T * F * I *F

I couldn't have got through today without the kindness of neighbours 
At 6.45am I took all four dogs around to Ewan who lives in the last house on the lane to be "babysat "when I went into work again.
Bless him, he was stood at his door all bleary eyed and slightly dishevelled when I dropped them off and there was not one backward glance when Ewan opened his door, his heart ( and I suspect ,his treat tin) to them all!

Another Neighbour, Mandy, had agreed to let the birds out ( even though she is a little fearful of ANYTHING feathered)............and bless her cotton socks....for when I finally got home ( after ANOTHER absolutely awful shift) she met me on the lane all a bit tremulous and shell shocked

The turkey (Boris) had pecked her as she had opened the turkey house door and  the poor lass had legged it before he could inflict any serious damage...
I think he panicked her so much, that she forgot to open two other hen houses and the bottom turkey hut..... but as I had overfilled the houses with feed, there was no real damage done.

We have had freezing snow and rain this morning........I have hated today...........

The diet is going well by the way, how I will look post weightwatchers

A Town Called Panic

I have never been a fan of those screwball comedies from the 1930s.The incessent shouting, constant motion and rapidly delivered one liners always gives me a headache , so I was somewhat dissapointed by the "hilarious" French animated feature A Town called Panic this evening, which unfortunately contained all of these irritiating features.

The story of the adventures of three plastic toys ( a squeeky voiced Cowboy, a camp Indian and a pragmatic horse) was clever enough but the incessent movment and noise within the narrative gave my nerves a real shake up and I left after an hour , which was a shame.

It was the first film I had gone to see for an age...and it was a pity that it was not as good as the broadsheets said it was.

4/10

Mind you I loved the film's title.....reminded me of one of the best movie titles EVER

Who could ever forget the Stella Stevens/ Telly Savalas 1971 western A Town Called Bastard?

No THAT'S a real movie title

Is it me?

I heard something on a discussion radio programme that I couldn't quite believe this morning.
Apparently the classic novel Huckleberry Finn has been "banned"  from being taught or read in many US schools because of its "excessive" use of the "N" word and rather bizarrely because of the use of such historic slang such as the word Injun (Indian)

A more "sanitized" version of the novel has been released by Professor Alan Gribben in an effort to encourage Children to access the book within the education system , a move which has sparked much debate amongst academics and the general public alike.

We live in a world that fears upsetting people.
Why oh why, oh why are books as famous and as much loved as the Mark Twain's classic banned from children in school?
Are not children bright enough to realise that historic language is just that! HISTORIC?
And are not teachers talented enough to facilitate discussions and debate about the race issues in literature?
I was bright enough not to swayed by the darker elements in Catcher in the Rye or the more colourful language in Kes............and my English teacher (Miss Betts) at our parochial secondary school certainly explored the subjects of race and language in the beautiful To Kill A Mockingbird ......and as I recall there was plenty of N words in that one!

Let us STOP being frightened of upsetting the world!
The world has coped very well , with being upset from time to time
Enough already!

Tonight I am off to Theatre Clwyd to see the intriguing  

A Town Called Panic

Shit Happens

After this mornings shift I take my hat off to the full time Intensive Care staff.
Where I drag my fat old carcass in to the hospital for one twelve hour shift ( or two short shifts as I have been rostered this week) they have to face at least three long shifts a week and invariably during the month have to cope with one week of four!
As the grip of flu lays low an increasing number of patients, Intensive care has gone mental.
We have staffing, space and resources for 8 patients...yesterday we had 13 and today the number was 11.
I was rostered to work in theatre recovery with two patients of my own and had to really roll my sleeves up to help the non ITU trained staff cope with another seriously ill and ventilated patient who was admitted via A&E.
The unit has been under this kind of pressure for a couple of weeks now, and still the full time staff are rolling into work with rather tired good humour........after my short and horrible shift today....I marvel at their strength and dedication in dealing with everything that was thrown at them.

I was due to finish my shift at 1pm. The managers asked me to stay but I couldn't (in the end I stayed until 2pm) That's the problem with having animals. In the daytime they all need a feeding and they all need watering. And when you are the lone carer, the buck generally stops with you.

