Lonely George and the Magpie Ducks

Without Maddie, George remains a little quiet and isolated. While the two Welsh spat over the remains of an over baked lasagna dish in the kitchen this morning, George took himself off upstairs out of the way.

I sneaked up with him and cuddled up on the bed to give him a little "quality" time and I am now resolved to get him a pal of his own at some point in the future. Funnily enough the breeder where we got all of our dogs from has a scottie bitch which may become available (she is the last scottie she has and will have!) In Susan's words she has a good "heart".....and is called Tweed.......we will need to think about her.

Yesterday I lady from the next hamlet called down to the field. She asked if I could call into her farm and review her new hens which had been delivered recently. New to hen keeping, she had suddenly "inherited" 40 or so pure breed young birds but had not idea of breeds and sex.

I called around to her farm yesterday afternoon. It was one of those farms that could have come straight out of Home and Country magazine. The yard was so neat and clean that you could have eaten your dinner from it, and all of the young birds were in enclosures and coops that would not have looked out of place in Buckingham Palace's gardens.

Cuckoo cochins, brahmas, silkies with their pompom heads filled every run and I did what I could to give some advice and guidance.

Before I left the woman asked me if I would take her three Magpie ducks. She had inherited these with the hens, and although they too were beautifully looked after, their run was way too small for them. I have agreed and so I now have three of these traditional welsh ducks to join the Indian runner flock

Watch out they're loaded

Chris photographed me carrying the goslings from the front garden in the rain this evening!
I have learnt the hard way that care MUST be employed when transporting goslings, as they have the rather unfortunate tendency to explosively open their bowels without any warning whatsoever!
The best method I now use, is to hold each gosling backwards with their head tucked underneath my armpit and their "arse" cupped over each palm. In this odd position each baby remains quiet and still and when they do want to open their copious bowels, I just have enough warning ( which is usually a quiet fart) to point their bums forward so that the liquid sh*t shoots ahead like a bullet out of a gun!
Mind you looking at the above photo..I do look a little like a very VERY ugly woman with her somewhat odd pendulous breasts hanging out!!!!!
This evening gentleman farmer Ralph and his missus caught me thus "armed" with the babies and this morning a woman out for a walk with her Labrador stopped to watch me "firing" poo from both barrels as I walked into the field!!!!!

Caught up with Nu this evening and had a good gossip as she drank wine in her Ealing conservatory and I watched the rain from the bedroom window seat She is a senior nursing manager that covers two major London hospital departments and has a hugely stressful lifestyle! sometimes I feel a little parochial when we do catch up with things its a bit like Doc meeting up with Holly Golightly in Breakfast at Tiffany's.....I have organised a trip to see her in September and will take her to see Sweet Charity for her Birthday! a city visit...how exciting!

As Requested

Ok, I know I risk sounding like Delia soddin Smith but here goes

Mix a good sized portion of smoked mackerel with some cooked cod

Add a cooked onion and some cold mashed potato (that has been mixed with garlic and butter)

mix together with salt, pepper, parsley or coriander and a good lot ( and I MEAN at least two level teaspoons of paprika

Leave in the fridge to get slightly stiff ( at least 2 hours)

separate the mixture into cakes and dip into plain flour ( with more paprika added)

Lightly fry in olive oil until crisp

To each his own

I am not sure about the Liberace type hair do, but the smile is still as gracious as ever,...Olivia De Havilland, the VERY last of the Hollywood greats is still going strong at 94.

Nuff said

Leonera

Few films have actually been set and filmed inside an actual real life maximum security prison, but the Argentine movie Leonera (Lion's Den) not only films most of it's action inside one , it also uses the staff and inmates as extras in an interesting and confounding drama.

Julia Zarate ( Martina Gusman) is a bleached blond, apparently abused and depressive two dimensional student. She is convicted for the murder of her lover ( and the assault on his boyfriend) and enters prison pregnant.

In a somewhat meandering and absorbing story we witness Julia's development from sullen teen into a fierce mother with purpose, and as she heads towards the time that her son is four years old ( the age when prisoners' children have to leave incarceration) , the audience prepares themselves for the inevitable tragedy.

Lion's Den is an interesting film as it wrong foots the audience consistently. We don't know if Julia is guilty or innocent, we know nothing of her past, her relationship with the resourceful horse faced lag Marta ( the excellent Laura Garcia) does not let her down at the crucial moment and the expected downbeat ending just does not materialise..

