Emergency

 Well come the zombie apocalypse I’m fucked

The Government warning obviously didn’t reach Trelawnyd even though the village does have an emergency plan, where the Memorial hall ( with its own generator organised by the TCA ) will provide the  village with a powered emergency shelter and mini hospital. 

No alert on my phone at 3 pm

Not an effin sausage 

The Pond

 It was rather fine at lunchtime so helping to weed the pond wasn’t arduous or unpleasant 

There was something rather nice working away alongside old friends and the space looked lovely when we had finished 

Village leader Ian even saw a frog and As Nick brought the coffee , Bridget sorted out her “own” bara brith

I was so sore after the exertion …..shows my age lol 

A Thong For Europe, Pond, News and Flis

 

I am lucky, living in Wales near the border as it’s only 29 minutes ! by car to Chester and only an hour or so from Liverpool. 

Last night I bought tickets for A Thong For Europe at The Royal Court , now I knew what I was getting into ( the title somewhat gives away a degree of dumbing down) and I was right.

Think of a Liverpudlian pantomime on steroids set against the backdrop of the City’s venture into Eurovision stardom and you may get the gist. 

Writer Jonathon Harvey loves his grotesque, matriarchal characters and Lulu ( Lindi Germain) is not a stones throw from Linda Ha Hughes ( His Kathy Burke Character in Gimmie Gimmie Gimmie) she opens the show with a bang, when she gives a hilarious and foul mouthed eulogy for his mother in church , a mother who loved Eurovision and whose ghost will haunt her is she cannot scatter her ashes on the Eurovision stage.

I think you are aware of the the level the musical is heading for from its opening moments and despite its silliness , the foul mouthed, Liverpudlian humour hits you between the eyes from the get go and it is what it is. An affectionate look at Eurovision from the eyes of a dysfunctional family of stereotypes.

Harvey throws everything at it , with a selection of iconic Eurovision entries to get the crowd clapping, a bizarre and rather amusing appearance  of a Sonia lookalike ( Sonia is a one trick UK Eurovision entry from Liverpool in 1993) and more scouse humour than could be seen at a Ken Dodd convention .

The mostly female audience , several of them almost collapsing drunk, were out for a good time , and boy did they have it, ( a fact that reminded me of my recent post of bad behaviour in theatres) 

But the whole musical was frothy, happy rubbish , so nobody cared too much .

I was home just before midnight, which wasn’t bad timing, even on the occasional school night. Liverpool has a good selection of theatres  too, which perhaps I’ve underused over the years. …time for a change me thinks.

Anyway I’ve had a nice, busy and enjoyable week off so far. 

I’m about to go and join a few more volunteers and will weed the pond borders shortly.

That will be about it for today.

And I will post some photos shortly.

I also note that blog commentator Flis has been absent for a while. I understand that one troll has taken a dislike of her comments and often says so, which is rude, nasty  and bullying behaviour. Flis has gone quiet and I want her to know that she is always welcomed here. 

End of.

Now I’ll end today on a light note. And a happy one.

Facebook has a memory app thing that shows you posts from years ago.

These photos were sent to me the other day .

They are from a sunny afternoon when I babysat the Randa girls one day and I decided to show them how to blow and decorate goose eggs

We had such a happy time messing about with those eggs on the lawn.

A precious memory now the girls are grown up now.

Little Women indeed.

Spring Cleaned

The front room has been spring cleaned and Chic Eleanor , the queen of style 

Gave me a massive compliment when we were out for coffee this afternoon

She told me I had a talent for the attention to detail 

Coming from her, that’s praise indeed

Local News Strong Women

 As I am one of the TCA trustees I was asked by the secretary of the village Friendship Group if I would write them a letter of support for their forthcoming applications for community grants. 

I jumped to attention and completed the letter as quickly as I could  as it was requested by respected  village elder. Now The Secretary has always frightened me just a little. She is an assertive soul, a lady who has been big in the village church for years and I suspect a lot has been achieved because of her professional and cool approach to problems and needs. 

