People Day

 It’s a kind of I’m fed up of people day today

Someone I like and respect has taken something I’ve said in such the wrong way I’ve been rendered practically speechless. 
Of course I’m not speechless and I’ve replied with candour and surprise and have apologised even though I am 100% sure it’s a case of over sensitivity and misinterpretation .
I remain vaguely insulted by the whole situation.

My ghoster eventually replied too, with the sentence I just feel there is nothing on my side. He also asked if we could keep in touch. I’ve told him no but I wished him well.

Both situations have left a bad taste in my mouth.

I’ve just been out walking Roger too and got shouted at by a man on a bike who felt I was in his way 
I was but Roger was too frightened to move 



Training Day


Roger needs a settling in day today. 
The household needs one.
He has no experience of cars and little of being walked on a lead , so that was our first job this morning after his restful night in his crate in the kitchen with Mary sleeping in the reading chair next to him

He hasn’t got a clue with the lead so I left it slack and let Dorothy gallop in front.
With her circulating back and running past him, he soon got the idea that walking forward was the plan  and although our progress was stilted, it was a start.

He hasn’t eaten much, but that doesn’t concern me as he happily ran off with a toast crust earlier and has spent the rest of his time copying the others when they have run out to the kitchen wall to greet Jo ( without her Great Dane) and Islwyn who had come to collect the old washing machine with his brother Eric
Trefor called too, but was too anxious to acknowledge the new guy, he’s got worries about British Telicom 
Which I managed to sort out.

When the Amazon delivery man came ,Roger  joined in with the barking more dutifully than not, and when Albert appeared from his feline slumbers at noon, he made a point of backing up five steps to allow the cat space to reach his food bowl on the windowsill 
He’s brighter than William but seems to have William’s gentlemanly  nature, politely ignoring Dorothy’s regular low growls of mild irritation when he ables too close 
He is presently sat at my feet, next to the kitchen table 

He smells  of his old  kennel so we will all be going into the shower together later.
He’s never walked up a house staircase before either, another skill he will learn shortly when the dogs follow me up in order to watch me make the bed.

I call him by his name frequently and cuddle him as soon as he comes to me 
In typical Welsh style he crossed his front paws around my arm to hold me firm.
I am so happy with him 

The guy I dated eleven days ago has ghosted me which is a shame. 
His loss. 
I’m an acquired taste,
I know that


I’m cleaning out drawers today. Gently pottering as Roger finds his feet 

Roger

 


Six months old and with the typical calm, watching nature of a Welsh Terrier. I picked Roger up today from Nottingham as if I’ve known him for years.
Not a silly puppy anymore , he is a careful old soul who has walked into a household complicated by a bulldog’s Diva baggage, Mary’s squeaky duck and his very first cat. 
So far so good . 
Albert received some half arsed woofs then faced him off on the bottom stair, forcing Roger to back off after looking at the other dogs for their "surprising" non reaction.
Now, only an hour later, they are passing each other in the kitchen doorway like regular commuters going to work.
Dorothy staked her claim immediately and lay on the couch with her head on my knee and growled half heartedly when Roger ambled by busy at sniffing the carpet. 
Mary ignored him after their initial interaction but is watching him at all times through the corner of her eye. 

I pretended not to watch
And let out a large held breath


It’s caught me a little by surprise 
But he looks the spitting image of Old William 
I wonder if he will gleefully chase bees around the garden?

Asleep at 20.30

I’m holding my breath again 
Roger now on my knee next to a sleeping Dorothy 
20.49 pm
Jesus! 



For Debby no!!!!! I mean Lizzy

 Sunday has been a productive day .
After a brief sleep, my brother-in-law came round to help me install my new washing machine. 
( not the easiest job in the world as it turned out) 
The humidity here is 65% , so we were dripping by the time it was up and running with my undercrackers leaping in soapy happy circles.
My brother in law has been a godsend to our entire family over the years as he’s one of those men who can turn his hand to anything practical and I’ve always been very grateful for his consistent smiling support over the years. 
This afternoon , the old washing machine my husband bought is now waiting for the village scrap iron man on the patio and the new all singing all dancing computer confusing washer is working perfectly 
I popped a gift of a litre of nice gin and some internet bought gin glasses to him at teatime 
The glasses were made in Spain which is apt.

