My Life In A Line

I'm selling an Art Deco Grandmother clock which has been hidden away in a corner of the bedroom for over a decade. I'm selling it on line.
It's a small typical-of-it's-time piece that I won't make a fortune on
But I need the money at the moment.

A chap came over to the cottage yesterday to view the clock, and although he liked it, it was a tad too small for where he had in mind for it to go however it was not entirely a wasted journey as he is interested in buying our old Deco dining room table which lies dust covered in old Trevor's garage.

Before he left, my visitor commented on the line of framed objects lined up on top of the kitchen radiator. He liked the " look" of the collection and thought the informality of the subjects interesting.
He was bound to be gay, I thought, only gay blokes think at this level
I went through the collection

A photo of some the Former Flowet Show committee 

Derek, sailor John, matriarch Irene, Cameron theboffin, Terry, Trendy Carol ( in nice blue top) and smiling Ann

Next to an ink sketching of an alpine villa bought from a little antique shop in Sheffield

The Randa girl's painting for their art entry for the Flower Show a few years back

an antique square of Kimono bought from the now closed Takashimaya store on 5th Avenue , New York I had framed in Sheffield next to AngryParsnips envelope cartoons of the cottage animals

" You're life in a line!" The man noted

A Tissue On A Chair

Before we start this is a positive post

My solicitor is a very Welsh, bright, compassionate woman.
She took her time with our meeting and pursed her lips in empathy when I went white as she outlined the costs of her representation.
I burst into tears when she asked me about what was eventually going to happen to the dogs, we had already stood up and was in the process of saying our goodbyes .
And then I sort of bolted for the door.
The solicitor works in an impressive set of offices built within the confines of an old Chapel. The Chapel is a stones thrown from the only local cathedral and blotchy faced I took myself up High Street across a small green and into the cathedral proper where I found a quiet dark spot and sat down on a red chair to gather my thoughts.
Places of worship are calm, cool silent places. If I had been in Trelawnyd and had felt the same, I would have taken myself off to St Michaels
I hadn't been sat there that long, perhaps only a few minutes when I sensed a movement to my left. A faceless woman stopped briefly and placed a paper napkin  on the seat next to me
" There's tea and coffee to the right of the door" she half whispered before moving on

And I blew my nose, and felt a bit better.

Just Before Dawn

There is a verse in the Everything But The Girl song We Walk The Same Line which goes

And I bet you could tell me 
How slowly four follows three
And you're most forlorn
Just before dawn

I've never suffered from insomnia.
I'm not suffering from it now, but this morning I was wide awake at 4 am lying in bed with my eyes as large and round as a bushbaby's.
I have a reason to be awake.
I have a solicitor's appointment later this morning.
So thoughts have been running through my head with the constant roar of tube trains through acentral line tunnel.
I've cleaned the kitchen floor. I've walked four disgruntled dogs and I've had breakfast.
I've rearranged every cushion in the living room after Winnie had scattered them last night and I've read the on line paper.

Apparently insomnia is on the rise and  the reason for this is said to be our increasing use of smart phones and iPads.
Like I said, I usually sleep like a baby, so this in-the -middle -of -the-night thing is a new horror for me.

Aznavour

I didn't know Charles Aznovour was gay friendly
Only today did I learn a bit more about the singer, someone who peppered my childhood 1970s with a oh so individual sounding soundtrack.
This was a brave song for him to sing, for What Makes a Man is the story of a drag queen living a lonely life with his mother. It's a melancholic piece in the vein of Eponine's On My Own from Les Miserables  and Aznavour's unique delivery somehow makes the whole thing slightly more tragic .

The tragic drag queen is such a mainstay of queer culture it's now become an accepted norm. Having said this, my only experience of drag was a few awful cabaret pub performances - a backdrop to my salad days and Harvey Feirsten's Torch Song Trilogy 
Oh and back in 1987 I once found myself slumped at the bar of Roxy  nightclub in York next to the ugliest drag queen I have ever seen.
She had two day old stubble, a nasty permed black wig and a long ill fitting sheath gown on and she was swigging from a bottle of what looked like pale ale.
And as she took a drag from her cigarette and fixed me with a drunken red eyed look I chirped up with a " Christ you look like my mother!" remark.
I never saw the punch coming ......

Big Voice

Mary got charged by a loose Dalmatian  yesterday.
It had its head up and meant business,
Mary was on her lead
I employed my usual , well used defences, at it ran forward.
I stood in front of Mary with my hand up and bellowed " NOOOOOOOOOOOOO!" at the top of my voice
The Dalmatian stopped short suddenly unsure of itself.
Another " Nooooo!" had it turning on its heels
I didn't care that it's owner thought I was a loon

This behaviour can work with bullying people too!
I remember being stopped in the village by a man who wanted to take me to task about something I had written on the blog.
I brought the confrontation to a finite end by raising my voice to a level which could be heard over a thousand yards followed by a definite and rather forceful  "Fuck off!"

