The Big Sky,Spring Jobs and Kit Hopkins' slippers!

Local County Councils do come in for a bit of ear bashing from time to time, but I must admit that out own   (Flintshire Council) is pretty good when something needs sorting out. We have two street lights in our lane,and both are attached to telephone poles. Recently both have not been working, and over the past few weeks, (before they were unfortunately fixed this morning), I have absolutely LOVED walking the dogs down the lane in the darkness. Without that harsh, yellow neon glow, suddenly the vague night sky had been transformed from a blank backdrop into something out of a sci fi movie and every evening I have stopped quietly by the sheep field gates soaking in the cold black beautiful big sky of the night.


If I had  my way, I would switch off the village street lights after 11pm......

William and Meg

The day has been sunny and springlike and for the first time this year, the dogs have joined me on the field from 8am as I worked away cleaning the coops and tidying the carnage caused by the awful winter weather.Meg and William still cannot be left to free range with the poultry, their pure terrier instincts are too ingrained and strong to prevent a massacre, but George and Constance can be left to their own devices. George remains a terrible egg stealer and potters away checking each coop in turn for any spare eggs to eat whereas Constance remains rather non plussed with the whole chicken thing
There was once minor "stand off" when the Geese stood their ground between me and her ( below) but apart from that, peace reigned for the most part.

Bulldog versus  geese

As I tidied up the compost bins,cleared dead wood, fixed fencing and disinfected coops, Constance ambled around the field very slowly checking on each pen and enclosure in turn.
For a city dog, she remained very calm and composed as she did her rounds, peering intently inside each hen house with her little piggy eyes before plonking herself in the centre of the field, where she watched the morning pass her by in the warmth of the sun.

Constance in thoughtful mode

By a late lunchtime, I had all but finished, so took the opportunity to deliver eggs . On my rounds I was stopped by Mrs Hopkins ( you my recall she was the lady that knitted my winter mittens), she called me into her bungalow to try on a pair of hand kitted slippers she had made for me, and like Cinderella they fitted perfectly!

Now don't be fooled by the slightly "pixie" and schizophrenic look of these individualised pieces of footwear ( I especially love the little pom poms) they ARE totally the most comfortable house slippers I have EVER owned......I wonder what's next? knitted underpants?

True Grit

Anyone over say 35, will ( or should) remember the  much tv shown 1969 western True Grit. What usually sticks in the memory about the Henry Hathaway movie is the warm no holds barred performance by John Wayne as the fat one eyed old Marshall who is softened by, Kim Darby's, spunky Mattie Ross, a teenager looking to avenge her father's death. The sight of him attacking the Ned Pepper gang to the strains of Elmer Bernstein, reins gripped in his teeth and with all guns a blazing, lingers long in my movie soaked mind, so it was great interest that I went to see the Coen Brother's remake this afternoon.

True Grit ( the remake) is a much darker and a totally different movie than its predecessor.The Coens have all but eliminated the sentimental touches that Wayne and Darby generated. Instead, the affection that crusty old drunk Rooster Cogburn ( Jeff Bridges ) has for the precocious Mattie (Hailee Steinfeld ) is all but hidden away until the very final moments of action, and in its place  a powerful unsaid respect between man and girl can be seen in the odd phrase or telling glance ( watch the uplifting crossing of the river scene and you'll get my drift)
Bridges' Cogburn is a gruff, growling man who spits out his words like an old bear. Unlike in the 1969 movie, he is not Mattie's replacement father, however he does "blossom" under her forcefully, clever and slightly bullying ways.and the interplay between Rooster, Mattie and the self indulgent but emotionally warm Ranger, La Boeuf (Matt Damon) makes for a more interesting movie, a movie which is more a three headed love story than a  Western action piece.

Wisely the Coen brothers mirror the pace of the movie with the atmospheric use of the  hymn " Leaning on the Everlasting Arms  " ( Funnily enough it was the hymn that the psychotic preacher Robert Mitchum sang constantly in Night Of The Hunter) The music soundtrack is not uplifting, it is tough and a little harsh, a thing that is reflected again in the impressive cinematography of the austere countryside,and in the narrative of the film itself, which underlines the "life is cheap" mentality of Indian territory of the 1880s.
Surprisingly there is very little action in this atmospheric movie, but when the action does surface, it does so with power and some shocking violence
Jeff Bridges gives Rooster a hard edge that was perhaps missing from Wayne's  shouting performance, and Hailee Steinfield is absolutely amazing as the tough, wisecracking and emotionally hardened Mattie, who only shows her softness in one short telling scene with the rather good Damon.
I enjoyed this movie and give it a cracking 8.5 out of 10
But you know what?. for a couple of minutes, I did miss fat old John Wayne riding out and yelling "Fill your hands, you son of a bitch! "

Him Indoors

Last week, I was asked by the ubiquitous Bea Fickle why the illusive Chris remains a somewhat shadowy character here on the Going Gently blog 
The answer is a simple one, he prefers to remain in the wings.
Chris has a healthy disregard for the potential damage that personal blogs can have on peoples' lives and I respect this fact as I am only too aware that what you write can sometimes come back to snap at a person's arse at a later date!