I will leave you with some photos of my living room , especially for Debby
And as promised , I haven’t  tidied  up.
I’ve already bought and paid for new carpets for the cottage but these won’t be laid until late September. A few weeks to allow for Roger’s bladder to be  trained by the girls me thinks …..the same carpet will run into every room including the bedrooms







Then the cottage will be finally finished for the time being.
I’m picking him up at 11 am from Alfreton 
His purchase will signal a twenty year relationship with his breeder and from what I understand will probably be my last chance to buy a dog from her which is a poignant thought.
Roger will be my last terrier ….and one of a long line of lovely dogs …Finlay, Maddie, Meg, William, George, and Mary

I’ll Leave The Landing Light On…..

 
Someone I know, has had cancer recently diagnosed.
A mutual friend told me. 
It wasn’t a secret. 
I messaged them and simply said I had met my friend, nothing more
and the link was made
The ball was in their court and we messaged briefly about it
“ I’m here” I said
I know you are” came the reply. 

Sometimes too many words can be said at times like these. 
A Card, a cooked meal, the offer of a silent walk, a theatre ticket 
Can support someone who is hurting just as well.
The offer of taking Mary for a cuddle 
A book of poems with a bright orange cover, 
A crisp 10 dollar bill with the  instructions of buying an ice cream.

I remember bedtime as a seven year old 
Who was always frightened of the dark. 
A simple action,
A single promise always made things better

I’ll leave the landing light on “ 

Hot Afternoon

 Yesterday I met some friends from the village to discuss planning an open day for the new pond. It was a case of mixing work with pleasure as the meeting took place in a dappled green garden under the trees, with wine glasses and beers in our hands.

It’s felt that my holiday has just been extended by several days .
I’ve agreed to help manage the Flower Show again and next year it ( as well as the novelty vegetable photograph competition so enjoyed by blog readers ) shall return. 
It felt the right thing to do.
Last night I caught up with my family again for a Spanish supper in my sister in law’s garden. 
It was her first dinner party post lockdown, another milestone for her, and a pleasure for us as she cooks very well. 
So today is a non day as I’m working a single shift tonight.



It’s far too hot to walk the dogs more than 100 yards which makes Dorothy listless and sulking.
I’ve already sat her under a cold shower earlier and now she smells of body shop pink Grapefruit soap but is still unhappy at not being able travel in the car.
I gave her the meat from a left over lamb chop in an effort to buck her up but that failed miserably 
Roger arrives on Monday
I wonder what that little bombshell will have on the bulldog diva.


To Kill A Mockingbird

 
I met Nu in a cocktail bar on Frith Street (she had picked it as it was air conditioned) we then went along to Suvvlaki the best Greek restaurant in soho where we ate Greek tapas to die for , sat at an open window facing the street and watched the world go by.
I still felt as though was on holiday
We walked into Chinatown where we ate obscene ice creams at bubble wrap waffle before the theatre
Bliss



Most of us of a certain age have grown up with the goodness that is Atticus Finch in To Kill A Mocking Bird, 
His quote 
“You never really understand a person until you consider things from his point of view...until you climb into his skin and walk around in it.”

is one that follows a person through life, even though he was a fictitious lawyer in a non existent Southern town.

To Kill A Mocking Bird was not without its faults and I wondered how these would be addressed to a modern audience, most of whom loved the book as a child and saw it through a child’s eyes.
Aaron Sorkin’s production is a bold interpretation with the famous court scene divided into segments sandwiched in between the growing up stories of Scout and Jem Finch and their best friend Dil in rural Alabama.

