthau from The Odd Couple .
I have to get up at this ungodly time as it is my job to walk the dogs. So I drag my sorry carcass up, dress in anything I can grab and amble sleepily around the village until bladders are emptied.
Only then can we all return home en masse where we all silently stagger past a chatty and dapper Prof and return to a very warm duvet like baby rabbits in a pile of straw.
It's dark at 5.30am and for most part the village is asleep. We walk up past the church and along London Road and turn into Well Street where collective bottoms are lowered into the dewy grass of the village green. The cottages that flank the green are dark and lifeless and with only Mary left to " do jobs" we move on up High Street.
There were lights on in one of the neat bungalows , and I could see movement behind clean net curtains.
As The dogs sniffed at the grass with interest, I stopped to watch.
An elderly woman was sat at a table with her head in her hands.
In front of her was a large mug, presumably filled with tea.
Another woman in some sort of uniform was standing by a bed set up against the wall. She was drying her ham arms with a towel.
There was another figure in the bed who I couldn't see clearly. But the small table next to the bed was filled to bursting with bottles and medicines.
I could even make out a discarded nebulizer hung over the headboard.
It was " an end of life" tableau, one that we have all have been familiar with at one time or another
The exhaustion of the old woman was palpable and a song came into my head as I stood there, a gentle melancholic song by Everything But The Girl
The lyrics fitted the tableau perfectly
If you lose your faith, babe
You can have mine
And if you're lost I'm right behind
'Cause we walk the same line
You can have mine
And if you're lost I'm right behind
'Cause we walk the same line
Now I don't have to tell you
How slow the night can go
I know you've watched for the light
How slow the night can go
I know you've watched for the light
And I bet you could tell me
How slowly four follows three
And you're most forlorn
Just before dawn
How slowly four follows three
And you're most forlorn
Just before dawn
And so, if you loose your faith, babe
You can have mine
And if you're lost I'm right behind
'Cause we walk the same line
You can have mine
And if you're lost I'm right behind
'Cause we walk the same line
When it's dark, baby
There's a light out shinin'
And if you're lost I'm right behind
Cause we walk the same line
There's a light out shinin'
And if you're lost I'm right behind
Cause we walk the same line
And I don't need remindin'
How loud the phone can ring
When you're waiting for news
How loud the phone can ring
When you're waiting for news
And that big old moon
Lights every corner of the room
Your back aches from lying
And your head aches from crying
Lights every corner of the room
Your back aches from lying
And your head aches from crying
And so, if you loose your faith, babe
You can have mine
And if you're lost I'm right behind
'Cause we walk the same line
You can have mine
And if you're lost I'm right behind
'Cause we walk the same line
When it's dark, baby
There's a light out shinin'
And if you're lost I'm right behind
'Cause we walk the same line
There's a light out shinin'
And if you're lost I'm right behind
'Cause we walk the same line
And if these troubles should vanish
Like rain at midday
Well I've no doubt there'll be more
Like rain at midday
Well I've no doubt there'll be more
And we can't run and we can't cheat
'Cause baby when we meet
What we're afraid of
We find out what we're made of
'Cause baby when we meet
What we're afraid of
We find out what we're made of
And so, if you loose your faith, babe
You can have mine
And if you're lost I'm right behind
'Cause we walk the same line
You can have mine
And if you're lost I'm right behind
'Cause we walk the same line
When it's dark, baby
There's a light out shinin'
And if you're lost I'm right behind
'Cause we walk the same line
There's a light out shinin'
And if you're lost I'm right behind
'Cause we walk the same line
And if you're lost I'm right behind
Cause we walk the same line
Cause we walk the same line
Walk the same line
And if you're lost I'm right behind
'Cause we walk the same line
'Cause we walk the same line
Ground Zero Remembered
I meant to post this yesterday.
A few months after 9/11 the Prof and I went to New York
We remember this church so, so well......every railing covered in homemade posters calling for the return of loved ones home.
So, so....so sad
Rule Britannia
What is it with ladies of a certain age and national flags?
This year Colwyn Bay ( which is just down the road) was the Welsh venue, alongside Belfast and Glasgow, so we took our flags , picnic hampers, champagne and blankets to watch the fun.
Now for those that don't know The Last Night Of The Proms is a slightly tongue-in-cheek , undeniably patriotic gallop of a concert, where the audience ( high on good nature and/or wine) participate in rousing renditions of British sea shanties, a flag busting Rule Britannia and a tearful There's no place like home.