So, dear readers you may occasionally only get a glimpse of Chris amid the flotsam of Going Gently....A pure, clear cut, University based PhD academic, I think Chris finds my emotional view of animal husbandry, sentimental view of life and particular lack of personal grooming somewhat baffling, but generally will put up with needs of 100 hungry mouths and the emotional jacuzzi of my personality with some alacrity  Having said this he will sometimes be pushed to breaking point - ( sixteen shit flinging runner ducklings on the kitchen table almost bounced him into therapy)....but for the most part he enjoys the country life a little vicariously as he writes his academic papers and completes his research.

The runner ducklings that almost pushed Chris to the brink

Last night we swapped Valentine gifts. Its not something we have done for years, but independently he treated me to some theatre tickets ( to see one of my favourite musicals- Guys And Dolls) and I treated him to some toiletries.

It was a nice gesture.....Him Indoors and I have many years together to go.....

Praise for Jesus

Minutes before I left for work last night there was a knock at the door.
It was a  lady who had come to the field a week or two ago to buy hens at point of lay. I had sent her up another hen breeder to purchase her new hens , but before she went on her way discussed that she may want to have a cockerel at some stage to keep her hens happy and together.
Last night she came around to see if I had a "spare" cockerel that she may have and without hesitation I offered her Jesus.
Jesus was abandoned on the field by some anonymous soul two Christmases ago.
He was a frightened adolescent cockerel , with little confidence and a nasty dose of scaly leg mite, but even though I already had too many cockerels I sort of had a soft spot for the sad looking unwanted male, who had been thrown out like the Christmas wrapping paper on Boxing day!...
so I kept him

His legs were treated on a daily basis and after a difficult period of bullying by the resident Cockerel , Stanley,, Jesus has spent the past year in his own little run away from fighting beaks and rampant sex.....and so I was chuffed that I had eventually found him his own home, with his own garden and his own goo goo eyed harem.

Right, coffee has been drunk! and I can now face the day without any sleep...off to bath the dogs

Trauma

What is the height of post Night shift fatigue?

When you get home and push your knife slowly into a lovely onion bagel with fried egg

Only to see the said breakfast slide majestically off your plate and onto the back of a Hairy Scottish terrier then plop onto the floor!

Having said this... I picked it up and scoffed it before Chris saw me

Off to bed

Hoarding

Recently, in debate, I was asked what I thought about the subject of "animal hoarding" ( the person doing the asking ,  I was later to find out was being somewhat snide). I had never heard of the term before and asked for some clarification which I did not receive, so today I had a quick look at the definition of the phrase

Wikipedia states:-

Animal hoarding involves keeping higher than usual numbers of animals as pets without having the ability to properly house or care for them, while at the same time denying this inability. Compulsive hoarding can be characterized as a symptom of mental disorder rather than deliberate cruelty towards animals. Hoarders are deeply attached to their pets and find it extremely difficult to let the pets go. They typically cannot comprehend that they are harming their pets by failing to provide them with proper care. Hoarders tend to believe that they provide the right amount of care for their pets.[1] The American Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals provides a "Hoarding Prevention Team", which works with hoarders to help them attain a manageable and healthy number of pets.[2]


Years ago, I was a psychiatric nurse in Chester and York, and never came across this phenomenon before, (although I have had experience of patients hoarding bodily waste, household rubbish and the like---yes charming!)
I found the above article an interesting read and was reassured to realise that I am not quite at this stage just yet .
The human mind never ceases to amaze me in it's abilities to play tricks on itself, and although the whole subject is fascinating, I don't regret leaving psychiatric nursing for one minute.
It's just too complex

Why does everyone want to bitch slap?