Rafe Spall is no Gregory Peck in the lead role as Atticus. He isn’t polished and serene, and hasn’t that quiet heroic look.But his small town lawyer, is gentle, and humorous and brittle enough to still cry at the mention of his wife’s death. He is more flawed that his screen counterpart, but still retains those decent qualities most loved by Harper Lee’s fans.



The three children of the story are all played by young adults, and this works well thanks  primarily to the actors playing Scout and Dill. Gwyneth Keyworth is exceptional as Scout, ad-libbing with the audience in her broad Southern drawl when they were late in settling down and David Moost, who gives Dill an odd sense of a young, very camp Truman Capote ( he was Harper Lee’s Best friend) 

In the novel the housekeeper come nanny, Calpurnia didnt quite have a proper voice when the unfairness of racism was raised but Sorkin’s Calpurnia is not adverse in challenging even Atticus in his beliefs and behaviour and in one pivitol scene screams out what she thinks of the all white Jury who are sitting in judgement of Robinson ( a wonderful Jude Owusu)
The actress Pamela Nomvete turning from hired help to a roaring lioness impressively.



The new play has a great deal to say about the America, that still exists , most noticeably seen in the Trump years. Those disaffected and mistrusting of intellectual contact.

To kill A Mockingbird was a triumph , and a real rollercoaster of a play to experience.
It is one which will linger in the mind for a long while to come 



Told Off

 Mrs Trellis told me off this morning for watering the planters in the heat of late morning.
I apologised but told her as I was going to London today it was the only time I could do so.


She pursed her lips 
“ Another holiday? She asked.
I knew she was pissed at me, I can always read the signs now 
She has vocalised before that sometimes I leave the dogs too often with Trendy Carol and her hubby
I reminded her that I was only away overnight
A treat for my birthday.
She pulled the brim of  her white laced sun hat down and walked on with a warning “ Keep out of the sun”
The girls down at Trendy Carol’s barked their welcome at the garden gate and she stopped to coo at them

I hate being in Mrs Trellis’ bad books
It’s like being told off by a favourite aunt
She reminds me of Calpurnia, Atticus Finch’s housekeeper in some ways

 “She’s a faithful member of this family and you’ll simply have to accept things the way they are...Besides, I don’t think the children have suffered one bit from her having brought them up. If anything, she’s been harder on them in some ways than a mother would have been… she’s never let them get away with anything”

I took her advice and dressed in shorts and T shirt I’m sat on the train southwards. Apparently it’s 90 degrees in the capital so shorts will have to do for the Theatre 
I’m not staying with Nu in West London but have booked the Z Hotel in Covent Garden
I need to be back home earlyish tomorrow as there’s a meeting about the village pond I promised to go to


God it's hot in London . Found a gay bar with outside seating for a beer. 
Just waiting for Nu

The Seekers - Georgy Girl (1967 - Stereo)

RIP Judith 

Chill

 

The sun and heat and occasional dousing by warm Mediterranean salt water has done great guns with my psoriasis knees , so much so that Dorothy actually looked disappointed when she gleefully tried to chop down on one when I eventually sat down on the couch after sleeping and housework and watering the garden and dropping round to give Old Trevor  some advice on analgesia.
This is the time when I don’t miss being in a relationship.
It’s lovely to be just me and the animals
I’m weary after my night shift coming so close to travelling back from Spain , so I’m mooching for the rest to the day.
Tomorrow I go to London
I’ve bought garlic doughballs for supper and a small box of Mac and cheese bites and after a dusk walk will drink my last beer and watch the hit Prey on Disney +
And share my supper with the girls 

Good Old Herb



 

My plane home was delayed but I refused to get all pissed off with it all as the easyJet staff were good humoured and helpful and our Irish pilot jovial and apologetic.

