Sitges part dos

Now health and safety in Britain would have a small stroke if they witnessed one of the loudest and potentially lethal celebrations in the Sitges fiesta calender. The Santa Tecla firework "party" starts at bloody 7am in the morning, with the town´s school children (most of the little darlings sporting large fireworks on sticks) running amok through the village streets. It´s all very good humoured though, and not one seemed to have been injured or maimed.
The weather was lovely yesterday (floods all over the rest of Spain though) and we may be in luck today, as it seems fine again .
The break has been lovely ( I slept for over ten hours last night) but our waist lines will need a rest when back in old blighty.

Sitges

Thought I would do a quick blog, as I am in the foyer of a rather nice hotel on Sitges Promenade.The weather has been bloody awful over the last day or so. We survived it the first day, because the hotel waiter (the happy-go-lucky and very welcoming Paco) plied us with too much Rose wine. while we were waiting for our room to be ready.Subsequently Chris and I don´t really remember weaving our staggering way upstairs to bed.
The Santa Maria hotel, is as always lovely, shabby chic, slightly run down but popular with the locals and not a riff raff Uk lout to be seen.
The weather remains awful, but we have relaxed, read and ate ourselves stupid.
Will have to leave it there as a few old queens want to use this computer, and are pursing their lips like good uns.oh errrrr

Boris comes of age, new Buffs and Holiday

Boris seems to be growing up already. From time to time his face pouches flush with red and blue and he assumes the stance of an adult "stag", but he remains rather well humoured through it all. The final clutch of the year,(four new Buffs) hatched last night and are safely housed in the shed under a heat lamp with Ned watching over them while we are in Spain

Sod's law, means that the weather in Barcelona is pretty dire all week, while the weather here is going to be lovely. I am not at all bothered, I intend to sit for hours (rain or shine) with a book..............
If I find an Internet cafe in Sitges I will drop a note on the blog, if not I will get back here next Saturday

Bee Keeping

No not nuclear war in Flintshire, but bee keeping up the Conway Valley. Chris doesn't look very happy in his protective keepers' suit but I think he enjoyed our first practical session on the Bee Keeping course.
About 20 of us (all slightly self conscious in our whites) tramped our way into the woodland glade to watch seasoned Bee expert "Geoff" dismantle several hives to show us the honey,drones,workers and grubs and eggs. It was a fascinating few hours, and a slightly nerve wracking one at times as great clouds of bees wafted too and fro and up close and personal to your face visor. I am sure that if a bee actually entered my suit I would have broken the 4 minute mile as sometimes the whole experience was a little claustrophobic at times.
Geoff couldn't quite locate the colony queen initially and much to Chris' amusement called out "I bet you all want to get a glimpse of the old queen don't you?"
"There are two over here!" Chris quipped under his breath as everyone nodded........
Our next session is in October

this is not just........ goodbye Dervla Kirwan

Well why oh why have Marks' got rid of the velvet toned Dervla Kirwan, the voice piece of some of the best adverts seen in recent years. Her catch phrase of "this is not just ordinary........etc etc" is a wonderful example of intelligent yet simple marketing.........strange but I will miss her.........I wonder if old Twiggy will be next???

Mouth to Beak

The weather has been glorious, and surprisingly I have been up since 5.30am.I had strimmed the field borders, walked the dogs and made a good start at weeding the veg patch by 10.30. I met up with Hazel for lunch,collected all the poultry food for when we are on holiday then got home to meet up with Geoff, who is very kindly sorting out the field in the evenings when we are away.
As we were chatting Geoff pointed out that one of the ducks was flapping madly by the fencing, and when I got there It was clear that the poor animal had wound one of the nylon strands around its neck. Even though I freed her in seconds the poor little female had literally garroted herself and looked beyond help. Clearly she wasn't breathing, so with Geoff looking slightly aghast, I gave the poor little thing a good chest slap then opened her beak and blew hard.
Now I have done CPR plenty of times at work but I can honestly say I have never performed it on a duck before. Unfortunately, unlike ER we didn't have a happy ending this time and the poor caramel female died.
It was a sad accident and unfortunate as I had raised all the 20 ducklings without a single casualty. With the dog attack deaths in the hen run recently as well as the old Black hooker dying of heart failure, things have looked rather glum over all. Let's hope it will be the last death in a while.


