Turkey dances

Most of my day has centred around scraping manure and slurry from the pig enclosure into impressive piles of fertilizer next to the allotments. Not an exciting day, nor a particularly interesting one, but these stinky jobs need to be completed.
The one positive thing about all this repetitive work is the fact I have had an opportunity of watching the newly formed turkey flock from close quarters, and what an entertaining little bunch they are too.
The four youngsters (now sexed as 2 stags and 2 hens) are robust, mischievous, bright and greedy birds who spend long periods jousting and larking around like teenage boys after school.
Out of nowhere, one will take a fancy to start an odd looking kind of skipping movement, and suddenly all four are gambolling in crazy circles, wildly flapping their great big wings like idiots. This "crazy" behaviour carried on throughout the day, albeit in short bursts; and the rest of the time, the four turkeys indulge in their other passion, namely eating.
Every time I venture into the feed shed for something 8 huge black soulful eyes zoom onto my movements and the babies start calling and gobbling excitedly, bouncing up and down as if shouting "Me!!!me!!!!me!!!me!!!"
Call me a softie, but I always succumb to this blatant and hammy begging, and the turkeys know it...and as always they get offered a large handful of corn or wheat, which they bolt down within seconds . No wonder they now resemble four brown feathery barrels! and no wonder I am going through a sack of corn a week!
note their beaks, sharp and painful if they accidently peck you during a feeding frenzy...I should have clipped them short when they were poults

The White Ribbon -

hummmmmm

The White Ribbon

The last couple of minutes of THE WHITE RIBBON, was spoilt for me,only because the new digital technology at Prestatyn's Scala Cinema, let everyone down by removing the subtitles from the screen!
Having said all that, the audience generally worked the final conversation out for ourselves not that it gave any clear cut conclusion to one of the best films I have seen in the past few years.
The White Ribbon is an unsettling,suspenseful and truly gripping ensemble piece set in a small isolated German village before the start of World War 1.
The village suffers a series of seemingly unrelated but unnerving dramas over a period of a year. The village doctor is injured in a riding accident, a woman is killed in a sawmill and two children are tortured and beaten. At the same time other more "minor" mishaps befall other seemingly upright and respected families. The parson's pet bird is butchered, the Baron's son is bullied and a baby becomes ill in mysterious circumstances, and the narrator (who is crucially an outsider and the villager schoolmaster) by default tries to to work out what is indeed going on.

Director Michael Haneke cranks up the sense of dread and malice slowly and deftly, especially when the onion skins of respectability are peeled away from the characters, revealing a community run by extreme discipline , punishment and in one awful case, sexual abuse. The Children of the village are key to this movie. as they roam around in the background in an ever present pack, yet, we are never fully sure that it is their abused personalities that are central to the strange events and heavy atmosphere.
Everything in The White Ribbon is left open ended and unsettling, and as the villagers are finally led into the war, we the viewers are left with more questions about the approaching fascist threat, a decade or so away and we are left wondering about what role the children will play as they approach adulthood in the changing German world
Key scenes linger long in the mind. A child frightened and alone searching for his sister in a dark house. A tearful teenage boy being lectured about the horrors of masturbation, and the dreadfully calm verbal abuse delivered to the doctor's mistress, all add up to unsettle and wrong foot the viewer time and time again.........and I must admit that it is a long, long time since a film opened up so many avenues for analysis and review after the last reel is over.
I gave it a brilliant 9.5 out of 10

Grumpy Old Women

Last night I caught a re run of the tv programme Grumpy Old Women, the talking heads show, where celebrity middle aged ladies grumble about the woes of life.
Now, I not going to complain here! In fact the whole series is quite hilarious, especially as I found myself agreeing with everything these women had to say about the trials and contradictions of life.
Here are my recent top 3 gripes

• People talking in the cinema
• People speeding through the village
• People talking to animals as if they understand English

People talking in the cinema

Now, this is my biggest bugbear! and the older I get the less tolerant I have become of this discourteous and unthinking practice. When we were at the Scala recently enjoying George Clooney at his most flirtatious, two lads at the back of the cinema were indulging in what could only be described as a full blown and animated debate! After a brief, rather British moment of tutting, I got up, walked slowly (and you always have to walk slowly for the best dramatic effect!) over to where they were sitting and leaning right over them said in a loud firm voice " can you both shut up right now?"I have always found this direct approach to be the best action as it not only embarrasses the chattering culprit but it gives a warning to the rest of the audience to keep quiet!

Now, I don't discriminate with other social groups here! In my experience older ladies at the arthouse cinema in Theatre Clwyd are the worst offenders, and all have to be treated in exactly the same manner.....firm and fair (much to the embarrassment of Hazel, who can be often seen sliding down her seat almost onto the floor!) The last time I told two well dressed matrons off, I received a "hear hear!!" from people in the back row!

People speeding through the village

I am becoming obsessed with speeders! Balancing on the narrow pavements, often with two dogs in tow, I now seem to have the innate ability to judge when someone is driving "dangerously" over 30 miles an hour and offenders often have to "suffer" the surprise and shock of me, and middle aged man in a silly woolly hat, pointing at them with a disgusted look on my face whilst mouthing "TOO FAST!!!! TOO FAST!!!!!" in an exaggerated Helen Keller type of way

We have a zebra crossing in the village, and sometimes when I am waiting to cross it, drivers will ignore the fact that I am standing there and will drive ahead regardless....I now have a somewhat devilish plan to shock these kind of drivers, and occasionally will make a big exaggerated show of stepping forward (with no intention of walking out!) subsequently the drivers have to slam on their brakes and I can walk out in front of them smiling sweetly and bathed in the warmth of a small victory !