The car park didn’t charge me extra for the delay and after a confusing wiz around the new roadworks near Widnes I finally got home in Wales  at 2.30 am.
I can’t sleep, even though I’m still on Sitges time so I ve grabbed a beer out of the fridge and set up a gift Janet gave me. A metal silhouette of Sitges church  which I thought was rather sweet.
It will look nice with a candle behind it
I’ve just been reviewing the last day listening to Herb Alpert on YouTube.
I went back to the bar where I saw Greta the diva at lunchtime Sunday but sadly she wasn’t there. 
I stayed and had a beer and a somewhat dry Caesar Salad and watched the gay Sitges Promenade by.
It’s a kind of mincing Disney land at times …
And not really very real at all 



Homeward Bound


 Home later today after a whistlestop visit.
My family are all staying on for much of the week.
Although I know the train system well. I will book a taxi to the airport
The girl from Ipanema is playing in the restaurant this morning


The Plaster For Most ills

 

Tim with Sitges friend 2018

Like most families, mine can be slightly unpredictable when arranging a meet. 
Someone is distracted and is late, someone wants to eat early, someone forgot the time, someone( like me) is invariably early. 
I’ve learned to go with the flow. 
We generally all get together when we need to.
Last night was my brother in laws birthday. We all arranged to meet at our usual table for 8.30 pm so I donned my second best I love Sheffield  T shirt and went out to a gay bar around the corner from La Santa Maria for an early drink beforehand .

Minutes later I was talking to Greta, a rather shopworn and heavily made up German lady in her seventies.
She was sat at the bar reading a Spanish magazine.

Initially I thought she was in drag but as it turned out darlings she was indeed a elderly Austrian former Opera Singer from Barcelona. 
All this information I gleaned moments after she referred to my T shirt 
Sheffield…I sang there in the 1980s, It was a beautiful city as I recall” she sang out 

Now Sheffield, in the 1980s as anyone from the iron city would tell you , wasn’t very pretty at all and after a bit of banter I actually found out that Greta had in fact sang at the Grand Theatre in Leeds and had been a chorus singer on stage for over thirty years, most of it at the Opera houses in Barcelona and Valencia.

I was never disciplined enough to be a good performer “ Greta confided “ Too much good living” 
She tapped her glass and I bought her a beer
“ it’s too hot for anything stronger” she confided and she waved amiably at a group of gay men who were getting up to leave their table all of whom waved back and blew her kisses.
“ The Gays love Opera! “ she explained. 

She chatted about Montserrat Caballé, who she said was always delightful to the “chorus folk” and talked fondly of her funeral which she said was supported by the Spanish Royals indeed.

I found her an absolutely delightful character and would have stayed longer if I hadn’t somewhere to go
When I stood to leave she asked me if I was meeting a young man and I told her I had family to catch up with
“ Ah family” she emoted wistfully, the bangles on her thin arms jangling loudly

“ The Plaster for most ills” 

And she waved me goodbye


I go back home tonight. 
It’s been a lovely 72 hours or so….and Greta was right…..family is the plaster for most ills in the world 

In the restaurant , The die hards proved that last night when we drank the last drinks of a honest evening
Sharing stories, until then untold, around the safe dinner table 
( written 0022 Monday 8th)

Killing Me Softly


 
As usual I’m sat at a table with my coffee.
For me, this is Sitges’ best time of day.
La Santa Maria Hotel has changed hands since we were all last year and the German Matriarch Uta who owned and oversaw everything has been replaced by a faceless manager from a chain of hotels.
The place has been streamlined and changes made, most noticeably. In the guise of the Maître d, who is now a 1980s dressed bundle of nerves with a quick temper and bad manners.

But breakfast time remains what I always remember it as being.
Cheese and sausage and scrambled eggs
Lovely coffee and 
Peace and quiet.
A Spanish version of Roberta Flack’s Killing Me Softly is playing on the radio and The famous Church of Bartomeu and Santa Tecla has rung out the quarter to nine chimes
This pleases me 

We are all talking last night of the significance of having a regular family holiday at the same resort in the same hotel when there are too many new places in the world to visit, and I would agree with that sentiment .
From this post covid year I intend to visit new places and make new experiences 
But for a few days in a blistering August, it’s still lovely to be catching up with the familiar and with family. 
To touch base over coffee and drinks 
To remember and to celebrate.

