Mrs Trellis from North Wales

Living in the village, I have learnt to glean pleasure from the smallest of situations.
It is not a hard thing to do.
I enjoy people watching. and have always noticed the minutiae of  frailties and idiosyncrasies within people since my Psychiatric nurse days way back in the 1980s.
One villager I ALWAYS enjoy watching is MrsTrellis (not her real name)
She is a diminutive, white haired and vital lady, with a ready smile and a gentle nature. She loves animals and makes a huge fuss of the dogs when she meets them, a thing she did yesterday , when she met a rather non plussed Constance for the first time.
The essential humour in Mrs Trellis' behaviour is that she just cannot control her huge black and white sheepdog when out for its walk. Often when I am walking up High Street, heading towards the Gop, I may just spy Mrs Trellis ambling down the hill without a seeming care in the world.
Then she will spy me and more importantly the four dogs with me and noticeably she will go into what I can only describe as a minor controlled panic.
 Before her dog actually starts that "stiffening" gait that all dogs do when they are unsure of others, Mrs Trellis will do a tiny dance of shortening her dog's lead, adjusting her clothing for a bit of a tussle and then will try to bolt for the nearest escape route, whether it be a field gate, an open driveway or a behind a handy bush!
Of course her anxiety is immediately transmitted to her dog, who realising that something is afoot will bound forward to challenge whatever threat that is ahead and then I am faced with the spectacle of small  rather deadpan old lady being effectively dragged around like Stephen Boyd in the Ben Hur Chariot race, whilst yelling "whoa! stop! STOP! WHOA!!!!! Noooo! steady!!!

It doesn't perhaps sound very funny, but every time it happens I could literally lie on the floor and chuckle my pants off.
I think what I actually find funny is the juxtaposition of huge hairy barking dog and tiny sweet old lady, with her heels "clacking" manically on the road...
or perhaps it's just me eh?
To me she is the spit of actress frances sternhagen (right)
When I met her yesterday, she was alone , so she could make a fuss of the dogs without any fear of confrontation.
Wistfully, she always comments on just how well behaved the dogs are.....and I always curb the urge to suggest that she buys a Yorkshire terrier!

Time to read

Yesterday was not  a good day basically because I would not bow to my innate need to be in control!
I could not ensure the dogs were walked
I would not ensure that the birds were fed
and I could not ensure my patient did not drop his pulse rate as much as he did.
I know I am a control freak
Nothing new to learn there.

However, lying in bed right now, after taking the dogs out for their early morning pee, I had a sort of epiphany of sorts. No it was not a sudden wish to let life wash over me and to relinquish control to others...no don't be friggin daft, no it was a more important realisation than than.
I realised that I have not read a book in an absolute AGE!
I used to be a voracious reader.

mz Cornwell

Fiction (in the guise of dyky Patricia Cornwell  and the benign Jonathan Kellerman) would be devoured in an evening, and my book shelves are filled with scores of real life non fiction accounts of wartime daring do, disaster stories and the odd police real crime caper

And so this morning as we lay sipping our tea I have decided to buy a pair of reading spectacles and a bedside light and have just informed Chris that instead of watching re runs of "chopper coppers" ( I know it sounds like a gay porn film ( Police reality show), I will be coming to bed a little earlier from now on with a book!

my guilty evening pleasure reality cop shows!

There! Back in control again!
Tonight will be Cornwells first ( and best novel)
Post Mortem!

Right need to get up now!
I will leave Chris and all of the terriers in bed. ( He is watching Antiques Road Trip on his Ipad) they are trying manfully to creep under the duvet
Time to don wellies and anorak yet again

Calon Lan

This video made me smile as much as the next one did....but smile with a rather sweet natured tear!
Crying easily means a bad day at work!!!

Tee Hee

sometimes in blog land you just have to make yourself smile before you go to bed
hey ho

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!!!!