The principality concerts tend to be " more inclusive" in nature, what with " pop" singers doing their own hits - backed by a BBC Symphony orchestra but there was plenty of classical turns to watch and enjoy even if the Prof was nearly apoplectic with rage as the Welsh Concert didn't feature Land of Hope And Glory.
Everyone likes a big finish!
Their interperation ( through the medium of dance and semaphore) was particulary evident during a classical version of Pharrell Williams' Happy and Quincy Jones' soul Bossa-Nova from Austin Powers! where they cantered up and down like two over excited shetland ponies trailing their harnesses behind them
More Flag Waving
The Prof and sister Janet
Husband & Husband
Budgies
The post decorating cupboard sort out can be incredibly therapeutic.
I finished replacing the front room furniture around 10 pm last night, and enjoyed titivating as The Prof hid upstairs out of the way.
I found these two alabaster budgerigar bookends hidden away at the back of a bookcase and brought them out so their faces could see the sun.
I am reminded of something my sister says about antiques
" You never really own an antique" she said "you just look after it for a while"
The Subject Is Sex
I was brought up in a household that never mentioned sex ever !
It was a secretive unmentionable
Sex education , for what it was worth, was left to a banal 1970s school curiculum, discarding porn magazines found on the Prestatyn sandhills and playtime gossip.
But like most late baby boomers we got by somehow...despite everything.
I worked a shift at Samaritans last night until the small wee hours, and as uaual my collegue and I were on the recieving end of a score of sex calls . It's a shocking statistic , but it is common for the highly trained dedicated SAM volunteers to be subjected to masturbating callers, sexual fantastists and others who feel they have no other outlet than calling a stranger, and blocking a helpline designed to help the psychologically distressed.
My colleague and I wondered just how many of our callers had upbringings where sex was secretative and dirty or who lived lives of sexual isolation and longing.
Now in my fifties, I think I have a healthy view of sex.
I do feel it is a private subject, but I am no prude when it comes down to a bit of rumpy pumpy
I have worked as an advocate for sexual health with spinal cord injured men.
I have " counselled" and supported men with sexual dysfunction
And I have lived with a sexually lacivious bulldog for several years without too much blushing.
But I must admit, that at midnight after a long and busy day painting walls a rather sweet shade of apple green.
The breathless voice of a middleaged man whispering the words " I'm touching myself through lace fronted panties" left me all a bit cold!
It was a secretive unmentionable
Sex education , for what it was worth, was left to a banal 1970s school curiculum, discarding porn magazines found on the Prestatyn sandhills and playtime gossip.
But like most late baby boomers we got by somehow...despite everything.
I worked a shift at Samaritans last night until the small wee hours, and as uaual my collegue and I were on the recieving end of a score of sex calls . It's a shocking statistic , but it is common for the highly trained dedicated SAM volunteers to be subjected to masturbating callers, sexual fantastists and others who feel they have no other outlet than calling a stranger, and blocking a helpline designed to help the psychologically distressed.
My colleague and I wondered just how many of our callers had upbringings where sex was secretative and dirty or who lived lives of sexual isolation and longing.
Now in my fifties, I think I have a healthy view of sex.
I do feel it is a private subject, but I am no prude when it comes down to a bit of rumpy pumpy
I have worked as an advocate for sexual health with spinal cord injured men.
I have " counselled" and supported men with sexual dysfunction
And I have lived with a sexually lacivious bulldog for several years without too much blushing.
But I must admit, that at midnight after a long and busy day painting walls a rather sweet shade of apple green.
The breathless voice of a middleaged man whispering the words " I'm touching myself through lace fronted panties" left me all a bit cold!
No Painting, Mrs Simmons and Police Porn
It's lunchtime and still I have not got around to painting the remainder of the front room!
I was up at 5.30 taking the Prof to work in order to be around for 7 am ( the earliest time when the new fridge was being delivered)
It duly arrived around 10.30 and we had the usual performance from Winnie as the two delivery men were " encouraged" to make a fuss. One gave her a big kiss on the chops which sent her into paroxysms of delight........she's sulking now because no one else has knocked on the door!
So we have a fridge now......the Prof's life is no longer shite!
I've done some shopping and filled the fridge , then dropped Mary down the lane to Trendy Carol's house to play with her Welsh Terrier Bitch Seren ( see video)
I thought with Mary occupied I could then get on with painting unhindered.