Chris had kindly let the birds out from their coops first thing, and had given the dogs a brief walk before leaving them in the cottage ( but NOT in the kitchen as I had requested )
When I got home ( all slightly fraught at feeling as though I had let work down for not doing any overtime) a certain undisciplined bulldog had opened her bowels AND bladder all over the living room!
Obviously thinking this was a spiffing kind of game, a couple of the terriers had followed suit and had compounded the "dirty" protest by  joining in with a couple of puddles and shits of their own and all this had been merrily ground into the shagpile, obviously during the canine hysteria which always precedes the arrival of the postman.

William (butter wouldn't melt)

I could have wept.
I walked the dogs around the village,(with rather thin lips)
and then put them into the car whilst I fed and watered the birds then shampooed the living room carpets ( and the bloody landing which had also been given the poo and wee treatment).....
And now you know, just why I generally work night shift! leave an animal unattended and shit (literally) happens.

I am working Friday morning and already have arranged for neighbour Mandy to let the birds out and other neighbours Ewan and Carol to babysit the dogs in their huge garden!........a basketful of eggs  for each is nothing to pay for the peace of mind ( and maintaining the fragrance of our carpets)

Bloody hell, I am so lucky and am so grateful for not working full time....if I did....the dogs  and birds would have to go

A "guilty" George hides on the passenger seat

ps Thank you Diane for your gift, it arrived today! The only thing that made me smile too!!!!

Normal tear and wear

I went in to work this morning only to find out that I was not due in until tomorrow.....I was convinced that I had been given the incorrect shift  but there is always the possibility that the mistake was mine.
I am getting to an age when I forget the simplest of things....and I am feeling my age.

• I have to retrace my steps regularly in an effort to find my car keys, or to locate my cheque card or the    dogs' leads and I am finding that I very occasionally call people the wrong name and almost not notice it.
• .My left knee is painful when I kneel down and I am sure I have the start of arthritis in my right big toe!
• When the tv or the radio is on I miss what Chris says to me ( he does mumble too!)
• And it "pisses me off" that I get up in the middle of the night to have a pee!
• My goatee is now almost a lovely shade of grey
• My hands look like my father's did when I was but a teenager
• and I know I will get sort of excited when I am given a nice warm fleece hat for a pressie!

I wont add to the list my increased flatulence issues ( I have discussed them at length in other more exciting blogs) but suffice to say, I need to address the relentless march of time on my 48 year old body, by sorting out a few health issues

1. I need to resume my old weightwatcher regime....This objective is an easy one. I lost over three and a half stone without too much trouble a couple of years ago and just need to get myself focused again...this time Chris will be joining me.....a lighter weight means a less painful knee and  less embarrassing offensive bowel sounds ! (oh the shame of breaking wind in front of a supermarket check out!)
2. I need to get my flu jab! (work is busying up with suspected swine flu cases)
3. I need to moisturise more and drink more water and less white wine
4. I need to buy some reading glasses from Debenhams (I tried some on when out Christmas Shopping and was so bloody excited when I could make out the small print on EVERYTHING!
5. and I need to wrap up warmer when I am out!

Yikes....I am only a stones throw away from leaving yellow stains on my underwear AFTER I go to the toilet....and God Forbid.....getting interested in purchasing a walking stick!
.....and so my health kick has started....
like I said It wont be hard....
I have an incentive
Underneath this grubby, slightly dishevelled exterior
I am rather vain!
I am
honest!

How Bloody High is Lower Loxley? ( and other Chicken stories)

