Supper Night

The bloody snow is back with a vengeance this morning, which is another bummer. Before I opened up the 13 hen houses I sneaked an extra feed to the guineas to bolster them up after an icy night in the Churchyard elm. From left to right we have Hughie, Alf and little IvyLast night my family braved the elements and almost killed themselves getting to our village for supper. My brother in law ( who is a bit of a daredevil and an ex rally driver) decided to drive up Gwaenysgor Hill ( which is 1 in 4) in a BMW along with my two sisters and another brother in law ( with all the starter in a huge picnic basket). The road was closed due to ice, but he in typical Indiana Jones style "gave it a go"
Suffice to say that after much shouting and fallings out (and a multiple yard slide down a steep snow covered grass bank) they left the car teetering on the edge and walked down the hill to catch a taxi up to us.(the long and safe way around)
Now I don't think it was the shock of nearly rolling down the hill that made them feel the cold ( a few gin and tonics and large glasses of wine soon helped them recover from their ordeal)

But all of them thought that our cottage was freezing even though the coal burner was on full draw. That's modern day central heating for you! Bloody softies! Halfway through courses they dug out all of our welsh blankets and sat there in the living room like a group of elderly old farts. I have a feeling that we won't be holding another supper night until spring time!

Smells

Four dogs, one cat, one fairly unhygienic slob (me) and Chris, all crammed into a tiny cottage in winter means just one thing! Smells! The whole family is coming round this evening for supper, so today I will stretching my stress neurones to the limit by fighting the tide of country living ( in true King Canute style) in trying to rid the place of muddy paws, animal hair and doggy farts. It never quite works! and the cottage although homely never looks like those wonderfull staged country homes I love to look at from Home and Antiques and Country Home Magazine! The carelessly picked ( yeah right!) bunch of flowers from the garden ( not in season) will be positioned casually on the kitchen table with a loaf of home made scones and a tiny pot of jam! An open bottle of Pinot can be seen on the rustic sideboard with two sparkling glasses and the fruit in the bowl looks as though it has been painted by some great master. And the home owner!!! ( who always looks like a psychotherapist) has the open mouth smile of a woman who has just paid the cleaning lady to scrub the floor and wash the dogs bottoms before the camera clicks!. Me! I aint no Jane Asher! Ok I have polished the silver, and I have "arranged a couple of blooms" in an art deco vase and there IS fruit in the bowl, but what we don't see is the merry half hours I have already spent chipping a stubborn Scottish terrier skid mark (poo not paw) from the floor lino and the sweaty few minutes retrieving putrid cat litter grains from under the cooker! I have not even steeled myself for the scrubbing of the loo basin yet.(I may need a large cup of coffee and a scented candle before I face that little job)
It's good that family visit, I thought as I wiped cat snot from the living room windows.....at least the cottage gets a clean

The Windy Side of care

I am not a lover of Shakepeare, but I do remember being totally blown away by Emma Thompson's Beatrice in Much Ado About Nothing. It is the only filmed piece of Shakespeare that I actually understood and enjoyed!
When she uttered the words "Yea, my lord; I thank it (my heart), poor fool, it keeps on the windy side of care" I totally believed her
In my view she has never looked or acted better in her career!

Snow, sleep and Rhode Island girls

The snow is back!
Blizzards hit around midday and soon after our freezing walk William sneaked up to the bedroom for a sleep UNDER the duvet in an effort to keep warm!
I took my computer into Prestatyn for fixing.
then drove up to Denbigh to pick up my kind gift of 3 beautiful Rhode Island Red pullets.

All three are just at point of lay and chirped playfully away to Classic Fm as we drove home. I have set them up in an isolation run for a while, just in case they have picked up some bug or other, which I doubt. The trio are buxom healthy hens.
To continue my usual cinematic "chicken names theme they have been christened Laura (as in Linney), Audrey (as in Tatou) and Thelma (as in Ritter)


Two of the Rhodes minutes after we got home.