Wrong!
I had just reached the gate when I spied Mrs Simmons walking down the lane.
She waved for me to stop.
" Bob's gravestone has been put in the churchyard" she said " I wondered if you would come with me to see it?"
It had been a year since I read the eulogy at her husband's funeral service.
The stone and inscription on the gravestone was simple and fitting and I told Mrs Simmons that as we
Stood amid the graves looking at it.
She can talk the hind leg off a donkey can Mrs Simmons , so as nice as she is, I was glad to see police personnel Ian and Jo walk up with their greyhound in tow for they took over the conversation nicely.
Anyhow speaking of the police, I was spoilt last night with a difficult choice of tv viewing/ radio listening. We had got back after a rather good Thai meal out when I realised that I had not see Bake off or listened to day three of Helen's trial in The Archers.
There was also a new reality cop show on sky ( The Force -Essex) to give the once over to
(The Prof always raises a Roger Moore eyebrow when reality cop shows come on the tv....he refers to my drooling addiction to men in uniform as Police Porn! ) ...oh.....and it was the Opening Ceremony of the Paralympics to watch.......so I was spoilt by choice.....
In the end I watched and listened to all four, so I didn't get to bed until the small hours.
And you wonder why I haven't lifted a paint brush up yet!?
I'm bloody knackered
Hey ho!
I was up at 5.30 taking the Prof to work in order to be around for 7 am ( the earliest time when the new fridge was being delivered)
It duly arrived around 10.30 and we had the usual performance from Winnie as the two delivery men were " encouraged" to make a fuss. One gave her a big kiss on the chops which sent her into paroxysms of delight........she's sulking now because no one else has knocked on the door!
So we have a fridge now......the Prof's life is no longer shite!
I've done some shopping and filled the fridge , then dropped Mary down the lane to Trendy Carol's house to play with her Welsh Terrier Bitch Seren ( see video)
I thought with Mary occupied I could then get on with painting unhindered.
Wrong!
I had just reached the gate when I spied Mrs Simmons walking down the lane.
She waved for me to stop.
" Bob's gravestone has been put in the churchyard" she said " I wondered if you would come with me to see it?"
It had been a year since I read the eulogy at her husband's funeral service.
The stone and inscription on the gravestone was simple and fitting and I told Mrs Simmons that as we
Stood amid the graves looking at it.
She can talk the hind leg off a donkey can Mrs Simmons , so as nice as she is, I was glad to see police personnel Ian and Jo walk up with their greyhound in tow for they took over the conversation nicely.
Anyhow speaking of the police, I was spoilt last night with a difficult choice of tv viewing/ radio listening. We had got back after a rather good Thai meal out when I realised that I had not see Bake off or listened to day three of Helen's trial in The Archers.
There was also a new reality cop show on sky ( The Force -Essex) to give the once over to
(The Prof always raises a Roger Moore eyebrow when reality cop shows come on the tv....he refers to my drooling addiction to men in uniform as Police Porn! ) ...oh.....and it was the Opening Ceremony of the Paralympics to watch.......so I was spoilt by choice.....
In the end I watched and listened to all four, so I didn't get to bed until the small hours.
And you wonder why I haven't lifted a paint brush up yet!?
I'm bloody knackered
Hey ho!
Student Mike leaves the bake off tent!
But it was Tom who made a loaf in the shape of a penis!
Big bearded cops in Essex..what's pornagraphic about that?
Yuk yuk
I recognised two of the team GB wheelchair competitors
From my spinal injury days
Order And Chaos
It was a huge change from the rough and tumble of caring for a personality disordered, confused and violent post op patient or an over stimulated autistic boy with a new tracheostomy.
Ventilated patients with all of the pumps and gizmo's that go with the seriously ill have to be nursed with strict orderliness and discipline.
It was nice to be so disciplined ..it was all very Zen.
It's not like that at home at the moment.
I'm in the middle of decorating , and the front room looks likes a bombs hit it, what with furniture piled high in the centre of the room.
The Prof had left the dogs have the run of the house when he left for work earlier and Mary had emptied the airing cupboard of its contents, scattering linens across the landing
Oh and I noticed that old William had backing into my one freshly painted wall by the stairs and had left a sloppy turd out in full view after being home but a couple of minutes
I left everything where it lay, filled my American coffee cup with blissfully hot strong coffee and took myself off to the field which was bathed in warm, early morning sunshine.