Organising cover for the animals has been more complicated than organising the Christmas off duty on the spinal Injury Unit. Carole will be taking Maddie and George while William and Meg are off to the kennels. Steve will be sorting the poultry out in the mornings and Geoff will be doing the evening jobs. Ned will be coming in to check on the prospective new buff chicks in the incubator ( they are due Sunday/Monday) and will transfer them (hopefully) into the heat lamp nursery in the shed.
The evening sunset today was lovely, and I was still outside cutting the lawn when Chris got back from South Wales at 6.45pm.

.....nothing really new...chasing Whoopie

Still feeling full of cold today, but it has been warm and fairly sunny, so it seemed a crime not to be outside all day. I took Meg and William for their long walk this morning ( the Scotties have a shorter walk afterwards, as they just can't keep up) and we did a big circular walk around the Gop and Trelawnyd's sister village Llanasa. Above is one of the beautiful estate cottages of Llanasa's Golden Grove,it is Chris and my fantasy place to live as it literally looks as though it has been plucked from the 1900's
Although it does not look like it, the warm weather has brought the entire village out into a hive of activity. Lawns have been mowed,cars washed and jobs completed,so despite still feeling like shit, I have enjoyed being outside.

As I was dettol spraying the interior of the coops (it keeps away the dreaded red mite), I heard a big commotion from the hen run, fearing the attacking dog again,I looked up to see a rather excited Whoopie Goldberg with a large field mouse in her beak. She was holding it by the tail and was weaving in and out of the grass tussocks with most of the other girls in close pursuit. The mouse was squealing loudly, and although I have watched the hens dispatch many small rodents I felt suddenly very sorry for this little chap, who was making so much noise. Whoopie galloped twice around the enclosure in an effort to find a quiet spot on which to eat her prize, but the other hens would not leave her alone, so like the big bloody jessie that I am , I lumbered after her swinging a small cleaning brush I had been using to disinfect the hen house. This Benny Hill-type chase carried on for a while, Whoopie, the me , then a score of hungry looking hens all running around in circles. with a small rodent screaming loudly all the while.

Finally I outwitted the hens (hello??? not hard) and did a short cut around the coops, where I gave a rather surprised Whoopie a softish kick up the butt. She immediately dropped the poor mouse which dived under the hen house and to safety.

Now I hadn't seen a couple of old ladies from the village watching me from the Churchyard, and bugger know what they thought I had been up so, after waving at them in a slightly embarrassed way, I got on with my jobs.

Hens are not the sweet little animals most people think they are. At times they are focused and relentless predators. Knowing that there was a mouse under their hen house, the birds systematically and patiently stalked it, like lions after an antelope. I didn't witnessed the kill, I just didn't have time to watch them, but I have no doubt that the poor little chap ended up being scoffed

....ahhhhh haaaaaa

I have never liked jewelry on men. In fact in the far and distant past I have actually refused a date with a guy who was a little heavy (and I mean just one ring) on the old bling.I never really understood just where this dislike came from until now,
Tonight when. I was in the bath, scrubbing away the dirt and chicken poo of the day, I found myself rubbing my face rather aggressively with soap, as I did so I suddenly remembered a faraway childhood memory.
Perhaps 35 years ago very occasionally my father would supervise the evening ritual of going to bed, he had a somewhat robust and old fashioned attitude to ablutions and not being satisfied with our somewhat perfunctory face wash, he would "give us a good scrub" as it were.
Tonight I remember clearly the way his wedding ring would scrape my face, and I suddenly recalled hating the feeling with a vengeance........and exactly at the same time I realised just why I dislike men's jewelry so much....
funny what you remember