In a war She  would have been a bloody godsend .

I love the Friendship Group,  to me they have always thought laterally and for a group for older people , they still have a membership of over 65 people which I think is fantastic. 

Only a few years ago , they had a belly dancer show on one of their meetings in the hall , which I remember well as I listened to the belly dancing music from outside as I took the dogs for a walk and wondered just what the fuck was going on inside…..the applause and cheering was deafening lol .

Just to add to some local colour Irene Murray who has helped run the Friendship Group for 40 years , helped me run the Flower Show for years ( and with Sylvia Evans before me ) and my headstrong and sorted soay ewe was named after her with good reason 

Irene 

And Irene. 

Yesterday I dropped in some flowers to another neighbour who I have just heard has been rather unwell. Flowers are not a panacea to all ills but they are pretty and they underline your best wishes well .I’m a firm believer in flowers as gifts, they say more than words often can . 

The sponsorship of the memorial Hall windows , continues to be a success , one lady rang me yesterday to see if I could change which window she was allocated in memory of her parents and of course I said yes. 

She asked me to allocate her a window which overlooked her mother’s former house because It meant so much to her. These things do so much don’t they ? 

Today I’m spring cleaning the living room and as a treat afterwards I’m meeting up with another of Trelawnyd’s women Chic Eleanor for coffee. 

The front room rug has already been washed and is drying in the sun on the front lawn

I’ve not heard the calves this morning as yet, which is strange as the living room windows are open wide and a cool breeze is flowing through the cottage like an avalanche 

Swimming the Channel

 Bluebell broke down again today which was more my fault than hers. The same easily mended issue with the gear stick which I promised myself I’d sort two months ago. The RAC man should have bollocked me but he didn’t and I was on my way within an hour.

I’d broken down next to the pond in the next village, So the hour turned to be incredibly relaxing.

I rearranged the inside of the car, moved lunch with my friend to Friday and arranged a visit to see old Trefor at his nursing home in Rhyl later today. 

I found some general purpose wipes and washed my face and in a fit of self care rooted into the glove box and found a container of face moisturiser accidentally left in the car by work colleague. 

Without really thinking I took a huge scoop and lathered my face as though I was about to swim the channel then looked up through the windscreen. 

What was I thinking?

Walking towards me, not ten yards away from Bluebell were three hikers.

I rubbed my face and the bloody stuff didn’t disappear as I expected it to, so when the hikers came to pass me they saw this face looking back at them 

I shouldn’t be let out I really !

This afternoon I fared better. I bought a selection of newspapers and visited Trefor at his residential home. He looked and sounded well and looked immaculate  at nearly 99 in a clean shirt and dressing gown 

My hoodie had great globs of moisturiser down the front of it 

Cries for mom

 

Opposite the cottage is the Church Field. 

It was gifted to the Church as an overspill of the graveyard, but as the Church is closed and the county no longer extends graveyards, I am sure at some stage the land will be sold.

Presently an old school friend has ponies grazing there. 

Beyond the field are the livery stable fields. 

The stables are grazing a gaggle of young cows at the moment, all of whom have recently left their mothers.

The noise of their calls for their mothers is almost chilling at times, especially in the middle of the night.

They started a few days ago, around 1 am in the morning. 

One caller bellowing in the dark followed by another and another.

Roger woke from downstairs and raced first to me and then to the window seat, scanning for where the noise was coming from. He was joined by Albert and before long we were all awake listening.

There is something incredibly sad when the young call for their mothers, especially at night when the cries are lost in the dark and the wind

They are still calling this morning.

Anyway today, I’ve decided will be a productive day. I’ve bought some printer ink and will be printing out the first of the TCA certificates to send out to the villagers who have sponsored windows in the hall. 

Each person will have a thank you letter, a certificate naming their sponsored love one and a map detailing which pane of glass is theirs. I have also purchased some large rigid enveloped so that the certificates aren't bent. 

The kitchen looks like a mini production line.

It’s college later tonight too, we are being filmed using our counselling skills ! 