Has  Graham Seed kicked the bucket 

The "special" 60th anniversary episode of the the radio soap The Archers had pain-in-the-arse Helen ( yes the queen of yogurt and everything smug) hurtling into a pre eclamptic crisis at the same time that posh Nigel Pargeter hurtled off the roof of his Stately Home - Lower Loxley.
I finally got to listen to the infamous episode this afternoon and couldn't quite get over the length of Nigel's scream  as he nose dived into the manicured lawn! How many stories does Lower Loxley has? 50?60?.........
It took an absolute AGE for the poor minor aristocrat to fade away!!!
(His fall was longer than Jennifer Jones' out of the scenic elevator in The Towering Inferno
I cannot wait to hear about his fate tonight! is he dead after his terrible extended fall? or will he be consigned to the mainstay of soap writers from all over the world and be left paralysed in a boneshaker nhs wheelchair?
We Will see!
If Nigel goes....the Archers will be all the poorer! As a character Nigel ( the actor Graham Seed) has always been a rather sweet foil for his odious politically correct wife Elizabeth ( who I dislike almost as much as I do the new mum Helen and the simpering Kathy Perks) and I will miss him and his little sayings(such as " Lizzie, do come and look at the meadow, it's heavenly.") a great deal.
The ARCHERS is and hopefully always will be a cracking and reassuringly English soap opera.
Of course the tale of life in the midland's farming village is as realistic as me wearing a smoking Jacket after dinner...but I dont really care.....I love it's very Daily Mail reader feel and middle class safety.......it's a constant in my life...........( and without it my regular, hour long conversations with fellow fan about very nuance of who did what to whom (he's also called Nigel by the way)........would also be greatly missed!

I have 10 new stalkers

Today is another bank holiday (ANOTHER?!!!!) and I am working a morning shift tomorrow which is a bloody nuisance as I start work at 7.30...an hour before the animals can be safely let out)
so today I cleaned out the coops, filled the feeders and water bowls so that everything has been done and dusted for Chris, who has agreed to go into his work slightly later.
My constant companions today have been the new rescue hens,The Belles of St Trinians. They have blossomed from skinny, Kate Moss type wrecks into a troupe of slightly unkempt but amiable young girls who obviously see me as a mommy meal ticket.
Everywhere I have gone, the ten chickens have followed, all clucking gently to themselves with a benign, friendly curiosity which I have found highly amusing...they are real sweeties!

Just Not Being Arsed

Tonight we had planned to drive to Llandudno to see the Colin Firth move The Kings Speech.
The weather has gotten just a little colder and as the dogs pilled up on the couch we lit the fire and decided to stay in yet again with a dvd like two old ladies.
Like most couples we just cannot agree on a film to watch for an evening in.
If Chris had his way, I could be subjected to anything from Carry on up the Khyber, Rosemary and bleeding Thyme or a re re re run of Indiana Jones and the temple of doom.
If I had my way, he would be subjected to a subtitled "arty" production, which would go down with him as fart would do in Church......so after a decade together, I have learnt to compromise
Early evening we sat through the "frothy" all-American caper film Salt ( with the non acting trout pout of Angeline Jolie) and later when Chris goes to bed I will settle down with the Korean movie mother


Constance sleeping through the movie with her head on my feet

 It's been a bit of a non day today.
We have not done anything interesting
Oh hang on...............
I have defrosted the freezer with the hair dryer,
cut a particularly nasty clingon from Meg''s bum
and spent a merry ten minutes trying to get an antibiotic tablet down a bad tempered hen's gullet!

and who says this blog can be boring

A Town Full Of Wheat

I felt a bit muzzy this morning but had no hangover!
The village was deserted and quiet so I took the dogs along London road for their first walk and it was nice to have a few moments of reflection.
Trelawnyd literally means Town of Wheat or Townful of wheat..It has an ancient history, dating back to the doomsday book, but it was the Trelawnyd born but Oxford Educated John Wynne who had a vision to develop a hamlet into something much bigger way back in the early 1700s!
He developed a school, a weekly market and minor industry in the village and had the Welsh village name changed (like you do) to the more "optimistic" Newmarket in the hope of developing the place into a market town proper. 
The village did develop but not to the extent that Wynne had envisioned. and in the 1950s the old name of Trelawnyd was reinstated.
This history has ingrained a certain identity to the place.
This morning in the mist and wet of an early New Year's Day, it was easy to recall the history of the village and to mentally reconstruct the likes of the village well (next to the pond), the Black Boy public house on High Street (apparently it had wonderful curved stone steps) and the shops and bakery along London Road.

I like living in the village. I like the fact that Mrs Hopkins gave me a pair of mittens after seeing me walk the dogs without any on. I like the fact that poultry Bob will stop and share an anecdote or 50 with me on Bron Haul and I like the fact that Auntie Glad will tie scones to the cottage door handle and that a silver foiled bara brith was left for us by Pat on the garden gate only two days ago
That's what village life is all about