Returning Mojo

I am now bored of moaning. After an early night,(a VERY LARGE wine) and a good night's sleep, physically and mentally I feel a whole lot better.......The busboy Paul Giamatti summed it all up when he said to a depressed Julia Roberts in My Best Friend's Wedding "this too shall pass"
and of course yesterday's shitty experiences have now passed into memory.....(er well almost!)
Jane, the slate turkey returned to the field briefly this morning to feed and drink. I was not swift enough to track her back to her secret nesting area, but at least she's still around.

Kate Winslett's single chick is doing ok. I bobbed her remaining unhatched eggs and all 5 were duds...so it's just Kate and her baby.

I don't usually name chicks but this single ball of fluff I have nicknamed Constance. I have done this because the name has been stuck in my mind for a few days now. I understand quite clearly why it has lodged there, Chris stated at some time he wanted another bitch to replace Maddie, and I have agreed but not until next year. I have already experienced just how a change in the dog's pecking order can cause mayhem, and I feel it is vital that we don't rush into anything that could upset the apple cart yet again....

Anyhow it has become a tradition that I name our pets. I hate fluffy bunny type names for dogs ,preferring ordinary down-to-earth ones, and dogs in particular need easily recognisable individual names that they can respond to. If we ever get another bitch then I would like to call her Constance or "conn-ie!!"
Today I remembered just why I like the name Constance. It stems from my childhood movie watching days, and in particular comes from the film The Three Musketeers (1948). June Allyson ( yes she of the deep gravelly lisping voice) played the virtuous Constance Bonacieux who was so unfairly killed by the bitch-face-from-hell ,Lady de Winter (Lana Turner). At around 8 years old or so, I remember thinking just how awful it was that Constance could die, and willed that Gene Kelly got to her in time before Milady stabbed her. It was a seminal moment in a movie going childs life, and in retrospect probably taught me a great deal about the unfairness of death.(as well as teaching me to deal with a bit of a hero crush on Van Heflin who played Athos)

Hummm...on further reflection I probably wanted to BE Constance just a little....she was so sweet and likable but was bound to be a bit of a victim in that Judy Garland type mode.........hey I was sooo gay....even then....and even at eight!

ps

....just checked on the stock before their bedtime..Jane, the slate turkey has dissapeared.....bollocks!

A shitty kind of day

I don't have many crap days, but as you can imagine as it has been a pretty shitty fu*king week, today just had to be one of the shittiest!
It has been an amalgamation of factors that has led to all this...all of them pretty insignificant in themselves..but when you add them all together! It's a big soddin hey ho!

1. Blanche squashing all of her chicks flat on her nest
2. After my sister and I weeded the largest of the vegetable beds: a raiding party of Indian runner ducks have stripped the hearts out of everyone of my little gem lettuces
3. After collecting the eggs, I left the bowl full of them on the field wall. When I remembered what I had done, someone had removed all of the hens eggs (the duck eggs were thoughtfully left!)
4. Two of the bourbon red turkeys went walkabout from their enclosure and had to be chased back up the lane, halting a somewhat irritated farm worker in a large tractor
5. Albert has beheaded another sparrow, thoughtfully in the centre of newly laundered duvet cover
and number 6:

The dogs had a mega fight in the living room! I suppose my guess that the canine pecking order had not been affected by Maddie's death was wrong, as out of the blue William suddenly and without any warning attacked George. I must have overlooked the possible reason for it, but when I got to them, both dogs were locked tightly together growling loudly. Meg hearing the ruckus galloped down the stairs and joined in the attack on poor George, and despite being soundly slapped with an enamel jug ( the only thing that came to hand) I couldn't separate them.

After an age, and several blood splatters on the carpet. I ran into the kitchen, emptied the washing up bowl of dishes and hit all three dogs with over a gallon of cold soapy water, which distracted them all for a split second , which was long enough for me to reach down and drag George to safety.

Apart from a few puncture wounds, no one was seriously hurt, however the living room looked as though an elephant had run amok all over the place! George stalked outside for a sulk (above) and the Welsh settled down as if nothing had happened...perhaps they have been unsettled with Maddie dying....after all her presence always seemed to be the steadying influence within the pack. The fight has upset me greatly

To make it up to George I have just taken him for a drive to the village shop where I treated him to a pack of pre cooked turkey slices...... well it me feel a little better!

Yorkshire Accents

The other day , three of Chris' old colleagues called round for a visit. The three of them (all hailing from the South Yorkshire area) had gone to Llandudno for a couple of days rest and relaxation, so when they came, I did the usual allotment tour, presents of duck eggs and tea and cake.