Note to self , find a clean T shirt. And remember the camera puts on ten pounds.

It’s weigh day today and I’ve lost nothing more this week , which was to be expected as I’ve had dinner and tea out twice last week. I’m not disheartened at all, I will catch up next week.

The printer is clattering out certificates like a good un

And above the noise and activity in the kitchen,

I can still hear the bellows of the calves from beyond the pony field.

Explain

 Today’s mood stemmed from a text I received from my friend Faisal who left for South Africa this morning

It was polite as Faisal always is and the message thanked me for my “friendship” and “ guidance” and “patience”.

I’m not known for my patience, that comment surprised me. 

Faisal is gay, but apart from turning up at our gay book club a few months ago ,never  really admitted he was to my face, having said that  he spent much of our conversations talking about and asking questions of my gayness. Something I let him do because it was obvious  easier for him to do so. 

We only met four times

He has now left the uk for an asexual if not “straight” lifestyle in rural South Africa with his parents and siblings . 

He is expecting an “ organised “ marriage too at some stage, and. made a point of telling me that marriages were more organised than arranged in his family

I missed the difference. 

He’s in his forties, and his family have reeled him back home again 

And as I hugged him goodbye I kissed him on the cheek and felt incredibly , incredibly sad I didn’t have him here for longer

Still Life/ Busy Life?

A still life , if ever I saw one

I’m waiting in my second favourite cafe in colwyn bay waiting to meet a friend

They are running late, 

I’m drinking coffee listening to my phone songs, and have left the dogs exhausted on the reading chair after their morning walk

I’m on holiday this week, though I have a study session to go to at work this afternoon and it’s college tomorrow. ( I passed my second assignment btw which is nice)

In between I’m meeting an old school friend for lunch, there’s Gay book club too and a Liverpool trip to see the oddly named A Thong For Europe with Colin, a comedy play about Eurovision. 

I’m catching up with old Trevor too at his new nursing home, going to the TCA ‘s sub committee meeting, sending out the window certificates and going to see a Spanish horror film Pearl which has a very limited run over here.

I feel oddly melancholic today, which is irritating. 

But it is what it is 

If my mood was musical this is what it would be

I’ve ordered more coffee and I can just now see my friend ambling along towards the cafe without a care in the world.

Heyho

The Night Of The 12th

 

I went to Chester this afternoon after exhausting the dogs on another long walk in Bishop’s Wood

I got there around 6pm and treated myself to pad Thai noodles at the Chester Market before cinema at the Storyhouse with friend Faisal , a day before he leaves for South Africa .

We went to see The Night Of The 12th an intelligent and unnerving version of a true crime case set in France where a country teenage girl Clara was burnt to death by an unknown attacker.

The case is taken over by new police chief Yohan (Bastien Bouillion ) who is an odd, intense character who finds verbal support somewhat of a challenge . His second in command Marceau ( Bouli Lanners) is a burnt out, about to be divorced, cop in so need of counselling support from his boss so things are not looking good as many suspects are unearthed but no progress is made with arrests .

The film is a fascinating journey looking at an in-depth , forensic but intimately unsuccessful investigation    and it explores the terrible toll a murder investigation actually has on its human participants , namely the police team involved, especially as no result is actually found.

Bouillan and Lanners

It’s a long story but I gave Faisal a chased kiss on the cheek  goodbye 

at the end of the evening 

So sad

Mindful

 I was never one for houseplants.

True, I have an aspidistra who is at least 40 years old and a flowering cactus almost that age , but these two are surviving more from luck than from design. 

Since lockdown I have collected houseplants and the best bit of advice I have had looking after them came from the postman, who one day complemented me on my collection.

When there’s a warmish rainstorm , put all of your plants outside for a long shower

It’s labour intensive , but it doesn’t half clean and nurture them

So that’s what I have done this morning. Set the plants in the rain and then returned them one by one when they were wet and really green again.

I know repetitive and somehow quite mindful.