Prison and Motherhood are seen to transform Julia....and despite the awful storyline...there are flashes of hope and humour in this otherwise bleak but compelling story .

8/10

Who says men can't multi task?

It's been a busy day. With Chris' colleague coming to stay later, "operation dog snot removal" has been continued with renewed vigour. Beds have been made, dusting has been done and various doggy stains and smells removed with much scrubbing and bleaching!
In between all this I managed to separate the three definite juvenile cockerels from out of the St Trinian group and take them to the wildlife animal centre on the other side of Flintshire. I couldn't quite face the prospect of culling these skinny little hybrids as none have any meat on them, and I knew that the chap that runs the rescue centre has a big hen house with room enough for some lucky bachelors.......yes I know...we both are a bit of a soft touch

I came home, walked the goslings and after them, the dogs then made a load of home made fishcakes from scratch AND an apple pie (God I am good!, read 'em and weep Delia Smith)...

This afternoon I have dug up another bucket of potatoes, delivered duck eggs to Ann ( to make the cakes for her Flower Show) and cleaned the detritus from inside the Berlingo.......The state of the car would make a gladiator faint believe me!
I am now writing this ( with my first coffee of the day) then I am off to deliver more eggs, buy some milk and cream from the supermarket and then clean out the duck house before walking the dogs again.
Only then I will have time to recheck the guest bedroom ( George thoughtfuly pooed in there this morning),and scrub the toilet!

...............and people wonder why I only work one shift in the hospital a week!!!

Dusk Observations

I wrote this when I was on fox watch a while ago, and have only just remembered I saved it on the laptop...

Another lazy blog but it kind of underlines the pace of the field!

........It is 8.30 and the evening remains warm, dry and quiet. I am sat under the elm which borders the Churchyard and from this advantage point I can see every corner of the field. No sightings of Mr Fox as yet!

George is sat quietly in Maddie's old spot at my feet and the Welsh terriers are tied up next to the water butts and look asleep in the evening sun. Everything seems calm and serene.

The pace of the animals is slowing down in preparation for the night. The four female turkeys have separated from their daytime meet up and in two groups of two are ambling slowly towards their respective stags. Jane and Lizzy (the slate and Bourbon girls) make their way down towards Bingley in the far pig house and Gloria and an almost bald Theresa wait patiently just a few feet away. They know I will be shortly moving them into their shelter with Boris, who is still huffing and puffing away in the back ground.

The indian runners stand uncertainly just beyond the turkeys. They are eyeing me nervously and are also waiting for me to direct them into their duckhouse. I am late tonight and they know it............. and I am just that little bit amused that it seems to bother them.

The hens are all gliding their way to their own hen houses in groups of two and three. The buffs swinging their fat bottoms as they walk heavily home. The only birds that don't move home wards are the six battery hens in the furthest coop. They remain still and silent in a sad looking flat group in the warmth of the sun, yet the very fact they have all taken the chance to leave the safety of the hen house proves to me that at least the natural light and heat they now feel is in fact healing.

The two new foals in the field beyond the stream are galloping around is silly circles together and I can see Albert sitting on top of the Church wall watching them with some interest before he jumps down into the grass and rubs his head against those of William and Meg waking both dogs up.

The guinea fowl totter past and leap the 6 feet to enter the old Graveyard. They chatter noisily when they spy Albert, then move on to sit under their roosting tree, muttering to themselves like grumpy old people

I take a long measured breath in, as one of the roosters crow

I am home

70 years on

It is the 70th anniversary of the Battle of Britain.
I have been reminded of this fact many times recently, as a local aircraft enthusiast often guns his ancient Spitfire in the skies over Rhiallt Hill over the valley.
A few years ago, Chris and I went to a "Battle of Britain memorial" at Chatsworth House (http://www.chatsworthblog.org/) We sat on the lawns of the great house with a picnic and listened to a concert of patriotic music and songs, and I remember well, the quite magical arrival of a Lancaster Bomber and its accompanying Spitfire escort.
The singer Aled Jones was belting out one of his set pieces when a ripple went through the audience. Someone had noticed the elderly planes flying low up the valley towards the Stately home, and one by one the crowd turned their backs on the stage to face the approaching planes.
As the Lancaster roared into the view the crowd went wild cheering and waving their Union Jacks, and both planes dipped their wings in response....
The sense of awe and pride for something that happened over a half century before was amazing, and I find it more than a little sad that the generations that lived through the war, like my mother and grandparents, have all now died away
Today's generations have no real idea of what really happened .