I always liked the story repeated by ( I think) the actress Shiela Hancock who had a friend who would always yell " OUT BEFORE IN!!!"  to waiting commuters standing nose to nipple in front of her train door after she arrived at every station .
People are like dogs and any animal.  They need to know exactly where they stand.

Miriam Margolyes, that famous darling of the late night chat show often trolls out a " shocking" story of when she was once frotted against by a man on the tube.
In her best Lady Bracknell voice she said she bellowed the unlikely response of " WILL YOU GET YOUR COCK OUT OF MY ARSE!!!!!" a statement that may soften any erection in a second as well as get a chat show audience to love you.

Being loud can empower
But it also can get your head kicked in

Sunday

For the first time since everything

I felt very lonely today

I'm tired 

Nite nite

Night Out

Blowing away the cobwebs on a blustery beach today

Last night I went out with Bunty and her new girlfriend Katy.
I was still hung over from my night shift and tried to give Bunty a raincheck text but she was having non of it. They picked me up just before eight and we were in a gay pub in Chester by a quarter to nine.
Bunty checked me over after we had exited the car.
"Nice new pants Graybags!" She bellowed pointing at my clean trousers
"Sainsbury's " I told her
Bunty rolled her eyes
It's been a while since I've been in a gay anywhere!
The pub was loud, good humoured and busy and apart from a somewhat sticky moment where Bunty tried to introduce me to an uninterested but polite bear cub half my age, the night went ok.
I would have preferred a quieter venue but Bunty was on a roll

As Bunty got happily drunk and flirted in a loud goodnatured way with everyone, male and female Katy and I had a long chat . Katy, I liked immediately, she has a job working with abused women and deals with sex trafficing issues locally so the conversation was a rather illuminating and interesting one to me, a bloke who has absolutely no experience in such issues and the two of us carried on the conversation on the way home as Bunty snored away on the back seat.

When we neared the village Bunty was still asleep but she rallied briefly at  the suggestion of a McDonalds stop off.
" We'll go gay clubbing next time" she suggested as she bolted down a handful of fries and I was grateful for a wink and shake of the head from Katy which said don't worry- it's not going to happen- I know you are not up to that!
At the top of the lane I said my big sloppy burger tasting goodbye kisses with Bunty and a more civilised peck with Katy who , as I started to get out of the car, squeezed my hand  " Chin up dearheart" she said
She obviously reads my blog

Swaps Coffee Morning

The Trelawnyd Community Association holds a regular coffee morning and book swap which seems to have now interested not only the ever faithful greyhairs but many of the younger families with children
This morning the hall was almost full, well full enough for Bridget from Well street to set up an extra  table, and when Mary and I got there Mrs Trellis was already walking away with an arm load of swapped books. " The Nights are drawing in!" She said showing me her large print Catherine Cookson's and what suspiciously looked like a Jackie Collins tucked in at the bottom." I'm just getting my reading matter sorted!" She trilled
I hadn't had breakfast after my first night shift , so Gwawr in the kitchen rustled me up a fat bastard slice of coffee cake and strong coffee and I joined Ann and an eye rolling Terry at their table as she regailed the other villagers about our zip Wire adventure .
I stayed an hour, swapped a book for a French DVD ( and at the same time noticing that my collection of donated LGBT themed donated DVDs had already gone ! - how interesting!!!) , said a few more hellos and got subscripted into a potential art initiative  by the chair of the new village arts group but after realising that I oh so needed a kip as I looked like Ken Dodd on speed, I made my excuses that I needed my bed.....and left as the sun finally came out

Before Shift

Just a chatty post today....Those of you that have ever known night shifts before will understand it when I say today feels like a nothing sort of day.
It's as though you are waiting for something to happen, a bit like the run up to a concert or a wedding,
The time spent waiting seems wasted somehow...but of course it isn't.
I walked Mary on her power walk, and sat down to make lists of what I planned to do between my new nursing shifts in the next month. I always need to use a calendar
There's a few things to do:- Choir, a theatre trip with friends to see the all female version of Lord of the flies, a dinner party, fat club, Sams shifts , a social with Gorgeous George, a visit with my solicitor 😟. There's also the allotments to dig too....and I still miss the ponies.
Nick from the Community Association has just knocked on the side window ( I thought it may be Hattie wanting to borrow Mary again as company on her regular walks )
Nick reminded me of the book swap coffee morning tomorrow.
I promised I'd go
I had low fat noodles with mushrooms and quorn for lunch.
I am not a lover of quorn , it feels like I'm eating a cut up sanitary towel .
I completed the recycling and ironed a clean white shirt for my shift ( I'm wearing a smart shirt as I can't fit into any of their uniforms as yet.