This respective, mindless behaviour is a useful mechanism to employ when stress is in your life. I’ve always used it at work when things got too much to handle. I’ve gone to the drugs room to clean the drugs trays or move the laundry around or clean the dressing trolleys.

Washing dishes is a mindful chore too

It’s done with the above view of plants and flying gull and of pretty crockery and moving the plates and the knives from hot water to cold rinse let’s your mind unwind and slow down. 

My grandmother hated ironing clothes, she said that it “ slowed down the brain” 

Now it’s therapy

The Kindness Of Strangers

 

The film lecture and discussion was animated and informative. It was also fun and three hours flew by like a swift in summer. I was put into three break out groups , the last of which was dominated by a very chirpy lesbian from London who stopped us in our tracks by inviting us all to an on line meeting directly after the  class was over. Her reasoning was to celebrate the birthday of one of our “classmates” a chap called Paul whose 68th birthday it was today.

He’s on his own and if you you are free for a bit , grab what drink is in your fridge and pop along she yelled excitedly 

And that’s exactly what 35 of us did, much to Paul’s tearful surprise.

Various hastily opened bottles of wine, gins, a few coffees, and one very indulgent bottle of bubbly from a rather exuberant chap from Buxton were decanted and I found a tin of espresso martini in the fridge which I emptied into one of my antique champagne glasses before we logged in to meet again. 

Even the lecturer joined in and it was the silliest and sweetest thing I have done in a long time.

At one point Paul, ( who was a retired charity worker from Wimbledon ) made an impromptu speech sharing how depressed he had become over the winter and how cinema in particular had kept him going in the bleakest of moments and he asked us to raise our glasses when he quoted Jean luc Goddard and said“ Cinema is the most beautiful fraud in the world” 

And from all over the UK came the chink of glasses.

Film Nite

 This morning I took the first collection of money collected from the Memorial Windows to the clerk of the TCA at the Saturday coffee morning . 

As usual all the tables were full, and I could see as well as cake , there were homemade sausage rolls on the menu. 

Mrs Trellis put one in her handbag.

I said hello to a few people and collected another two sponsorships before coming home, I have an on line film course starting at 1pm.

The next event for the TCA Is a film night, which was the brainwave of Bridget who has secured a projector and a screen. Unfortunately I’m working night shift on the 29th but I will try and change it. 

(

It’s still cool but there is a bright blue sky over the village.

One of the ponies neighed at me when I got home .

Cuddle Time

Most evenings the trendy blue sofa is full of dogs, cat and me. 

It’s the nice part of animal ownership , where the pack quietly comes together for a bonding sleep, usually at the very end of the day when bellies are full and everyone is in need of a physical and psychological cuddle. 

Dogs remember their litter feelings , as much as we miss being cuddled as children 

Last night , I spent the evening FaceTiming friends as the pack dozed. 

I thank covid for this “new” phenomenon

Chatting when you can see the person you are talking to 

Is a great bonus when you live alone 

They are in the room with you! 

Always! 

On Saturday I’m taking part in an interactive zoom discussion / lecture on gay cinema. We had to share what films we would like to discuss and my suggestion of The Object of my affection has been accepted.

I’ve always loved the novel as well as the movie and how they views love 

This quote from the novel, I’ve always remembered and been touched by

"Often, what's most attractive about a person is that part they're trying hardest to conceal, that part they think is least likable. You find out about it and it becomes a secret bond between you, something you never talk about but hold close to your heart and are continually touched by"

My trip to Barcelona Is booked and sorted. I’m going with an old girlfriend which I know will be easy and fun and I hope I can book a cooking lesson on a Spanish cooking day I found through another friend. 

Like the dog’s cuddles, the break will be total therapy and will be totally embraced. 

I FaceTimed my friend and we giggled like schoolgirls about the holiday today.

It’s doing me good ….already

 

 

Pride and Prejudice

 

Pride and Prejudice *sort Of  was a bit of a romp last night.

A comedy version of Austin’s novel played from the perspective of five maids who Reinact the the lives of the Bennett family and their romantic connections with Wickham, Bingley and Darcy.