The "girls" all possessed varying thicknesses of the South Yorkshire accent, and I found myself "enjoying" their speech patterns as those flat vowels bantered back and forth.

Accents fascinate me. Physically Britain is such a tiny area, but the number of different accents and dialects that you can pick out is absolutely phenomenal.
Anyhow I mention this only because one of the visiting girls made a point of commenting just how "welsh" I had become. She had met me a few times when I lived in Sheffield, and presumed that I was a "posh Yorkshireman"...now she couldn't get over the fact that I had reverted to my native drawl.
I couldn't bare it. Now if I had the true pure North Wales accent, I could cope with the observation, but I suspect that I now possess that mongrel Liverpudlian and Welsh hybrid accent that I hate. When I have time I will do another video talk over, and you and all figure it out for yourselves.(I am sure my friend Nigel will have something to say on this subject)

The video gives those "non Yorkshire" readers a brief snippet of the wonderful Sheffield accent....Russel Crowe note.....this is what you should have sounded like in the movie Robin Hood

I feel rather chesty today as my twice yearly bout of bronchitis has arrived but will soldier on, checked on Blanche early this morning and found all her newly hatched chicks dead and flat in the nest. Chickens can be thick as mince sometimes.

Georges Bizet: L'Arlésienne-Suite - Farandole

MY FAVOURITE PIECE OF MUSIC....lifts the spirits

Everyone's brooding

Like my birds, I have been somewhat broody today. I received the final bill for Maddie's care, which was efficient if not just a little unthinking of the surgery given that the old girl died only a few days ago.
I drove up, and paid the bill and gave in my letter of complaint which I addressed to the entire practice staff. I made a point of thanking one of the nurses that has been particularly professional with me, but underlined just why I was leaving their practice. It's all a bit sad.
The whole thing has left me broody and somewhat irritated.
The weather is scorching this afternoon, and it is too hot to get stuck into the weeding. I have given the broody hens an extra feed and water, but have left Nell, the old runner duck on her eggs inside the duck house

Blanche (left) is an old hand at incubating and two of her eggs are hatching as we speak. One other chick was dead in its half hatched egg and I removed it carefully. The first chick looks like one of the black hybrids.


Lilly( left) has not hatched out any chicks before although being the eldest buff I have. She is so broody, she has hardly eaten and drunk anything over nearly three weeks, despite being "encouraged" to do so.
Kate Winslett the youngest buff is a little heavy footed when sitting on her eggs and has accidentally smashed 4 of them so far.Each one had a tiny chick inside which is a shame. She has only 4 intact eggs left!
With Chris jetting in between Halifax and Quebec my usual Saturday routine of banter, bickering, and shopping has been curtailed. I have taken the opportunity of reorganising our files, bills and other paperwork "things", so the kitchen resembles the study of a particularly unorganised professor.
Once I get the whole sorry mess sorted, the happier I will be today.
Have a good weekend everyone

OFFICIAL Somewhere over the Rainbow - Israel "IZ" Kamakawiwoʻole

Heard this on Maura's blog and its kind of stuck with me

Men with hammers and a sweet little kindness

Last night Geoff and daughter Helen came round to help me construct the goose house. It was all very testosterone, what with hammers being hammered and drills being drilled.

We had to build it in the cottage garden so we could use the electric drill so provided a somewhat chavi scene especially when Geoff started to swig some beer out of a can.

As we huffed and puffed with the timber 7 year old Helen amused herself with completing all of the uncompleted jobs on the field including filling all of the water feeders. She seemed to enjoy herself dragging heavy buckets to and fro.......it was lovely having a small slave for an hour or two

As it turned out the completed goose house is robust and rather impressive. Thanks to Chris and to my two sisters who bought it for me for my birthday.
The Small "village" of animal houses on the field now number 18.

So it looks as though it is going to be be another hot day (okok Tex not as hot as the Lone star state but hot enough for a lilly livered Welshman), I have a mountain of weeding to do and an even BIGGER mountain of paperwork to catch up with, Chris is a bit low, he is just about to board a plane to Halifax in Canada before flying on to Quebec, he hates being away from home.

After taking the dogs for their morning walk. I returned to the cottage to find a small carrier bag tied to the front doorknob. In it was a tiny beautifully wrapped homemade cake and a brief hand written note. It was from a lady in the village that I chat to occasionally (you know who you are) ; the note made me fill up....it said simply
"Just heard that you have lost your Maddie,

Chin up

x"