There , in full view of the road, I lay down amid the sheep, hens and geese and just gazed up at the clouds in the soft blue sky.
There is No mess and disorder in skywatching.
Trial
The Middle England collective are all putting down their supper dishes and are pouring glasses of a nice red in readiness for the vapid Helen Titchner to give her evidence in her trial for stabbing the moustache twirling Rob .
The Rob/ Helen storyline of the radio 4 show The Archers is now drawing to a close......I've just listened to the " rape revelation" while waiting to do an extra shift at work!
The coffee room was silent listening to the drama of it all!
What The Hell?
I just grabbed a clean T shift from the knicker drawer last night
I didn't notice which one, I was tired , I'd been decorating all day.
This morning I had a rather odd conversation with Basil the farmer
who was too poite to ask about it,
But his eyes kept dropping down to my front!
In a " what the hell?" Kind of way
Traffic Lights and A Fat Vagina
For years the village school children have run the risk of being splattered by speeding drivers on the village's one and only zebra crossing.
Readers of Going Gently may also remember that I have had several " near miss events" crossing the road with the dogs, one which necessitated flinging a bag of dog shit into the back of a careless van driver .
Such is life.
Now, for weeks in Trelawnyd, we have suffered a gaggle of over weight workmen who have seemed to be up to very little on the main road, outside the school.
Traffic has been disrupted by a temporary three way traffic light system, and Winnie has been transported into a state of permanent " moistness" by the fact that at least four blue collar workmen have been wolfwhistling her on a daily basis!
They just thought that the old gal was being friendly , but only I knew just how much of a let down she was, as she merrily waved her fat vagina at them from the pavement.
Anyhow, the upshot of all this activity, is that now Trelawnyd has it's very own Pelican crossing!
We now have a pedestrian controlled push button traffic light system complete with sound alarm ( for the visually impaired! ) and my claim to fame was that the dogs and I were the very first residents of Trelawnyd to have the privilege to use it!
How exciting!
Affable despot Jason was second in line for a button press and I am sure I spied Mrs Trellis giving the control box the once over before we left for home, but the real fun testing time for the bastard speeders will be this morning when the school children return for the Autumn term and scores of fat little fingers will reclaim the road once again!
Readers of Going Gently may also remember that I have had several " near miss events" crossing the road with the dogs, one which necessitated flinging a bag of dog shit into the back of a careless van driver .
Such is life.
Now, for weeks in Trelawnyd, we have suffered a gaggle of over weight workmen who have seemed to be up to very little on the main road, outside the school.
Traffic has been disrupted by a temporary three way traffic light system, and Winnie has been transported into a state of permanent " moistness" by the fact that at least four blue collar workmen have been wolfwhistling her on a daily basis!
They just thought that the old gal was being friendly , but only I knew just how much of a let down she was, as she merrily waved her fat vagina at them from the pavement.
Anyhow, the upshot of all this activity, is that now Trelawnyd has it's very own Pelican crossing!
We now have a pedestrian controlled push button traffic light system complete with sound alarm ( for the visually impaired! ) and my claim to fame was that the dogs and I were the very first residents of Trelawnyd to have the privilege to use it!
How exciting!
Affable despot Jason was second in line for a button press and I am sure I spied Mrs Trellis giving the control box the once over before we left for home, but the real fun testing time for the bastard speeders will be this morning when the school children return for the Autumn term and scores of fat little fingers will reclaim the road once again!
Ta Muchly
Thank you all for all of your comments, I have had so many that my blogger page has not downloaded them all, but rest assured that I have read all of the comments in my settings folder and have enjoyed them all
The post had it's desired effect......my 243rd comment
Was as follows
Thats an end to it all
The post had it's desired effect......my 243rd comment
Was as follows
You Fucking Smug Bastard Petra on Audit Time
|
Anonymous
|
at 22:44
|
Audit Time
Putrid Petra and her acid tongue brought up one interesting point as she poured vitriol upon the readers of Going Gently and that was her very own assessment on it's demographic
As she saw it, my " fan base" runs in a very linear way,and I quote
As she saw it, my " fan base" runs in a very linear way,and I quote
Anonymous4:31 pm
I am not envious in any way Jon, I just find Going Gently rather too sugary and at times a touch false for my tastes.