People that talk to animals as if they understand English

Now I have blogged about this subject before and it drives me NUTS! so much so, that when I go to the vets and have to sit in the waiting room with the usual crowd of fellow pet owners, I will do so only when I am listening to my digital radio so I don't have to listen to the drivel that some people come out with!

I remember one lady that had a badly behaved collie which was snapping and growling at every other animal in the room. She talked to the animal constantly in a strange sing song voice, telling it it was a "bad dog" and explaining at length why it was there,what was going to happen to it and why it should behave a little better!

After 20 minutes of this constant chatter and her inability to control her unsocialized animal , I was beside myself and when I finally went in to see the vet, I turned to her and said "I would give up, if I was you, he obviously does not understand English!"

................It is official........I AM a grumpy old git!

Goodbye Solo

Goodbye Solo (2008) at Theatre Clwyd this evening is a little gem of a film that skirts away from every cliche and platitude when examining depression, suicide and motivations of friendship.
Solo ( Souleymane Sy Savane) is a warm natured, talkative and perceptive Senegalese taxi driver working in a unnamed American city. He picks up a morose 70 year old William ( craggy faced Red West) and takes a booking to transport him to a mountain view point, which is a well known suicide spot, The film then chronicles Solo's never ending attempts at finding out just what may occur on this journey and shows his efforts in trying to prevent it.
The strength of Ramin Bahrani's movie lies in the fact that the audience is totally unaware of both mens' motivations and pasts. We are not even sure that William indeed wants to end his own life, and are left guessing at every twist and turn of the plot, All we are "given" is the odd and difficult relationship between silent old man and soulful immigrant, which is underplayed and subtle to say the least.
Savane gives the character Solo the gentleness and loyalty of a dog who has an unexplained connection with his crabby master, and it is this unwritten connection that makes the film so terribly moving. There are no cliches of sudden revelation or bursts of emotion to satisfy the audience in a clean cut emotional romping kind of way, and the ending isn't wrapped up with satisfying resolution, all we are left with is a strangely effective story of a very odd relationship
9/10

Buzzard

This morning I have lugged tons of stones down to the pig pen, to create a platform free of deep mud. I know the pigs seem quite happy without it, but I guess I am bowing from pressure from a few locals who perhaps feel that wet mud may be a little cruel, if left untouched.
Anyhow, as I was talking to one of the villagers who was walking her dog, the guinea fowl started their usual cries of warning, and down dropped the bird of prey again, this time quite blatantly towards the hen enclosure further up the field.
I saw the cockerels run forward and as I hurried the 100 yards or so, I could see it was not Bunny or indeed Mary the buzzard was after but one of the old and sick black rocks which had been left to free range.
I had treated the droopy old hen for a while, and for several weeks she had become quieter and more lethargic, a case of old age I guess, and yesterday's attack I suspect was a first attempt at ambushing her and not the smaller bantams as I had suspected

By the time I had scared the buzzard off, the black rock had been killed, probably more by shock and surprise than by tooth and claw, and was stone dead by the time that Maddie raced up for a sniff.
Now I haven't got all upset about this, as it was only a matter of days for the old girl and at least the whole thing was a quick and speedy check out for an aged hen . Nor do I feel rather jinxed, given the recent guinea fowl disaster; it is,like life is sometimes, just the way of the world.

Woolly hats

The day has been cold again, so out has come the woolly hat and the extra thick socks, all of which remain tightly in place even when I am sat in front of the fire with my usual blanket of dogs. Today I have used up some Christmas gift tokens and have treated myself to a pile of quality seeds for planting in the allotments come March. French beans,climbing beans,hardy broad beans onions, shallots, beetroots, seed potatoes and a host of other veg, will supplement my usual seedlings that have been swapped with various individuals from the village and my sister's co-operative allotment, and I have bought a few luxuries, including a large packet of yellow poppies seeds, which I will sow by the reducing manure heaps, to add a little colour to the field later in the season
my favourite bantam Mary, (below) had a bit of a scare this afternoon, as she was on the receiving end of a potential attack by some sort of bird of prey. I heard the cockerels growling a warning (whilst the three remaining guinea fowl screamed and whistled from the Churchyard) and I saw the bird drop like a stone into my small enclosure which houses the more delicate pure breeds and Bunny the disabled hen.
I presumed it was perhaps a buzzard , swooping down onto Bunny, but it was a smaller hawk of some kind and it seemed to be after Mary, the smallest of the my bantam hens.
The attack, in fact, came to nothing. The hawk must of thought better of it all, or perhaps the cocky little bantam Cockerel, Roger, could have scared it off, but before I could even trot over to save the day, it had swooped up and out of the field, with only the scream of the guineas to mark where it had been.
My idea of having the guinea fowl as watchmen over the others, perhaps might of been a good idea.

The word is pronounced "Itttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttt!!!!!!"

I despair for modern Britain sometimes.....
Take, for example these two "role models" Fooballer Jamie Redknapp and his model wife Louise waving the flag for Thomas Cook holidays.......
THEY CAN'T EVEN SPEAK THE QUEEN'S ENGLISH!!!
when I was at school , the word "it" was pronounced with an emphasis on the T........when on earth did it become just plain "i"?
I am a crabby old git