As the dogs sleep on surrounded by halos of sun, I listen to the gentle podcasts tales of the Oslo detective Annika Standed and Bill Nighy's Charles Paris mysteries knowing full well that I will fall
 asleep in the armchair quite soon.
I've told the iPad to wake me at 5 pm if I do so
Life plods on
I'll leave you with this delightfully funny clip of call my bluff...watch it to the end

By The River

Mary and I are still by the Elwy River. I've taken the car in for 

its MOT and we have to wait an hour or so which isnt a trial given the view.

See Winnie's river story at

https://disasterfilm.blogspot.com/2015/08/the-river-wild.html

Fucking Hell

I'll write about it later

Love the " Dead" suspended look at the end

The experience is a comprehensive terror fest

On the Tenko lorry

First you have to suffer the indignity of squeezing your fat arse into the sausage-skin red boiler suit, then you embark on a " baby" zip wire experience which is JUST a hundred feet up in the air before suffering the trauma of sitting in an open sided truck which looked as though it featured in Tenko as it crept up the side of a thousand foot mountain before looking over a shear drop over an azure blue lake .

My knuckles were still while when I gratefully exited the the lorry, and as Ann babbled away to the surfer dude safety teen to check her harness for the third time , we found ourselves lying face down on what suspiciously looked like alarge doctor's couch before being launched into the great blue yonder like 100 mile an hour podgy sausages wrapped in pastry.

The experience is totally unique, as you really do feel as though you are flying
As you can see, I looked quite dead with relief when I was finally hauled to the ground by a girl with brandishing what suspiciously looked like a shepherds crook.

I can die happy....today's total donations mostly from blog readers £ 5200.00 xxxxx

Without You....

Without you, I would have collected just a few hundred pounds for Samaritans
With you, the final total is just a hundred pounds short of five grand!
Five Thousand Pounds!
And that is down to you!
People from all over The world sending money, and cheques and best wishes and love to someone they have never met for a cause most have never used.
That is sweet
That is a pay it forward moment
That is kind.

So wish me luck today.
I'll post photographic proof and hopefully a video later
Don't look too hard at my fat arse in the boiler suit..will ya?

https://mydonate.bt.com/fundraisers/johngray1

" Shoals" Of Birds and more Thank Yous

Sometimes the planets align just so.....and you experience something rather special out of the mundane and the ordinary.
On sunny days the view over the village rooftops from the Gop (The hill behind Trelawnyd) can almost take your breath away.
It's not just the way the houses, cottages hall and church snuggle against the green fields to the West and South that please, it's the large flock of racing pigeons that always seem to circle and re circle the village at speed that brings a smile to your face.
For those that don't know racing pigeons can fly at best between 80 to 90 miles an hour, and so a flock flying in tight circles often resemble a glittering shoal of fish , especially then the sun catches their different facets as they swoop almost at ever changing right angles over the rooftops.
I watched them as I listened to this piece of random music chose by Spotify and got lost in the very beautiful drama of the moment....

Just a few thank yous to end with as now we have only 24 hours before the zip Wire Challenge ....
The approximate donation total for our Samaritans' Centre stands just shy of £ 4,650.00
So thank you to Colin & Jenny, heather, Ann, Elaine, Granny G, Michelle, Christina , anons x 4, Emma, Kate, Jenny Strawberry Mouse, Grace , Sandra , Sailor John and Mandy, Louenna and Ralph,

The donation page remains at ( click on)

https://mydonate.bt.com/fundraisers/johngray1#donationSummary

A Microwave Dinner

For some small part of each week we are still sharing the same small cottage.
Two men in five rooms.
It's driving me ever slowly........ nuts.
I'm finding it so hard that
I'm now living alongside a stranger who is not a stranger.
someone who has the starting's of a whole new life.
Someone who I want to shake until their teeth rattle.

I'm doing the busy thing.
Samaritans tonight, Choir tomorrow....a work shift ( my first) on Friday night......Zip wire on Wednesday
but I cant heal until I am  properly alone without the infrequent daily reminders of intimacy past and routines well trod.
I'm not bitter, its too early to be bitter......but I am still sensitive and angry, very angry and I hate being angry....hence me sitting here in an empty Samaritans office, an hour and a half early for shift......eating my microwaved tea at my telephone station.
I didn't want to be home as we manoeuvre around each other at supper time .
I don't want to be upset or angry or petulant, things that I invariably am when I am reminded I was only married three years ago
I want all that to be over........
..... and I want to start to heal.