It’s clever and incredibly well acted and has comic timing to die for as the five leads play four of the Bennett sisters, and all the other main characters sans Mr Bennett who we only “see” silently sitting behind his newspaper.

The maid thing, is a loose connection as the novel is deftly covered from start to finish without much input from them. Mrs Bennett (Dannie Harris) is now detected as a potty mouthed, drunk with an east end accent where as Lizzie( Emmy Stonelake) is a buxom Welsh Nessa with hefty calves and who bursts into Carly Simons’ You’re so Vain when she meets Darcy for the first time.

So you get the idea

It’s all very silly, and well done.

But as the audience clapped away at the cast belting out  Bonnie Tyler’s Holding Out For A Hero, I couldn’t help thinking it was the froth that many audiences want right at this moment and although I laughed , I’d seen enough by the end of the first half.

So what today?

A bit of shopping, booking flights to Barcelona too…..it’s cold so I’m making soup  too.

Hey ho

Family

I love this photo of my elder sister and her husband 

I took it today to send to their granddaughter after lunch was done 

It’s been a nice day 

Pounds and Ounces

 Weigh in at fat club yesterday

Another loss….I’ve now got rid of almost one stone ( 13.2 lbs)

And yes I am feeling the benefit of it already.

My work pants are loose and almost fell down as I was helping a lady onto a commode on nights 

So what am I doing today ? I’m going out for lunch with my family ! Go figure diet.

I will be good the rest of the day, I will fast a bit and I’m meeting Gorgeous  Dave  later for a theatre trip ( ooooohhh how pretentious !) 

It’s cold today and blustery. 

And Ive made the effort for my family and have trimmed my beard and found a jumper without a hole in it to wear. Lunch out is a new tradition we have started recently. It feels all rather civilised.

Probably it’s just the fact that we don’t like late nights much anymore, even Chic Eleanor after she booked the silent disco for us in St Asaph Cathedral left the caveat “ I ve booked us the early session 😂6.30 to 9.40 oldies…bed by 10pm !”

Nothing else to report. 

The flowering current in the garden is in blossom and has lifted the garden’s spirits into spring.

Sit Down Madam

 

As people know I’m a big Theatre fan. I’m also very clear in my mind how people should act and behave in the theatre. ie there should be a mutual respect for their fellow audience and for the performers on stage.

At the end of lockdown I remember posting about being in the audience of the musical Far From Away where I experienced , what I can only describe as a small touch of mass hysteria .where the house erupted with a spontaneous cheer and standing applause after the very first song.  

There was a hunger for that large scale experience 

A hunger and a need for it.

Recently we are hearing of episodes of bad behaviour in musical theatre productions where mainly drunken women in the audience have stopped the performances by singing along with the leads.

Now, whilst I deplore behaviour like this ( and believe me I’m not shy at saying so) I do have a degree of sympathy for the women involved who , like us all have returned to live theatre in order to have a good joint experience. 

Often the productions are led by popular songs, and at the finale they actively encourage the audience for a joined singalong of best bits so to speak .

Mamma Mia started this trick to leave people happy but the trick has rebounded somewhat, fuelled by alcohol, high ticket prices ( I’ve paid for this ticket and I’m going to have a fucking good time) and a post covid hysteria , the sort I mentioned at the start of the post.

Theatres are to blame a bit too…..to recoup their covid costs many bigger theatres are putting on crowd pleasers which will prey on those wanting a toe tapping , dancing in the aisles evening of fun .

In The Bodyguard a working bar appears on set and is used in the interval to serve the punters in the stalls.

The worst audiences I have experienced in the theatre and cinema have been in,  I’m afraid, the United States, but their British counterparts are catching up, which is a sad fact.

I’m happy to being a bit of a snob where join in pantomime productions are concerned. These are morphing into comedy gigs and concerts which are interactive to an extent and for many are becoming the norm……not in my house they’re not! 

