Welsh Reality

Wales is not known for quality television. The welsh language station S4C reminds me a little of the 70's scheduling I was used to as a child ( all cheap and rather clunky). But just occasionally something interesting looms out of the mist. On Monday BBC Wales starts its SNOWDONIA 1890 "reality/historical/experiment" where two families, the Braddocks (from South Wales) and a local North Wales family (the Jones' from Denbigh where my brother lives) take up the responsibility mountain small holding for a month, but do so within  strict Victorian parameters.
OK, OK, it is a tried, tested and totally artificial scenario.....we have seen it all before, but this production, from what I can see, has the benefit of some detailed and meticulous research, a particularly tame white Sussex hen and some feisty actors who have been conscripted into playing the "local characters" such as the local Minister and butcher.
I'd love to give this sort of thing ago...the costumes pander to my slight enjoyment of the theatrical ( I can see myself in that very fetching hat the guy on the right has on!) and the "pulling together in adversity" is all very disaster movie-ish!
Alas, I don't think that welsh reality tv is ready for a middle aged camp old queen with a love of poultry, dogs and Bette Davis movies...just yet!...............hummmmm perhaps next year eh?   

Beetroot and Bennett

I have been pickling beetroot all afternoon.
The cottage smells like an old chip shop and I am sick to the back teeth of the colour purple.
So it was nice to lock up the hens at 6.30, spray the vinegar out of my skin with a liberal squirt of Clinique "Happy" and drive to Llandudno to meet Chris at Venue Cymru to see the National Theatre touring production of the Alan Bennett play The Habit of Art .
North Wales has just two main theatres. Theatre Clwyd in Mold is the more "arthouse" and Nationally recognizable theatre of the two and produces its own, often very well received productions whereas the more populist Venue Cymru in Llandudno caters more for the "variety" holiday and senior market and mainstream travelling productions...Personally I prefer Theatre Clwyd but occasionally something more interesting turns up at the llandudno venue...so tonight's night out was a bit of a treat.

  Bennett's play was interesting....it's a play ( about the latter day relationship between the irascible,putrid old W.H Auden and a self doubting Benjamin Britten) within a play, and it has plenty to say about the public and private faces of the artistic. However it is the playful way the play(s) explore the sexual proclivities of poet and composer that allows the audience to enjoy Bennett's waspish and very funny one liners. unfortunately for me, some of the in between wordy speeches lacks a bit of pace and interest.
Desmond Barrit (below), with his over stretched cardigan and booming voice makes for a somewhat likable if not grubby Auden and a wickedly funny character actor playing him. His performance as well as the  quietly waspish turn from  Selina Cadell as the assistant stage director were real standouts. 

Daily Drama

A small flock of collared Doves have taken up residence in the field's hawthorn hedge right next to the group of 50 chattering field sparrows.
This morning a sparrowhawk came a hunting in the field and from my advantage point next to the turkey hut (I had been repainting it before winter), I watched the drama unfolding before me.
Firstly, I heard the usual low, guttural "growl" of warning from the field cockerels.
Each one;- Stanley, Jesus, little Pirrie and the new grey youngster let out their alarm calls and immediately every hen raised their heads to the sky to search for the predator.
The sparrowhawk sped over the hedgerows low and very fast. He zig zagged through the hen houses, sending the runner ducklings screaming into their house and burst towards the doves and sparrows in the far hedge as the guinea fowl bellowed out their machine gun warning calls.
The sparrows dived to safety in a cloud of fluttering wings. They reminded me of a shoal of fish darting away from a shark, but it was the doves that the sparrowhawk was after ,and with the cockerels chattering away in the background he clattered into the hawthorn and grabbed a dove in a small explosion of feathers.
The hawk landed in the pig run, literally 15 feet from me and started to rip the dove open as I watched, open mouthed, holding my paint brush up in mid air......
There is a little drama here every day!

