Passport palaver

Chris was very sweet today and booked us a quick "relaxation" break in Sitges,which is one of our favourite places in Spain. Ann and Tim fell in love with a shabby chic family run hotel (The Santa Maria) on the Promenade years ago, and all the family have followed their lead and have visited it on and off over the past decade or so.
Sitges has escaped the usual British riff raff holiday makers, and caters for the affluent Spanish from nearby Barcelona as well as being a usually well behaved pink pounding European gay friendly resort.
Chris and I are far too "untrendy" to frequent the gay beach and bars, so we love to slob out in the hotel and on the hotel beach...( and do very little else) Bliss bliss bliss
My excitement of knowing we are going was tinged slightly by the fact that I have just realised that I have lost my soddin' passport. After 5 hours of frantic searching ( at least I did find my lost ---and very expensive-- body shop vitamin E moisture cream) we found no passport....nothing...so, in a panic I rang the passport help line and booked myself to sort out an emergency-in-a-week in Liverpool on Friday afternoon) The passport should come around the 7th of September and we fly on the 22nd.....so fingers crossed eh?.we should make it.......mind you I will have to pay 97 quid for the privilege....it will be worth it, as I absolutely have lovely memories of our holidays in Sitges( and a very funny story of Sorell fallin down a man hole...x)
pic, is the small Church overlooking the bay of Sitges

Respect

Uncle Bert's funeral was an lesson in family and community respect. It took place at Prestatyn's parish church (the centre of all family births, deaths and marriages) and was officiated by no less than two canons and two vicars (a sign of high respect in itself)
The entire family turned up for the service. Ann,Tim, Andrew and Jayne, Janet,Nephew Pete and Tracie and myself joined Judy with cousin Stuart and family in a packed Church to hear a celebration of Bert's community orientated life.
The old vicar of Prestatyn gave a detailed and heartfelt tribute to Bert's Scouting days describing his skills as the "best camp cook" as well as his days as Gang Show organiser (I had forgotten the whole concept of the Gang show). but it was the new vicar, Rev Bellamy, that provided the most moving tribute to Bert's generous and thoughtful side, by regaling a gentle story of how Bert supported him in his new and potentially difficult first days in post as vicar. I was very impressed with the genuineness and eloquence of his words,
Watching a family closing ranks in a family crisis is a very powerful thing to experience, Today I witnessed a little of this phenomenon as we said goodbye to a much respected gentle-man and a Showman ,with a flair for the artistic

Duncan goes to pastures new

This morning retired poultry keeper Bill called to the field in the hopeful search for a cockerel. He has a large flock of birds at Golden Grove (the big house in Llanasa) but is lacking a testosterone charged male to increase his 60 bird flock. Betty, the farmer's wife I had approached the other day for bird advice, had pointed him in my direction, as she knew that Duncan's over amorous attentions had caused multiple sore bald" spots on the girls wings and backs.
So we fixed a price and minutes later off Duncan went to pastures new, leaving a totally overwhelmed Stanley now in charge of the large number of concubines.
Bill and I have provisionally arranged for his buffs to be covered by my Buff cockerel Clover, when he is "of age" and having another contact will in turn will be useful for me I guess. I have no reservations in loosing Duncan, as out of his his offspring in the A frame, I am sure there will be another cock ready to take over from the king.

My sweetcorn is looking particularly impressive. I have only planted 50 plants or so in one block, and although sturdy against the runner beans I think next year I will plant a larger block of 100 or so.

Broody Nolan, having a break from her chicks, but keeping a close eye on my as I was pottering this morning

Blasts from the past

I worked on Saturday night and came face to face with someone from my rather distant past.I guess it had to come one day, now that am working in an area I grew up in, but I wasn't quite prepared for the experience.
As I took handover to my patient,the patient's surname reminded me of a boy I sat next to when in secondary school. He was a terribly popular character that had a "jolly hockeysticks" attitude to work and the universe, while I was a rather shy, awkward character, and although we were not friends in the truest sense of the word,he made my rather quiet A level years, bearable.
I had not seen him since 1980,so when he walked to the bedside to visit his seriously ill wife, I think we both had a bit of a shock, after all there isn't really a recognised protocol for this sort of social situation.
Living here in Wales occasionally flips you back to those faraway teen years I can now hardly remember. To be honest I would prefer to forget most of them as it was never a really happy time for me, but just occasionally, history grabs you by the scruff of the neck and forces you to remember.
Tomorrow is Uncle Bert' funeral, and tonight Judy is coming up for dinner. so I think we all can enjoy a reminisce about past times before the seriousness of the church service.
Meeting my old classmate, in a similar vein, tweaked bitter sweet memories that ought to be remembered just the once, then perhaps be left well and truly in 1980;.

