On A Lonely Road

Have you ever broken down on a pitch Black Country road in the middle of the night?
I have.
Last night!
Around nine pm I was driving to my Sams shift when I took a call on my mobile. I stopped at a layby , just south of the village to take it and got talking to an old friend for good while
Foolishly I had left my side lights on and when I eventually set off, the car battery was dead as a dodo
It was chucking it down too!
I was in a pickle, so I did who so many Trelawnyd-ites do when things go tits up...I rang village elder Islwyn to see if he could help.. As it turned out he hadn't got any jumpleads and so I rang my breakdown company and prepared myself for a long wait.

Now the dark does not spook me much, but sitting in the dark,surrounded by trees away from the main road is a somewhat stressful experience especially as my mobile's battery was low and I am an old queen with a vivid imagination ! ( I almost wet my panties watching The Blair Witch Project)
Around ten twenty pm I spied a car's headlights though the rain . It was Islwyn , who had decided to come out to see if things were alright. Kindly he offered to keep me company for an hour.
Now Islwyn is a raconteur of some note so I was kept amused and diverted from thoughts of serial killers and monsters in the dark until he too finally had to go and I was left for a further half hour wait for the breakdown lorry to arrive.
I made sure the central locking was on
And finally got home just before midnight

The Lady With Fabulous Shoes

Do you remember the lady with fabulous shoes?
She arrived the other day at the same time as the Superfast Internet workman who was sexually molested by a certain bulldog that we all know.
She also had a dark expensive looking suit on that Trendy Carol would have fallen in love with , and so sensibility kept out of bulldog hair range by sitting at the kitchen table with me.
That lady with fabulous shoes was an estate agent.
We are planning to leave Trelawnyd.
It's time for adventures new.
The Welsh countryside has been a delightful backdrop to village life and village characters, especially for me, before this a complete countryside virgin. The community has taught me how to be a part of something and has given me a sense of self within that bubble so to speak.
The village has been very good to us.
And we in turn have been very good to it.
But all good things have to come to an end.

My Retirement has freed us from weekends that revolved around invasive night shifts looking after the critically ill and we are now feeling drawn again back to a life where just popping out to a wine bar, a museum,a cinema, some culture ! doesn't have to be planned and where someone has to drive for bleeding miles to achieve.
And so at some time Going Gently as we know it, will be finishing. It is a blog that started because of our move to " The Town full of wheat" which is Trelawnyd and it is fitting that here it will be ending.
It was always meant to be a diary of a man not sure that he had made the right move and it became a story of just how adaptive people can be.
I embraced the change we went through and I shall always be grateful for what that gave me.

I will however start a new blog on the day we eventually leave,  ( 3 terriers, a sexually provocative bulldog, one cat with a damaged leg and a Professor all in the same car, heading for pastures new ....now that should make for some interesting reading don't you think........?
I do hope that when the time comes , some of you will follow me.......

Some days....

.It's best to go with the flow

Death Goes On

The Walking Dead ( Ep 14) 
had a lot going on........
Tara has forgiven Dwight. Morgan is still mad as a badger ( mad storylines get on my tits on The Walking Dead) Nabilla walked into shot holding a pitchfork and Rick " the Prick" became a mr nasty liar again cos he hasn't read Carl's letter and killed that attractive saviour with the beard!
Add to the mix A normal looking Jadis and a regretful Negan, that bloody helicopter again,Carol dealing with another potential child's death ( boy can she act) and that turd baddie Jared finally getting his just dues and it's easy to see that the strands of story are all whirling around each other for the finale in only two episodes time.
Central to the finale is ( I am hoping ) hope ! Hope and humanity....in Carl's letter me thinks
Oh and a bit more humour please.

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"