It panders to an audience of middle aged, sad women, as far as I can tell, oh with the occassional gay man thrown in to balance the books as well as the usual handful of drunks that blogging seems to attract nowadays. ( ring any bells Jon? )
I am anonymous because I am allowed to be.
But if you want to know my name, I am happy to share it.
It panders to an audience of middle aged, sad women, as far as I can tell, oh with the occassional gay man thrown in to balance the books as well as the usual handful of drunks that blogging seems to attract nowadays. ( ring any bells Jon? )
I am anonymous because I am allowed to be.
But if you want to know my name, I am happy to share it.
This post both insulted and amused me , as quite cleverly it insulted most of my readers without pausing to catch breath. I noted that particular bile was centred on long term reader Anne Marie who she referred to as a " cat owning fag hag"
Anne Marie had her very own way of dealing with the issue
Anne Marie had her very own way of dealing with the issue
we philadelphians tell it like it is. and NO ONE talks trash about one of my friends!
Delete
This made me cackle with amusement
All this bad humour has been somewhat interesting . I have more female readers cos blogging is populated more by female writers and readers. Plain and simple.
They are not sad, pussy owning fag hags with a need for a gay best friend nor are they drunks or balance making queens, even though a few must exist here....like they do anywhere
So what I am asking
Tell me your demographic ?
Age? Sex? Gender? Alcohol status? Knicker size?
Let's see if the old cow was right! Tee hee!
7d For Milk
Well Putrid Petra certainly put the cat amongst the pidgeons yesterday with her spunky bad manners. I took the anonymous block from the settings last night and returned to Going Gently this morning to see what damage she had inflicted only to note that she had not returned.
It's the fickle face of internet I guess.
Not a great deal happened yesterday. I finished washing down the living room walls with diluted sugar soap, and went to find Harmonica to tell her that the village Friendship group is interested in her keep fit programme.
On the way home with Mary, I noticed Auntie Gladys standing in the window of her house which was once the grandest in the village and on impulse I stopped and knocked on the door.
She wasn't having the best of mornings, I could tell .
She seemed rather vague but admitted that she needed milk , so I went home to fetch her some.
As I decanted some milk into a jug, I scoured the fridge ( still without it's door! ) for some tempting nibbles I could make up for Gladys' lunch ( we are still not quite sure just how well she is eating)
The Prof and I are on a bit of a health kick at the moment , so apart from vegetables , salad stuff and the obligatory pot of cottage cheese there wasn't much I could find but after a bit of rooting I did come across a packet of Geroge's special treat chicken meat balls
" needs must" I told George as I spooned a good half dozen on a plate with some cherry tomatos
And I wrapped everything in foil saving four for George's breakfast.
He watched the proceedings with bright black button eyes.
I then took Gladys her milk, and placed the meatballs into her fridge. Informing her that I had made too many for dinner last night .
" I don't think I've ever had a chicken meatball" she said " I shall enjoy giving them a try"
Her kitchen was, as usual spotless, and the kettle of the aga was heating up as it always does, but the old gal was looking tired and somewhat frail as I was leaving.
" I must pay you for the milk" Gladys reminded herself and rummaged around on the hall table for a moment.
She pressed 7 pence into my hand
" That should cover it" she said gently.
" That will do nicely" I told her.
It's the fickle face of internet I guess.
Not a great deal happened yesterday. I finished washing down the living room walls with diluted sugar soap, and went to find Harmonica to tell her that the village Friendship group is interested in her keep fit programme.
On the way home with Mary, I noticed Auntie Gladys standing in the window of her house which was once the grandest in the village and on impulse I stopped and knocked on the door.
She wasn't having the best of mornings, I could tell .
She seemed rather vague but admitted that she needed milk , so I went home to fetch her some.
As I decanted some milk into a jug, I scoured the fridge ( still without it's door! ) for some tempting nibbles I could make up for Gladys' lunch ( we are still not quite sure just how well she is eating)
The Prof and I are on a bit of a health kick at the moment , so apart from vegetables , salad stuff and the obligatory pot of cottage cheese there wasn't much I could find but after a bit of rooting I did come across a packet of Geroge's special treat chicken meat balls
" needs must" I told George as I spooned a good half dozen on a plate with some cherry tomatos
And I wrapped everything in foil saving four for George's breakfast.
He watched the proceedings with bright black button eyes.
I then took Gladys her milk, and placed the meatballs into her fridge. Informing her that I had made too many for dinner last night .