"Ping Pong is coming home"

Well I was dubious that Boris would make a good Mayor of London, but I will backtrack on my words, as this speech (obviously with tongue firmly in his cheek) was a real cracker. Apparanty the Chinese were completely flummoxed with the Irony of his words, but the final triumphant "ping pong is coming home", was genius and perhaps is the direction for the games to actually go in......a sense of real fun as well as competition.

Something to look forward to

Over a rather huge limoncello cheesecake (see below blog) Chris and I got to discussing his 40th Birthday which is next year. We seem to have done New York to death over the past 8 years (I still love going) so we were thinking of going somewhere new. Now he has been to the west coast of Canada and loved it, and I have visited Seattle and enjoyed that too so I think we are drawn to a pacific trip.. Many years ago now I did go to San Fransisco and absolutely loved the city ( although I hardly remember a huge amount about it all), so last night we finally decided to book to go!!!!!!!!!

The cheesecake that broke the camel's back

I drink far too much wine and subsequently eat far too much crap, That my friends endith the lesson for today.

Last night we went out for an Italian meal, which was lovely. But as the wine flowed so did the appetite and as usual I shoveled down the biggest limoncello cheesecake, which I didn't really want. This morning I have a slight hangover and a rather nasty bloated stomach as well as the nasty realisation that I am putting on the pounds again, so when I have been indulging myself in bedroom window "thinking time", I have come to a small but significant epiphany.

I am going to cut down my alcohol intake drastically.

It certainly needs to be done as the odd glass of wine or three with crap television can become a bad habit, and I need to remind myself that I come from a set of parents that indulged heartily in bad habits. So from today avid readers you may notice a Bridget Jones style alcohol counter in the bottom label box (every week there will be a weight counter in it too, as a reminder not to give in to alcohol driven munchies.

Now I am NOT becoming a nun, heaven help me if I started down that route,( so you can be sure that my gossipy, wine fueled trips to Sheffield and the odd pub quiz and Italian treat meal will continue)- I just want to cut down on that regular bottle of wine and subsequent huge bites out of the cheese wedge that sneak in to every day life.

Bloody Pet Rescue

I found one of the Andrews Sisters dead in her nest box this morning. All the amber rockets are moulting at the moment, so physically are at their lowest ebb, but a sudden death (number two in a week) is very worrying to say the least. All the hens have recently been wormed, treated for ticks and fed properly, but I still am concerned that I am doing something terribly wrong.

So I drove up to the farm on the other side of the village to pick the brains of Betty the farmer's wife and self proclaimed poultry expert. She has 70 hens,a scruffy dress sense similar to my own and outbuildings to die for, so if anyone could give me some advice, she could. I felt better after chatting to her, as basically she said everything was pretty normal.She also enjoyed telling me some of the horror stories she had experienced with her hens (disembowelment of chicks by a psychopathic bantam), but it is always nice to meet up with a fellow poultry geek.

William is still having skin problems and delightful squits this morning (I had shampooed all the carpets by 8 am), so I took him and one of the remaining Andrew's sisters (who has a sore neck- see pic) to the vets.

I like to think that I am an expert of waiting room protocols now, as I have been up to the vets almost on a weekly basis this year, so with hen in a box, William on my knee and digital wireless head phones firmly in place, I prepared for the banal chatter of oh-too-serious-pet owners that are shoved together in the vets waiting room..

Pet owners can be like any other geeks in this world, as they can exhibit rather questionable social skills. You know the sort.........talks in an over familiar sing song way,always too loudly and always too much, BUT worst of all they talk TO their animals as if they understand EVERYTHING they say. So today we had the bunny lady.............on and on she shouted to anyone who caught her eye, about her pets, their pets, everyones soddin pets.........William sat on my knee watching her carefully as she regaled everyone with horror stories of her pet's illness'. I refused to make eye contact and tried manfully to listen to The Archers. After 20 minutes of this I could have strangled the poor creature, especially when she started to explain to her rabbit ( yes rabbit) why the dog next to her wanted to play ( he was used to rabbits at home)...I could have stood up and shouted "He's a rabbit!!!!!!!!!!!!!!he doesn't understand the concept of dogs playing with rabbits at home!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!he doesn't even understand ENGLISH....HE'S A BUNNY FOR GOD'S SAKE!!!!!!!!!!!!!.SHUT UP..........PLEASE SHUT UP YOU NUTTER!!!!!!!!!!"

Message to self........calm down.........and don't speak.

Anyhow the new Spanish vet diagnosed William with enteritis and field mite (in between his toes), gave me some poultry spray for the hens' sore wings, antibiotics and mite treatment for Will and stung me for 40 quid.in the process......