In the Electric Mist

I am a such a sad sausage.
I have a few favourite actors whose careers I follow with the interest of a ten year old with a stamp collection! Laura Linney, Russell Crowe, Audrey Tatou are but a few of my "heros" but I must admit I do also like the work of actor Peter Sarsgaard (above).
So, this evening, it was with practiced interest that I sat down to watch the movie In the Electric Mist, which Sarsgaard is billed third.
As it turned out the film was no better that a tv movie thriller and as usual Sarsgaard was underused. Most of his recent films have been run of the mill, basic thrillers in which he has not even been the lead in.....it is a shame

Cold

It has been a bloody awful day, cold and very wet! Far too wet to be digging the veg plots and far too cold to be thinking of planting broad beans and early potatoes. Even the dogs seemed unwilling to stay out on the beach for their walk, favouring the comfort of the arms chairs in front of the fire (above)
I have braved the elements for a while, and placed a few well chosen stones on the ever growing Church wall but allowed myself to be interrupted by a visit from the fat faced welsh farmer, who gave me loads of advice about setting up the next pig enclosures, a job I want to start next week! He said he would give me a hand stringing the pig netting taut, but stated he couldn't help me sledgehammer the 4 inch posts into place (at 71 I wasn't expecting him to!)..." I get a little breathless" he explained in his usual understated way!

For part of the afternoon I was effectively rained inside the house and caught by accident a re run of the 1944 classic Jane Eyre . Now I am not really a fan of Orson Welles (Mr Rochester in the movie) and I have always favoured the sweet faced Olivia De Havilland over her feuding sister Joan Fontaine (who played the plain Jane Eyre), but I kind of enjoyed this Gothic romp on the Hollywood moors. It was the ideal antidote to a miserable afternoon!

Walkabout

The turkeys went on walkabout this morning. I had cut my dry stone walling effort short ( I had only placed four stones in the wall to be honest) to take the Welsh terriers out for their walk, and was returning home when a four by four stopped and the driver asked me if I owned " some bloody big birds", apparently, he said four "big buggers" were having an amble down our lane (Cwm Road) and were having a great old time of it all.

I ran down the lane ( not easy at my age with tight longjohns and wellies on) and caught all four junior turkeys a hundred yards beyond the field.

Now Turkeys are bright little devils! Never EVER be fooled by their depressive big brown eyes and slow gait. They know when they have done something wrong and understand only too well when they are being told off.

All it took was one sharp "get here!" and quite meekly all four scarpered back to the field gate, with heads bowed ( and muttering quietly to themselves), I shall clip their wings again quite soon but wanted to wait for my "chicken course" students to do it as part of their learning...which will be fun.

Anyhow I have now spent a few hours at my sister's house, filing out a laborious job application on line. It is amazing how much I rely on my computer on a day to day basis....a scary fact in many ways......

"Gi Oeeer"

My netbook has crashed, so I am effectively computer less (well that is until Chris gets home from work).It is a nightmare as all my notes for my chicken course are locked away behind a blank screen as well as a ton of other documents and information.
Computer Boffin Nige has kindly been on the case this evening and has offered some sound advice, but for the near future I am sans netbook!!!!!!

Anyhow work on the dry stone wall has started.
According to Steve it is important to start with some large "key stones" on the base of the wall, which you work "outwards" from. The filling of the oddshaped gaps between these larger stones remind me of a basic childs' puzzle, and as long as the stones are supported from behind, the whole job sounds easier than it is in reality.
Apparently the whole wall has to lean backwards ever so slightly (to 33 degrees) and long connecting stones should be placed in the wall (and into the bank behind the wall) to tie the whole structure into place.
I hope the Church council will be happy when we eventually finish

This afternoon I have been busy weighing out feed and mixing it with poultry wormer ( which is phenomenally expensive). As it was snowing this afternoon ( yes snowing) I worked from the back of the Berlingo to keep the feed dry and parked on the field, with the Welsh terriers tied up behind. The scotties were free on the field.
A group of hikers went past mid afternoon and as usual Maddie ran forward barking loudly at the "intruders". I shouted out my usual telling off of "Give over Maddie" and one of the men in the group cheerfully shouted out "Now there's a good Sheffield accent!"
This tickled me as I has not realised that I had used the typical Sheffield phrase of "give over" (pronounced "gi oer") which literally means "give it a rest"or "stop it"
But on reflection, I realised that I always seem to use this Yorkshire phrase time and time again, especially when dealing with the dogs, another legacy of living a decade and a half in God's own country.