And With the swift’s screaming in their fish shoal circles around the Town’s Church tower, it’s easy to realise that most things don’t change too much.

Sitges


View from Hotel Room
Hey ho
And lunch




 

Sitges Bound

 

I can’t be arsed with much luggage
T shirts, shorts, undercrackers a book, 
iPad and phone
Family reunion here I come, up at 2 am for airport
If this one is cancelled I’m off to Sheffield

Fact
A Māori performance is called a Rotorua
The performers flutter their hands quickly, a movement called wiri, which can symbolise shimmering waters, heat waves or even a breeze moving the leaves of a tree.

Angitū Whakawātea • Tāmaki Haka Ngahau 2022

Sometimes a group of Maori choristers belting out an Adele tune is exactly what you need on a Thursday Evening/Friday Morning
the power of the harmony is phenomenal. 


Watched, in part a sobfest kannada film with a patient called Charlie 777 which had me and a patient crying buckets
and that's without  effin subtitles!!!






Meatballs


This is a nice old video. 
William, old Winnie and George have long gone leaving Mary as matriarch with the ever neurotic Dorothy  as back up but it’s important to remind myself that the new Puppy will find his way, like his predecessors did, with the help of Swedish meatballs and some continuity of care.

I’m a firm believer of succession planning when it comes to dogs. Having one in back up never dulls the pain of losing an older dog, it just makes is tolerable. 
Dogs also do better in a larger group, I always think. They become more reliant on each other and less reliant on you , which makes the whole pack stronger and more adaptable to change
Mary and Dorothy need a male dog’s presence. 
They spark off each other too much with Dorothy’s blind love for me dominating the pecking order a little too aggressively. 
Winnie, was the calming voice in the pack. 
Now it will be hopefully up to Roger who,
I hope , when older , will be able to step up to the mark and control the girls.

I’ve always, always wanted a dog called Roger.
In fact I really don’t know where the name  Finlay , came from, when my first Welsh terrier arrived .
Roger was always going to be his name

Roger was Gerald Durrell’s first dog and his first friend. 
He was the constant supporting actor in Durrell’s My Family And Other Animals and Birds Beasts and Relatives and The Garden Of The Gods and followed his ten year old master all over the island of Corfu



What was your childhood dog called?


La Santa Maria


 Between now and 7 am Saturday morning , I have to squeeze in two night shifts , one visit to someone in hospital, and a date with a rather sweet guy for dinner.
Early Saturday morning , ( God Willing) I shall be flying to Barcelona in an effort to meet up with my family over in Sitges. Just for a couple of days

I’m only going for three days, I’ve got night shifts and a visit to London to fit in after that to see Nu’s Christmas gift of  Too kill A MockingBird at the Gielgud 

Basil Davies

 

Covid and long term illness has meant that several of the old characters of Trelawnyd  have been effectively isolated from everyday village life. 
Basil Davies , was one of those characters. 
Today was Basil’s funeral. He was 85. 
Born and bred in Trelawnyd, Basil farmed Ochr y Gop most of his life. A bachelor, he shared his beautiful Georgian farmhouse with his sister Mona, who was famous in my eyes as a champion scotch egg maker but who also was the school mistress of Gwaenysgor village school for many years.

I had a great deal of respect for Basil. 
When I had my small holding up and running, he would often stop at my gate for a chat and when I held my open days and ran the flower show, he would always turn up in his Sunday best to support the event.
Quiet and measured, praise given by him , always had extra gravitas and meaning and I remember once feeling near tears when he stopped to thank me for what I had “done for the village”, once one of my open days was over.

I was always grateful to him too as he always took the time to ask how My husband  was and always referred to Chris by his name. That acceptance has always had my respect and was never ever forgotten .

Trelawnyd said goodbye to a dear son today
God Bless You Basil