I’m going to see two productions this week. Too Much World At Once at Theatre Clwyd and the Lawrence Olivier Award winning Pride and Prejudice* sort of  at the Storyhouse  and I shall sit there sans toffees and mobile phone and I will listen quietly and with respect.

Sams

 I last volunteered for Samaritans nearly seven years ago.

Despite excellent supervision and training the calls eventually took their toil and I felt I lost my empathy with some callers which, as anyone in the trade would tell you, is the first sign of burnout.

I resigned and was happy to go

Another sign of burnout.

In my years working for the charity, one call will always stand out with me.

It kind of haunts me, even to this day and can still move me to tears if I think about it carefully enough.

It was from a young teacher, I will call David.

David had had a difficult year. His work had been stressful and many of his class had not achieved the grades that he and they had wanted. He felt a failure, isolated and miserable. 

He also, more importantly, felt responsible .

He was sat in his car, near a beach, somewhere in the UK 

He had no discernible accent and I could hear seagulls crying nearby.

He was drinking from a quarter bottle of Rum and had, he told me , taken enough tablets to put a horse to sleep.

He had started to slur his words and had cried for much of the call.

I felt as though I was losing him and called a colleague in to listen to the call. 

She listened and shook her head and squeezed my hand and told me I was doing alright.

But, I was losing him and I knew it.

He took another pill and I heard him swallow it.

And I asked him about his favourite music, his taste in films, and his best friend.

Anything to engage him in conversation.

Anything to create a hole in his depression.

Every trick in the book.

We had been on the phone together for over an hour and I sensed that he was wrapping up the call.

“ I just wanted to hear a kind voice John” he explained and at the end of my tether I asked him not to go.

But he did go.

With a gentle “Thank You” he ended a call which may of been his last conversation with another human being on earth

And that was the day, I knew I had done enough for the Samaritans .

Roger and Peter Ustinov

 

Pull up your knickers and tighten the bra straps 

Another fairly bland post is on its way.

Roger went missing this morning.

He was politely waiting to jump into Bluebell to go on his morning walk and poof ! he was gone.

He has only mastered jumping into the footwell of the car by the way, and can’t quite compute the slightly bigger jump straight on the driver’s seat. But I had turned my back for a gnat’s crotch of a second and he had vanished.

The lane was empty . He’d gone off like a rocket, so I checked up into the village towards the main road  first…nothing then down the lane to Trendy Carol’s ….not a sign. 

I was beginning to worry.

The main road is lethal for a dog of Roger’s IQ and so I drove around the main village calling his name.

Not a sausage.

So I drove down the lane again , parked outside the sheep gated field and called him.

Still nothing.

I was beginning to get worried.

Lambing time is no place for a dim dog to be roaming lost in fields.

I called him again.

And suddenly he was there in the lane with a black plastic plant pot in his mouth, 

Looking nonchalant and relaxed

Another treasure stolen from a ditch or a garden .

He brought the plant pot home with him, showing it off to the others with a toss of his head.

They weren’t interested.

So that was the mini drama for the morning.

Please no more today. I’m on nights now until Tuesday morning.

I made some coffee in my mokka coffee pot and have sat down to watch Parkinson on YouTube .

Now I loved Michael Parkinson in the 1970s

As a teen I was privy to the crem de la crem of the talk show , where icons such as David Niven, Peter Ustinov , Peter Cook , Kenneth Williams and Billy Connolly were given time and space to shine.

And shine they indeed did. 

Strange that the only woman of note I remembered being interviewed by Parkinson was Catherine Bramwell-Booth The Captain of the Salvation Army and she shone by virtue of a natural warmth and power

I treated myself to a low calorie brunch of eggs and potato cakes made from dried potato and herbs.

Bloody lovely….

And am presently watching Kenneth Williams in all of his full camp fury

The camellia has eventually flowered by the back door. I’ve had it five years now and it’s the first blooms 

It’s a good sign 

A good one

The neighbours behind me are beginning to get noisy as they do when the sun is shining

I’ve put Waloyo Yamoni by Christopher Tin on full blast to drown out  chihuahua  Charlie’s yapping