A Little Performance

Readers of this blog will realise that I am a sucker for a "little moment" and this morning in the bakery,I experienced  an ideal example of simple and candid humanity .
Earlier I went to Prestatyn to post a friend's Birthday gift and to pick up some laundry. It was lunchtime so counting my pennies I went to the town bakery to buy my lunchtime special treat- a sausage bap (a bap is a bread roll!) with lots of tomato sauce!
The unsmiling teenage shop assistant took my order, and with a bored but well practiced ease started to slice the bap and then the sausages on the work surface in the shop window.
At that moment an old lady that was passing stopped close to the window to watch the girl prepare the sandwich. She smiled broadly at the girl when the sausages were sliced quickly and with some skill then pursed her lips in a little "O" when the girl slapped them down firmly on the bread!
Obviously enjoying the performance, the old lady then almost chuckled to herself when the still unsmiling girl squirted out a generous big circle portion of sauce  and then pulled an exaggerated surprised kind of  face when the bun was finally wrapped up in a flourish. 
The shop assistant ignored this little pantomime, which was unfortunate and mealy mouthed of her, but before the lady moved on, I gave her a conspiratorial wink which she returned wryly....... 

Watching this little moment of humour made my day

And finally.......some good news

I suspect that the majority of blogs that will be written today will discuss in some way the magnificent rescue of the Chilean miners. I have found the whole "event" an interesting one in so much as I think it has been a sobering lesson of how one area of the world actually looks at another!.

The story of the miners has obviously been a slow burn as followed by the countries in the Northern Hemisphere. Vague perceptions of a dim and distant rescue attempt by a slightly uncoordinated and excitable Latin rescue force could not have been further from the truth, and over time the plight of the trapped men and the utter professionalism, and dedication of the rescue attempts (as well as the stunningly ingenious thunderbird technology), I think has taught the watching world a lesson in how they perceive a faraway Latin people and society.

It feels as though the world has given a somewhat belated but heartfelt "way to go!!!"

I am just so happy that, we have seen some good news for a bloody change!!!!

Red Update & The Village Rectory

Three posts in one day!
No I am not bored!
 Baby Quail, unlike most baby birds I have looked after seem calmer and more placid when handled and moved. Red and his compatriots seem to be doing just fine in their converted parrot cage in the shed and now resemble slightly long legged sparrows.They are cute as buttons.

 This afternoon I finally finished cleaning the last (number 18) bird house. and was busy cutting sunflowers for the house when neighbour Pippa walked past. She said that she had seen my blog entry An Autumn Trip Around Trelawnyd and was surprised that I had not photographed her house , the imposing old rectory which nestles behind the church.
This tickled me pink,( another local reader!!!) yet I  explained that the reason for me omitting her house was the fact that it is so tucked away and not easily seen from the public main road. Pippa gave me permission to take a few snaps for the blog and take them I did this afternoon. 

I love the rectory and would love to live there. Built in 1840 it is perhaps the grandest house in the village.and has the quirky distinction of having "painted windows" on certain aspects of its facade.
If you look closely both windows on the right of the front door are and have always been painted in, presumably to maintain the symmetry of the house!.

Matt Cardle (again)

sigh (again)

6.50

I am typing this in the dark so please forgive the typos.
It is just before dawn ( the time when Everything but the Girl says "you are most forlorn"), and I am wide awake after Chris' size 12s have "tap danced" their away over the cottage's ancient floorboards.( he was due a lie in this morning but woke up early and decided to go to work!)

He has now just taken the car leaving the dogs all snoring beside me and the guinea fowl shrieking at something unseen in the long grass.

From where I am now lying, I can just make out the black silhouette of the hills behind Rhuallt and the lights from Gentleman farmer Ralph's farm are the only ones I can see. beyond the hawthorn hedges  and rolling fields behind the village boundary.


The view across the valley from the Gop


Our view right across the valley probably put an extra 20 thou on the price of the cottage but I dont care. It is a view I never tire of, even in the semi darkness and gloom of pre dawn. Very slowly the sky lightens up the field borders and the badger or the  fox that is upsetting the guineas will disappear allowing the birds to quieten,  and giving the cockerels time to crow in their own hen houses.
There is a stillness in the air that is quite lovely, a stillness that is only broken by Albert, who is, as I type this, clambering onto the bed to greet each sleeping dog in turn with a gentle face rub.

If I could bottle this brief moment in time and sell it to city slickers, I would be a millionaire

Postscript: Anyhow the romance of the above scene soon dissapeared somewhat after I donned wellingtons and coat and braved the first frost of the autumn.......my fingers are now stiff and cold after cleaning 4 chicken coops out before breakfast!........