" I don't think I've ever had a chicken meatball" she said " I shall enjoy giving them a try"
Her kitchen was, as usual spotless, and the kettle of the aga was heating up as it always does, but the old gal was looking tired and somewhat frail as I was leaving.
" I must pay you for the milk" Gladys reminded herself and rummaged around on the hall table for a moment.
She pressed 7 pence into my hand
" That should cover it" she said gently.
" That will do nicely" I told her.
Everyone's A Critic
This is the latest critique of a blog post I have recieved overnight
Looking at my comments box, I was mildly surprised to have received over fifty seperate comments over four or five years of blogging entries. The comments are from "anonymous" ( I thought I couldn't receive anonymous comments) and most have a similar gist of complaint
Anonymous10:04 am
She said Fuck all Dickhead.
You really love yourself don't you?
that is pefectly evident with all this bigging up of your life and just how wonderful you think you are.
Saviour of animal kind.
Saviour of strange non existent small town characters
Saviour of fucking dogs treated like children
Saviour
Saviour
Boring and self congratulating pap
Oh dear. My blog entry today was going to centre around Mary's latest obsession
She now delights in accompanying me to the toilet, where she is quietly obsessed with watching all solids being flushed away.
On reflection , I think I'll just leave you with the photo illustration
It kind of sums up how one person feels
Hey ho
You really love yourself don't you?
that is pefectly evident with all this bigging up of your life and just how wonderful you think you are.
Saviour of animal kind.
Saviour of strange non existent small town characters
Saviour of fucking dogs treated like children
Saviour
Saviour
Boring and self congratulating pap
Oh dear. My blog entry today was going to centre around Mary's latest obsession
She now delights in accompanying me to the toilet, where she is quietly obsessed with watching all solids being flushed away.
On reflection , I think I'll just leave you with the photo illustration
It kind of sums up how one person feels
Hey ho
Innuendo
Candice- a star in the making
Episode 2 of The Great British Bake Off had some cracking double entendres
Mel flirted with the camp Rav about how stiff his icing was with the purr " Can I warm your bag with my hands?"
Mary agreed to do a bit of carpet munching
And best of all, when Candice brought forward her model gingerbread pub , she asked Mel to help with the call " Can you come and grab my jugs?" ( jugs of ale of course)
Thoroughly British
Thoroughly filthy
and Thoroughly funny!
What Do You Do All Day?
Like Musical Notes on a stave, the three bantam cockerels spend some of their morning perched happily on the field gate watching the world as it goes by.
I photographed them after I heard one of the village schoolchildren laughing at them as he passed with his mother.
" Are they budgies ?" He asked
I didn't hear her reply for I was busy washing the cream painted beams in the living room, which over the years have become peppered with soot and smoke from the log burner.
I am preparing the living room for repainting and it's a thankless dirty job
Yesterday I swept the chimney ( a job I quite enjoy) then took down the wall paintings and the grimy Gaudy Welsh Jugs from their display shelf to clean.
It's amazing just how much soot and dust dampens a room and has the ability to suck the life colour from it.
Today I will wash the walls as well as the ceiling. Then our Laura Ashley green curtains with the sweet cornflower pattern will be washed for the first time in a decade
Oh and I have just treated a new field resident for lice, which is another rather unsavoury job. It's the latest sob story, another " can you just? " request........a shy Sussex cockerel unwanted and disliked.......now has a chance to have his face in the sun for the remainder of the summer
And a colleague at work recently asked me what I did all day?
I photographed them after I heard one of the village schoolchildren laughing at them as he passed with his mother.
" Are they budgies ?" He asked
I didn't hear her reply for I was busy washing the cream painted beams in the living room, which over the years have become peppered with soot and smoke from the log burner.
I am preparing the living room for repainting and it's a thankless dirty job
Yesterday I swept the chimney ( a job I quite enjoy) then took down the wall paintings and the grimy Gaudy Welsh Jugs from their display shelf to clean.
It's amazing just how much soot and dust dampens a room and has the ability to suck the life colour from it.
Today I will wash the walls as well as the ceiling. Then our Laura Ashley green curtains with the sweet cornflower pattern will be washed for the first time in a decade
Oh and I have just treated a new field resident for lice, which is another rather unsavoury job. It's the latest sob story, another " can you just? " request........a shy Sussex cockerel unwanted and disliked.......now has a chance to have his face in the sun for the remainder of the summer
And a colleague at work recently asked me what I did all day?
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