Albert & Winnie

The relationship between Albert and Winnie is a simple one
Albert adores Winnie, but doesn't know when to rein in the lurve
Winnie benignly understands Albert
This video is the end of a " love in" between the two which lasted several minutes
One that ended with Albert getting too physical
And Winnie sighing heavily with the effort of it all.
This interaction happens at least once a day.
The relationship between species is always a complex one
But is something quite magical to watch

" Lightens the heart, Brightens the soul"

The Village War Memorial has had a facelift over recent months.
It has been a project led by farmer Alun Hughes.
Alun " Med" had noticed that the memorial had looked rather unloved of late and has made it his mission to do something about it.
Through some serious research he found out that through accident or design five local men names had been left off the War Memorial. He liaised with the powers that be and had the mens' names reinstated as well as organising for a general face lift of the area with members of Community council .
I found him reviewing his work this morning.
I've always thought of Alun as a gentle, thoughtful man and that assessment proved to be right after I congratulated him on his work.
" It lightens the heart and brightens the soul" he said quietly .

Big Hunk Of Spunk

I experienced my first man crush in the mid 1970s

I was watching an old western on tv and on the screen ambled the actor Clint Walker and from  that moment on I think I'd always had an eye for a set of broad shoulders and an easy smile.

Yesterday at the vets I found staring at a strapping farmer type who was collecting livestock medication and I was caught looking by one of the receptionist 

We both had the good grace to blush just a little

The Little Stranger

Post war austerity is the perfect backdrop to the " gothic" ghost story that is The Little Stranger.
In a large country house in decline, a disfigured RAF survivor, his sister and mother are trying to keep the wolves from the door. Their isolated existence is upset by the arrival of a local doctor whose mother was a maid at the house before the Great War and indeed his presence seems to be a catalyst for a whole series of supernatural events to unfold which ultimately lead to tragedy and madness.

The tight arsed Domhnall Gleeson

With lots to say about the class system of Britain between the wars The Little Stranger is a beautifully shot and atmospheric piece which utilises every dark ghostly house cliche  in the history of cinema. But it does so with the benefit of some interesting characterisation and performances .
The visiting doctor ( Domhnall Gleeson ) is a repressed , somewhat cold fish of a man with more class chips on his shoulder than soft Mick. He is attracted to the daughter of the house ( a magical turn by Ruth Wilson) who portrays one of those capable upper class women who is devoid of vanity bordering on eccentricity. She blossomed with the experiences of wartime service ( with one pivotal scene where an old WRAF friend turns up unexpectedly at a dance suggesting her true sexuality) but..now is drowning in the isolation of the decaying family house.

Their scenes together flit effortlessly between a rather sweet charm to an ultimately icy malevolence.  
I guessed the final twist in the tale a third of the way through the movie, which was a bit of a shame, but I enjoyed the bloody shocks when they arrived ( a scene where a visiting child gets mauled by the family dog behind a living room curtain is especially nerve wracking ) and the performance by Wilson is worth the price of a cinema ticket alone
7/10

Ruth Wilson

Animals Make Mess

We had torrential rain here all yesterday and I almost went stir crazy.
The bantam cockerels ( who have been called somewhat bizarrely Ivanka and Donald by the neighbours) sought shelter on the windowsill of the bathroom window ( which I had left open ) and subsequently shat all over the toiletries and sink until Albert forced them outside again during a brief skirmish after which they chatted angrily at him  from the safety of the Church wall.

Donald & Ivanka ( you may need to squint)

Winnie, in the meantime , has decided that she hates sofa cushions with a vengeance and when she is left for more than a couple of minutes alone in the living room will proceed to kick every one within eyesight off the sofa and around the room.
Only after each one has been booted away will she then rip off a sofa throw ( which has been previously draped rather artistically over the sofa arm by yours truly ) and will make a nest of it before making herself very comfortable thank you very much.
This behaviour takes place several times a day, so it's a bit like having a fat hairy toddler running amok about the place.

Cushion phobia

William's habit of pooing on upright surfaces remains a constant as his eyesight fails and he approaches his twelfth birthday. I found a rather tenacious turd glued to the side grandfather clock this morning which had camoflagued itself perfectly with the patina of the rich mahogany .

You've got to have eyes in the back of your head

Your Last Kindness

Yesterday I was on the receiving end of a little kindness
Gayle, a blogger from the Sunny desert of the far west of the United States, sent me a walking dead package of goodies.
It was a generous gift where even the package was decorated with a hand drawn sketch of my menagerie .
The postman commented on the sketch with some enthusiasm

This morning I was called to the house of a neighbour to check on them after a fall. All I could do was to reassure them before they were visited by the health services, but I was thanked for my kindness.
I wasn't being kind...I was being neighbourly
Gayle was being kind. Her gift was designed to give some pleasure and some support  and I was greatly touched by it.

When was the last time someone was kind to you..?  And what did they do?
I think we would all benefit from reading a few heartwarming tales....
Over to you