As usual  I took the dogs out this morning first thing and as we walked down the lane ( the lane is not wide enough for two cars to pass each other) a small car crept up behind me. I gestured to the driver to wait a minute as I walked on to take the dogs up into a farm field gateway.HOWEVER
He revived the engine loudly, obviously impatient for us to move out of the way, and Constance who is only new to road "etiquette" pulled at her lead and backtracked into the road
The driver edged forward and I called out "just hang on a minute will you"
But he didn't stop
I had a glimpse of an office type businessman who mouthed " get out of the fucking way!" as he flicked the "V's" at me, and the car sped past missing Constance by a hairs breath
I wish I had a bag of shit on me, as I would have flung it at the car without a second thought.....but it was all too late
and as the Ford Ka, sped off , all I could think was why are so many people in this modern age so bloody angry!!!!?
Anger seems a modern epidemic doesn't it?

You see it everywhere:-, in the village,, on the roads,  on the phone ( anyone ring a call centre recently?) and on the net! ...........everyone seems so bloody angry
I hate bad manners- Being angry is being bad mannered  when anger is not controlled
The two seem to go together!
 Living in the country I think that good manners very much come to the fore
You stop if a horse rider approaches your car
You stop if you see cows in the road
You say "good morning to someone who passes you in the street"
and you give way if a 4 x 4 "out guns you in a country lane!
But still I see people angry, aggressive and difficult!
I would like to think that I am assertive but not aggressive... but I know I can give as good as I get and it does trouble me slightly that although I am in many ways mellowing with age, I just cannot put up with the unjust and the wrong.....
hummm perhaps it is me that is getting angrier?....that's worrying
who knows

I am Working all over this weekend on nights so here's hoping everyone has a nice and peaceful weekend?



Simon Pegg on kissing men and the first broody hen of Spring

This brief and somewhat too broad editorial was highlighted on the BBC news website a day or so ago

Straight men should kiss each other more to understand homosexuality, Simon Pegg says.
The married actor said that homophobia comes from a fear of the unknown.
He told Glamour: “I’ve never been homophobic and I like flirting with gay guys; they’re easier to flirt with than women. I flirt with my gay friends quite happily, even in front of my wife. They like it if you are a bit cheeky and touchy-feely; it’s fun and more slapstick.
“Once I had to kiss three guys; real full-on snogs. I think every man should snog another man. A kiss is so much more than physical touching; we laughed about it at the time, but there was no passion.
“It would help them understand. Homophobia’s all about fear of the unknown, like it’s something you could catch. But it’s not a choice, it’s biological.”


I found this piece interesting not because of straight Pegg's comments on kissing gay men...no, it got me to thinking about how the behaviour of "men kissing men" has actually changed over the last decade or so.
Now I grew up in the 1970s  where the North Wales coast was (and is) a million miles away from the Mediterranean lands where demonstrative papas kissed the foreheads of their sons at the dinner table. I actually remember kissing my father just the once when I was an adolescent, and that was a peck on the cheek after he had bought me and my sister an austin 1300! ( GDM 744K)
It was just not done.

Today, things ARE different, and it is refreashing to see men, that are secure in themselves, greeting other men with an unconcious peck or two. Of course all this has been always present in  artistic circles (I have a lurvie darling mate that will pucker up at the drop of a hat), but I do see it creeping in within the blokey hetero world!

Mind you, I do find this man kissing thing all a bit difficult, I think my 1970 Welsh roots still govern this intimate show of affection in a rather negative kind of way...however....I do hug my male friends , but it is always in that casual lumberjack-ish way that you often see in American sit coms ( lots of back slapping and laughing!)

Recently I saw my  brother-in-law kiss my brother on the forehead. It was one of those brief almost unnoticed acts of affection that said so much more than a wave or a hand shake.....and I remember cursing the difficulties I sometimes have kissing the people closest to me......

lesson to self......pucker up and get on with it!......mind you I may not start my journey into kissing men in greeting at the next Trelawnyd Community Council meeting.......There are farmers with guns on the committee!

Spring is almost here...you can almost smell it. The first of this year's broody hens have started to sit, and this sweet natured Light Sussex called Cora has walled herself up into the spare rabbit hutch on the field.
Broody hens can be a pain. Often they dont eat and drink for the three weeks of sitting, so need to be removed from their eggs twice a day and " encouraged" to feed and poo (Broody hens save up their poo for one HUGE dump a day).
Whenever possible it is important to break broodies by sin binning them ( a day or so in a crate where they cannot sit on eggs can help) but Cora was so gently insistent that she have her own eggs , I have relented , and left her well alone.
Chicks in three weeks perhaps?......more mouths to feed....my animal hoarding continues!